by Lena Gregory
“Oh fine.” She threw up her arms, exasperated with his drama. “I fell asleep on the chair and when I woke up I thought I saw . . .” She pressed a hand to her neck where what had felt like ice-cold fingers had wrapped— “Hey. Where are you going?”
Bee stalked toward his car, keys in hand.
“You can’t leave, Bee. Please.” She hated the pleading note in her voice. “Please, Bee. Just long enough for me to shower and get dressed.” Ah jeez, now she was just plain whining.
He shook his head and kept walking. He rounded the front of his car and kept going.
A small glimmer of hope flared. Maybe he’d go in with her after all.
He disappeared into her small shed. She really had to remember to get a lock for that thing, but she only kept some gardening equipment and a push mower that had seen better days in there.
When he emerged a moment later, rake in one hand, metal bucket in the other, hysteria borne of exhaustion took hold.
Bee was a sight to behold on any occasion, but this was more than she could take. A head over six feet tall even without the platform shoes he usually wore, dressed in leather with a multicolored print scarf draped just so around his thick neck, he held his makeshift sword and shield at the ready.
She clutched her stomach, bent at the waist, tears pouring down her face, and laughed until she could barely breathe.
He glared at her and lifted a brow. “Something funny?”
She clamped her teeth together, desperately trying to control herself, and shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.” He strode past her. When he reached the back door, he started to juggle the rake and bucket to turn the knob, then stopped and shot her a dirty look. “A little help here?”
Tamping down the last of her hysteria, she sighed and met him at the door. She peeked in the window. Even though the kitchen appeared empty, she turned the knob, pushed the door, and stepped back.
Bee poked the door open with the rake.
Together, they stood in the open doorway, poised to run, and studied the empty kitchen.
“Sooo?” Bee kept his gaze firmly locked on the closed doorway to the living room. “Where’d you see . . . whatever it was that spooked you?”
“In the living room.”
“Great.” He started tentatively across the kitchen.
Cass clung to his side. This was ridiculous. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dismiss fears she knew were irrational. Though she did believe there was something past death, and could even accept she might somehow be tapping into that energy, she didn’t believe a ghost could just drop in for a visit. Of course, the alternative—that she was losing her mind completely—wasn’t that much more appealing.
Bee stopped a couple of feet back from the door, took a deep breath, waited for her to turn the knob, then shoved the door open with the rake handle.
Empty. No head floating across the room. No ghostly apparition whispering in her ear. Nothing.
Heat crept into her cheeks.
Bee flopped onto the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. He set the bucket on the cushion beside him and leaned the rake against the couch within easy reach. “You okay?”
She shrugged and swiped tears from her cheeks. “I have no idea.”
“What happened?”
She sighed and sat on the chair across from him, then pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I guess I fell asleep in the chair sometime during the night. When I opened my eyes this morning, I thought I saw the same woman from my dreams.”
Bee dropped his feet onto the floor, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on his knees. He contemplated her for a few minutes without saying anything.
She shifted, uncomfortable under his close scrutiny. “What?”
“Look, Cass.” He paused.
This time, she waited him out. He obviously had something on his mind. Eventually, he’d get to sharing it. In the meantime, she scanned the room, hoping not to find anything otherworldly.
“You know how I feel about any kind of psychic nonsense, and I’ll probably regret asking, but you never talk much about how you do what you do.” He pursed his lips and stared at her. “Are you . . . you know . . . really psychic? Can you really hear . . .” He cast a suspicious glance around the empty room and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Ghosts?”
Cass had never given it much thought. Stuff came to her, and she said it. Could the information she’d been relaying have come from spirits? Possibly, she supposed, but even if it did, it wasn’t as simple as that. “It’s not like that. I don’t just hear voices or anything like that. And I definitely never saw a ghost as clear as day.”
Except for the man’s image she—along with a roomful of other people—thought she saw during the first séance in the Madison Estate. Of course, she still clung tightly to the possibility of mass hysteria.
Bee stared a moment longer then waved his hand, dismissing whatever he’d been about to say.
Cass didn’t press. The last thing she needed was any further evaluation of her mental state. “I need a shower.”
“Go ahead. I’ll call the groomer and see if they can take Beast. Will you be all right?”
“Thanks, Bee.” Relief flooded her, at both the offer of help and the fact that he let everything else drop. She wasn’t sure which she was more grateful for. She resisted the urge to beg him to sit outside the bathroom door. “I’ll be fine.” A chill touched the base of her neck. Probably.
4
Cass slid into the passenger seat of Stephanie’s car. “Thanks for following me to drop the car off and for giving me a ride, Steph.”
“No problem. Will you need a ride back to Emmett’s later?”
“No, thank you. Emmett will detail the car then drop it off at the shop when he comes to work on the upstairs. Then I’ll go pick Beast up from the groomer.”
“You’re going to put him in your clean car?”
Cass shrugged. “How dirty could he get going from the groomer to the car?”
Stephanie pinned her with a stare and raised a skeptical brow. “This is Beast we’re talking about.”
She couldn’t really argue that. One time last winter when she took him to the groomer, he walked out the door and dove straight into a filthy pile of plowed snow in the parking lot between the front door and her car.
Stephanie remained unusually quiet as she drove, her gaze firmly riveted on the road ahead of her.
“Are you okay, Steph? You seem quiet lately, like something’s bothering you.”
Stephanie offered a weak smile, but tears shimmered in her eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”
“You know I’m always here if you need help or if you need someone to talk to, right?” She forced a grin, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction from Stephanie. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
The tiniest bit of laughter slipped out. “You’re a great listener, Cass, and a great friend, and I appreciate that you want to help, but there’s really nothing to talk about, just a lot on my mind.” She reached over and squeezed Cass’s hand. “I’m fine. Really. But if I ever do want to talk to someone, you’re at the top of my list. Promise.”
Cass let the matter drop. Stephanie didn’t usually get moody—that was Bee’s department—but everyone was entitled to be down once in a while. She’d just let her be and keep an eye on her. For now, at least.
Stephanie flipped on the radio and soft rock blared from the speakers. She seemed lost in the music as she drove, and Cass’s mind began to wander.
She had no interest in thinking about ghosts or anything else that was stressful, so each time her mind started down that path, she shoved the thoughts aside.
Emmett had been moonlighting for her as a handyman, working on expanding the shop by finishing off a large room upstairs
so she could increase attendance at her group readings.
The decision to expand hadn’t been easy. Money was tight as it was, but she could no longer fit everyone who regularly attended her group readings comfortably in the shop. It was either expand, or put a limit on the number of guests she could invite. Her head still swam a little every time she second-guessed herself, but Emmett had given her a good price. In addition to owning the only garage on Bay Island and doing odd jobs to generate extra income to support his son, Joey, Emmett was also a good friend.
Maybe she’d invite him and Sara Ryan, his new . . . hmmm . . . she didn’t know what exactly Sara was. Girlfriend didn’t seem quite right. Anyway, maybe she’d invite them for dinner tomorrow with Bee and Stephanie.
“You guys are still coming for dinner tomorrow, right?”
“Yes. Will Luke be there?”
Cass shrugged. Luke, her sort-of boyfriend—at least, he might be if they ever got a chance to talk to each other, never mind see each other—was getting to be a bit of a sore subject. With him living on the mainland and her living on Bay Island, they didn’t get to spend much time together. Or any time at all lately. “I don’t know. I left him a message, but he hasn’t called back yet.”
Artie Becker emerged from the new art gallery, his face red, his mouth set in a firm line. The man looked like he was about ready to boil over.
“Hey.” She grabbed Stephanie’s arm and snapped the radio off. “That’s him.”
“That’s who?” Stephanie lifted her foot from the accelerator, and the car started to slow.
“No, no. Keep going.” Cass slid low in the seat. She tried to avert her features so Artie wouldn’t recognize her, but she still kept an eye on him in her peripheral vision.
He stalked toward the parking lot, hands fisted at his sides. She wouldn’t be surprised if smoke started pouring out of his ears.
“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” Stephanie asked.
“That’s Artie Becker. The guy with the missing daughter.”
“Where?” Stephanie scanned the semicrowded boardwalk. The sun had finally come out, and it was nearing seventy degrees. People ventured outdoors on one of the first nice Saturdays of the season.
“The guy with the black T-shirt.” She gestured toward him.
Artie rounded a corner and headed toward the beach.
“Wait.” Cass swiveled around in her seat but lost sight of him in a group of rowdy teenagers. “Darn. I lost him.”
“If you wanted him, why did you tell me not to slow down?”
“I didn’t want him, but I would like to know what he was doing in the art gallery.”
“Do you want me to try to find him?”
Did she? She really didn’t want to risk running into him just to satisfy her curiosity. Besides, she could always stop in the art gallery later and snoop around. “Nah. I have to get the shop open. I should have been there already.”
Stephanie swung into the small parking lot in front of Mystical Musings. “Will you be okay by yourself?”
She shrugged, recalling the incident at the house that morning. “I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll tell you what. Let me pick Bee up, and we’ll bring lunch.”
“I only dropped him off a little while ago, so he will not be happy if you wake him.” She couldn’t help but grin. “Whatever you do, don’t forget caffeine.”
“Do I ever forget caffeine?” Stephanie laughed as Cass got out of the car and strolled up the boardwalk to the shop, then waited for her to unlock the door before pulling out.
She let the door fall shut behind her, turned the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, then crossed to the back of the store and unlocked the door that led to the beach. After propping it open, she walked out onto the wraparound porch and rested her hands on the railing.
Boats already dotted the bay, people walked along the beach, kids ran and played. A seagull dove and snatched a piece of food someone had left lying on a blanket. The Bay Pointe Lighthouse stood sentinel over it all. She inhaled deeply, the briny scent bringing memories of childhood, of a more peaceful time.
The tinkle of wind chimes announced her first customer of the day, and she reluctantly left serenity behind and went to work.
When she walked into the shop and saw Cayden and his wife, Sophie, two customers who’d been with her since she’d opened, her spirits soared. Cayden’s ruddy cheeks turned even redder than usual as he lifted an infant seat and grinned.
“Oh, my gosh! You had the baby. Congratulations!” The light blue blanket spilling over the sides made her smile.
“A boy. Just like you said it would be.” He shook his head, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
Cass pulled down the blanket, careful not to wake the baby. “He’s adorable, and look at all that dark hair. Just like his mama. What’s his name?”
“Cayden Junior.” Sophie looked down at little Cayden so lovingly it almost brought tears to Cass’s eyes.
She was definitely on an emotional roller coaster. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, she was going to lose it.
Cayden gripped her hand. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to get out here sooner to offer more support, but I’m glad to hear everything worked out with that trouble you were having. You know we would have come back if you needed us.” He squeezed her hand and moved aside for Sophie to give her a hug.
When she released her, Cass nodded and stepped back, trying to get a grip on herself.
Cayden and Sophie lived in the city, where Cayden worked as an ironworker. Out of desperation, when his rheumatoid arthritis almost cost him the job he loved, he’d come to Cass. He and Sophie were now regular customers, crediting the assortment of healing crystals Cass had given him for his recovery.
“So . . . did you guys just stop in to visit?”
“Actually, we’re looking for a gift.” Cayden gestured toward Sophie.
Her expression sobered. “My mother hasn’t been feeling well lately.” She shook her head. “She’s suffered from depression ever since losing my father ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sniffed. “She’s been bad lately. We thought the baby might help, but she’s not even interested in him. Most days she just sits in my father’s chair and stares out the window.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “She refuses to take the medication the doctor ordered, and I don’t know what else to do. Do you have anything that might help?”
The plea for understanding, as well as the desperation in her eyes, tugged at Cass. Cayden and Sophie always came in for crystals, candles, and bath salts, but neither of them had ever had a reading, and Cass wasn’t sure about their feelings on the subject. “Do you think she’ll come in for a reading?”
Sophie blew out a relieved breath. “What is that, exactly?”
“Well, there are several ways I can do readings, but mostly we just sit and talk.”
“Mom doesn’t go out of her way to talk to people, but she will sit and talk to anyone who comes to visit, especially about Dad.” She bit her lip and waited.
Cass loved Cayden and Sophie, but she really didn’t feel like going into the city. Manhattan held too many bad memories for her, and she tended to avoid it like the plague. “Um . . . where does your mom live?”
“She lives in Manhattan, but we rented a house over in Southampton for next weekend, and we talked her into coming out with us and spending some time at the beach with Cayden Junior.”
Taking the ferry to the North Shore and then driving over to Southampton wouldn’t take that long. Besides, she absolutely loved the quaint little town on the South Shore of Long Island. But Saturday and Sunday were her busiest days in the shop. There was no way she could afford to close over the weekend. “When will you be there?”
“We’ll arrive Thursday afternoon, and we’re leaving on Monday night.”
She could close the shop on a Monday that week instead of her usual Wednesday, since this was for work, not pleasure. Or she could close early on Friday and still have a few hours to walk through town and visit some of her favorite shops. This time of year, she didn’t get much business before the weekend, anyway. Plus, Southampton wouldn’t be as mobbed as it sometimes got on the weekends. “Okay. I’ll tell you what. I can either come Friday afternoon or Monday morning, if that works.”
“Oh, that would be perfect. Thank you so much!”
“Great. I’ll call you and let you know which day as soon as I figure out my schedule.” Maybe she’d see if Luke had time to meet up for a little while. If not, she could always ask Bee or Stephanie to come with her, then she’d have someone to hang out with afterward.
“If it’s okay, I’ll just pay you now. I’m willing to pay extra since you’re coming to us.” Cayden pulled out his wallet. “How much will it be?”
Cass quoted him her regular price. She needed some time away anyway, and it would feel good to spend the day relaxing with friends. The reading gave her the perfect excuse to take the time she so rarely indulged in for herself.
He handed her a stack of bills and held her hand in his. “Thank you, Cass. I don’t know if it will work, but I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you coming.”
“You’re very welcome. I hope I can help.” She was pretty confident she could help some, as long as Sophie’s mother believed in any sort of afterlife.
After saying good-bye to Cayden and Sophie, and having one last peek at their little guy, she put the money from Cayden—her fee plus an extra hundred dollars—into the register and set about her morning routine. The shop seemed empty without Beast, and she was surprised to find herself a little lonely.
She pulled her cell phone out of her bag, intent on calling Luke to see if he was free on Friday or Monday, and found a missed call from him. Disappointment surged. They’d missed each other again. She hit the message button, and Luke’s smooth southern drawl eased out. “Hey, beautiful. Sorry I missed you, and I’m sorry I can’t make it for dinner tomorrow. Things have been crazy lately. Give me a call when you have time. Miss you.”