by Jane Tara
She couldn’t do more than that. It might be enough to appease Tad. And Crystal had promised to speak to him. For now, it would be business as usual at the Majestic. She simply would now consider the possibility of losing it.
She went downstairs and turned the coffee machine on. The box she’d brought home from the theater sat on the counter. She might save that for another day. Who knew what was in there?
She ground some coffee beans and looked back at the box. Something twigged.
What had Pip said? Box?
She picked it up, carried it into the lounge room and placed it on the floor. Then she opened it, moving back slightly as a cloud of dust and a small spider made their way out the top. She pulled out the first piece of paper. An old electricity bill, overdue.
“I ain’t paying that,” she said.
More papers, and then the treasures began. Playbills, old tickets, invitations to the opening night of Hamlet. She resisted the urge to slow down and take a moment with each piece—she’d do that later. She was looking for one thing and one thing only. Unfortunately she had no idea what that one thing was, but Rhi sensed the dryad did, and she was following her advice.
Photos! She found them. Interesting shots. Some classes, some of the Majestic as it was being renovated. Three funny rehearsal shots. Good Goddess, was that a young Stan Knight? Rhi let out a laugh—until she saw the next photo.
Another of Stan, thirty years younger and beside him—Tad. Just as he looked today.
How the hell could that be?
Her hand shaking, Rhi turned the photo. On the back was scrawled, Hamlet rehearsals. Stan Knight and Kip Daniels.
The blood rushed to Rhi’s head. She could almost hear it roar. Her eyes lost focus for a moment.
Kip Daniels? Tad’s father?
Rhi’s hand flew to heart, afraid for a moment that it was going to explode out of her chest.
“Holy shit. A goddamn ghost auditioned for me.”
*
Rhi arrived at the theater wearing dark sunglasses and a hat. She shouldn’t have bothered. A number of locals greeted her as she passed, and all were warm and friendly apart from Pastor Rawson’s wife. It had been a full twenty-four hours since she’d been outed as a witch, and very few people seemed to care. She was as relieved as she was grateful. In many ways, her mother had done her a favor. Hiding who she was wasn’t ideal; perhaps she could be a witch who lived in town, rather than the town witch, for there was a difference.
Of course, if people knew I was going to speak to the theater ghost they might be more worried, she thought.
She marched straight into the auditorium and made her way to center stage. And from there, she projected.
“Kip Daniels, show yourself.”
Nothing happened for about thirty seconds and then she sensed someone watching her from the wings. She turned, and there he was, devastatingly handsome, even with a rather sheepish look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rhi thrust a hand up.
“You don’t get to speak.” She waved the photo of Kip and Stan at him. “Did you think I’d never work it out?”
“It has taken you an inordinately long time. You’re not a very good witch.”
“I’m trying to ignore that part of my life.”
“You’re doing a good job.”
“I’m not taking all the cred for this. Why didn’t I pick up on the fact that you’re dressed like a reject from the Shakespearean wardrobe department every time I see you?”
“You almost did once. I dropped my guard that day you went to remove the star from the dressing room door.”
Rhi thought about that incident. She’d put it down to a lack of sleep. “And the rest of the time?”
“I dazzled you.”
“Dazzled me?”
“It’s a little spirit trick.”
“I’m not susceptible to shit like that.”
“As you said, you’re ignoring all your witchy gifts. It’s made you quite vulnerable to dazzling.”
“You’ve been taking advantage of me.”
Kip threw his arms up. “I never laid a finger on you.”
“I’ve been exploited by a ghost,” Rhi spat.
“You went along with it, because you think I’m handsome.”
“I think your son is handsome. You’re dead.”
“You still think I’m handsome.”
“Okay, admittedly, you’re not bad looking for a corpse.” Rhi threw herself into a seat.
“You’re not going to cry again are you?”
“I have made such a fool of myself because of you.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” he said.
“Your son asked me out. But because you’d already turned me down, I yelled at him.”
“Okay, that is a little embarrassing.” Kip grew serious. “Do you like him?”
“He’s a very nice person.”
Kip screwed his face up. “Oh god, sounds boring. Please tell me my son isn’t just a very nice person. When women say, ‘Oh, he’s a very nice person,’ they mean he has the appeal of porridge.”
“He’s smart, he’s sexy, he’s talented…and he thinks I’m nuts.”
“You are a little quirky.” Kip gave her a lazy grin. “So ’fess up…is it Tad you like, or me?”
“Holy shit, you’re arrogant. I’m talking about your son and you’re flirting with me.”
“I was alone for nearly thirty years. Can I help it if I get carried away?” Kip grinned.
“Whatever happened to ‘I’m with someone but we’re in limbo right now’?”
His grin vanished and he suddenly looked very sad. “Alas, still true, still in limbo, despite some interesting recent events.”
Rhi had no idea what he meant by that but could see he was deeply mourning the loss of a woman and felt a surge of sympathy for him. All her anger towards him evaporated. “Were you with this woman when you died?”
“Yes.”
“What was she like?”
Kip closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to capture her. “Alive.”
The weight of the moment and his lost love were almost too much for Rhi to bear. How could she stay angry with him?
Kip’s eyes snapped open and he moved on. “So, do you think Tad likes you?”
“He kissed me.”
“Was that before or after you acted a little weird?”
“Weird has been a regular occurrence.”
“Sounds like he’s interested.”
Rhi shook her head. “Not any more.”
“You can somehow make amends. Explain the situation to him.”
“Yeah, that’ll work. Sorry, Tad, I had you confused with your father who haunts the theater.”
“Yes, best to not say that.”
“So what now?”
She paused, tempted to tell him that she might lose the theatre because of him. But she couldn’t. As frustrating as Kip’s actions were, she felt sorry for him. The poor dead guy had been punished enough. “I can only hope he forgives me. Or gets amnesia.”
“I mean with us.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Kip…perhaps you stay out of my way and I roll you out for Halloween?”
Kip sighed. “All good things come to an end.”
Rhi softened a bit. “I can’t have you scaring people. The theater will fail. No one will come to my shows if they think it’s haunted.”
Kip rolled his eyes but didn’t speak.
“I need time to think this through. I’ve only just worked out you’re dead.”
He seemed to understand that she wanted to change the subject. “So what’s it like out there now?”
“The weather?”
“No, the world.” He searched the wall above, as if looking for memories there. “Is Dynasty still popular?”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“Did Nintendo take off?”
“Ah…yes.”
“Who’s the president?”
“Barack
Obama.”
“What sort of name is that?’
“He’s African-American.”
Kip smiled. “Things certainly have changed.”
Rhi’s phone buzzed as a text came through. She removed it from her back pocket and read, Want to have lunch? Annie xo
She quickly typed back, Sure. Same bat time, same bat channel. xo
Kip watched her warily. “What are you doing?”
“Texting.”
“Excuse me if I don’t automatically know what the hell that means.”
Rhi looked up at him. She thrust the phone out. “It’s a smart phone.”
“What’s so smart about it?”
“It does lots of things.” She flicked through the phone settings. “I can call people. Or I can message them…type little letters that I send through to their phone. I check emails…I’ll have to explain that whole thing another day. I have my calendar, notes I make throughout the day, reminders; I take photos, shoot film, stay in touch with friends via this…er, they’re called apps…so this app, and this one…and this one here.”
“Everyone has one of these?”
“Most people.”
“So anyone can contact you at any time? Wherever you are?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s so smart about that?”
Rhi considered his words. “You’re right. We’ve become so attached to our phones, it’s stupid, not smart.” Rhi shoved her phone back in her pocket. “So here’s the deal. You stay out of my way, and I won’t bring in the holy water.”
“I didn’t take you for a Catholic.”
“Fine, I won’t bring in the local space clearer with her sage and bells.”
“I’d prefer a priest.” Kip pulled at one of his cuffs. “Don’t suppose you could spare some time for a chat now and then?”
Rhi suddenly felt sorry for him. He’d been stuck for decades and was lonely. “Sure, I can manage that.” She turned and started walking out of the auditorium.
“Any idea when?” Kip called after her. “I’ll need to book it in to my smart phone calendar.”
Chapter 29
Annie watched as the black Aston Martin pulled up to the curb. She grabbed her small watering can and hustled over to the window to pretend to water the bamboo.
“Lord, be still my beating heart,” she whispered as a tall, dark-haired god slithered out of the car, slammed the door and made his way to Captain’s Realty.
The man sauntered into the store and scanned the room, finally noticing Annie behind the potted plant. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes burning into her, and then he broke out in a lazy grin.
“Do they need watering every day?”
“What?”
“Your shoes.”
Annie glanced down at her feet and realized that, in her spellbound lust, she’d been busy pouring water all over her shoes and the floor.
“Oh shit. Damn…brand new as well.”
She raced over to her desk and grabbed some tissues and began dabbing her feet. “Can I help you with something?” Like taking off your clothes, or chewing on your bottom lip? Annie stared intently at her shoes and prayed the god wouldn’t notice the bright shade of red that was creeping up her neck.
“Maybe. My sister moved here recently and I don’t know her address. Her name is Rhiannon…Wall.”
Annie’s head jerked up. “You’re Rhi’s brother?”
“One of them.”
Annie stood and pulled herself together. She could see a vague similarity: the shape of the chin; high cheekbones. But his long, haughty nose, full lips and smooth tan skin were pure male. He was wearing a light gray sweater that clung to every ripple and dark blue jeans that sat around his hips and ass in a way that should be illegal. He was tall, perhaps six foot two, with spotless black sneakers on his feet and shining black wavy hair on his head, like ebony bookending the most magnificent man she had ever seen.
“I’m Annie Anderson, her estate agent…and friend,” she said as she thrust out her hand.
“Taran. Nice to meet you.” He clasped Annie’s hand and shook it. She tried not to faint, or throw herself into his arms.
Taran gave Annie the once over. “So can I have her address?”
“You can, but she won’t be there. She’s meeting me for lunch in ten minutes, so you might as well come along with me.”
Annie grabbed her bag, locked the door and led Taran up the street to Crystal’s. He walked like a man used to being watched. He was aloof and smooth, his handsome head held high. He scanned the street without giving his thoughts of it away, although one glance at him was enough to presume that he’d rather shoot himself in the foot than leave New York for somewhere like Hamlet.
“Are you here for long?” Annie asked. Perhaps she could have some fun. After all, everyone agreed it was time the whole Annie, Sam and Jake love triangle was dismantled. What better way to do it than with someone who was freak-of-nature gorgeous?
“Depends on what comes up,” Taran said.
Annie was just about to make a flirtatious remark when she stopped short. She realized she didn’t want to flirt with him. She wanted to stare at him, as one would a movie star or a piece of art, but she actually wasn’t attracted to him. She couldn’t imagine kissing him, or snuggling up and watching reruns of True Blood with him. Taran Dee might be the best-looking man she’d ever seen, but she wasn’t interested. And with that comprehension came the overwhelming awareness that the reason for this was that she already had someone she wanted all that with. She did not want to lose the Knight men—one of them in particular.
“Are you okay?” asked Taran.
“Sorry…I just realized my feet are wet.” Annie slipped her shoes off, much to Taran’s amusement, and they kept walking.
The door to Crystal’s jangled as they entered. There were people at a couple of tables but the main lunch rush was over, so Annie led Taran to a table and sat down. She wasn’t thrilled with her new epiphany, but at least she’d stopped acting like her mother’s terrier during the spring.
“They have excellent food here.”
Taran picked up the menu with a look that said he seriously doubted it.
“I love the portobello and mozzarella baguette, although the vegie lasagna is sublime,” Annie chattered. “Do you see anything that you want?”
Annie glanced up from the menu and saw that Taran had indeed seen something desirable. She followed his gaze across the room to Tye, who was placing an order of cheesecake and coffee in front of another couple.
Tye turned and grinned at Annie, before noticing Taran. The smile froze and she turned and hurried out to the kitchen
Taran chuckled. “She seems friendly.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out under the table. “You were right, Annie Anderson. The menu here looks interesting.”
*
Tye leaned against the kitchen wall and forced herself to take three long, deep breaths. Thankfully her mother was doing a reading. She didn’t need any witnesses to this. She needed to think. It was him! Or was it? She wasn’t sure. He looked exactly like him. The gaze was there. The familiarity. The mesmerizing beauty. But he was different. This man had dark hair and the man she had dreamed of all her life was blond.
Tye grabbed a glass of water and pulled herself together. She calmed herself and then sauntered back out into the cafe and over to the table.
“You okay, honey?” asked Annie.
“Something was burning.” Yeah, his eyes, straight through my lie.
Annie watched Taran and Tye with mounting amusement. “Tye, this is Taran, Rhi’s brother.”
Tye seemed taken aback. Rhi’s brother? She’d dreamed about Rhi’s brother? She pasted a smile on her face. “Tye Hemmingway. Rhi has told me so much about you.”
He seemed pleased. “Really?”
“No, I lied. She barely mentions her family.”
“Good, then you have no preconceived images of me.”
L
ittle do you know. “Are you ready to order?”
“I hear your lasagna is great.”
“The regular orders can’t be wrong.”
“Then I’ll have that.”
Tye nodded and turned to Annie. “The usual?”
“Yes. Has Rhi been by today?”
“She’s on her way.” Tye ran her eyes across Taran. “She didn’t mention a visit from her brother.”
“It’s a surprise.”
There was an excited squeal as Rhi came hurtling into the cafe. Taran bounded out of his chair and scooped his sister up into his arms then twirled her around in a big hug. Annie and Tye exchanged an amused look that said it all: they both immediately decided that, despite his arrogance, they liked him.
“What are you doing here?” screeched Rhi.
“I missed you.”
“Right, so you just decided on a drive.”
“There’s a gallery in Boston that wants to show my work so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Look at you, you look great!”
“It’s living in Hamlet,” Rhi admitted. “And you’ve met my friends. Sit down. You all must get to know each other.”
“Good idea,” Taran said as he stared at Tye.
Rhi pulled up a chair and called out to Tye, who was once again backing out the door: “Come and join us!”
Tye suddenly felt quite trapped. “I’ll get your lunches first.”
She made her way into the small kitchen and began preparing the meals. This was not how it was meant to happen. She’d always expected their first moment to be more of an Aha! rather than this confused Er, is it?
But was it?
She placed the lasagna in the microwave and stood staring at it as it heated.
It was him, no doubt about it. So what if his coloring was all wrong? Perhaps the blond hair in her dreams was symbolic of something. The goodness of his heart? Yeah right, Taran was like a stalking panther. He exuded wild sex and heartbreak, not love and light.
She removed the lasagna and placed it on a plate, garnishing it with salad. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t meant to be struggling with her fate. Was she? Perhaps one’s fate always included an element of struggle and then surrender.