by M J Waverly
“See you tomorrow.” I waved.
He waved and returned to his phone conversation.
Twenty minutes later, I met Laney and Ava at the Beans and Greens food truck. She hung up her closed sign. We ate inside the food truck as Laney prepared our plates. Laney’s special today was fish tacos. I hadn’t eaten fish tacos since I left California, and my sister’s definitely tasted like the ones I’d eaten after a day of surfing, meeting with friends at Mack’s Fish Shack for sustenance afterwards.
“We need to talk about Mom and Dad?” Ava said between bites.
“I don’t know,” I dipped my taco into the special tartar sauce Laney made.
“How far along is Taffy?” Laney sipped her herbal tea.
“She’s four months according to Dad,’ Ava said. “Mom needs to see reason and let them stay on the two acres behind the house.”
“Have you been talking to Dad?” I asked with food in my mouth. Some of the fish in my mouth dropped to the floor. I grabbed a paper towel and scooped the fish up.
Ava’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Yes. He sounds desperate. Everyone has cut him off. He needs our support.”
“He dumped Mom and took up with a stripper.” My voice grew louder with each word. “What about Mom?”
“I know, but she is strong.” Ava swept her bangs from her forehead. “I feel sorry for Dad and Taffy.”
“You don’t have to see what it does to mom on a daily basis” I lost my appetite and tossed my napkin onto my paper plate and tossed my remaining fish tacos into the trash can. “I say Dad can make his own way in the world. He has no right to the property. If he wants to live in Cloverville, he can get an apartment or a trailer like Uncle Watson.”
Uncle Watson was Nana’s brother, who lived in a retirement mobile home community near Lake Elliot. My cousin, Clara moved home to take care of her grandfather after he had fallen and broken his hip last year.
“I might as well confess.” Ava avoided eye contact and stared at the floor.
“What did you do?” I folded my arms across my chest.
Laney placed her cup of tea onto a counter. “Is this confession time?”
“I sent Dad a thousand dollars so he could come home,” Ava inhaled, and then released it with a huge huff like she was the Big Bad Wolf. “I really couldn’t afford to do it, but I can’t abandon him.”
Laney and I exchanged disbelieving glances. A sinking sensation hit the pit of my stomach.
“What?” Laney leaned against the counter.
I stared open-mouthed and then anger rushed through me.“What? Dad is using you.”He’s a master manipulator.” I should know I dated one.
“He’s family,” Ava whined.
I glanced up at the cauldron-shaped clock. I need to go. I have class.” I pointed at Laney. “Good luck, try and talk some sense into her.
“Me? You’re older than me,” she scowled. “You’re supposed to have more wisdom.”
“Dad is on his way. We need to tell Mom. All of us.” I pointed at Ava. She didn’t dare say anything to me.”
“I’ll talk to you in the morning. I have to be at the Thunder Mountain Park full moon hike with Jason, tomorrow night.”
“I thought you weren’t dating the boss.” Laney’s lips quirked upward.
“I’m not. It’s ghost business.”
“How romantic,” my little sister scowled.
“Got to go.” I hugged her, ignored Ava, and then jumped into my truck and drove to my writing class.
Class went well. Dr. Hawthorne invited everyone to have coffee at Crooked Spoons afterward. About five of us went. I ordered decaf and went to sit at the table with the others.
“I want to say this is a talented group of writers, and I want to see if anyone is interested in forming a writing group?” Dr. Hawthorne spoke in his elegant and scholarly British accent. No one knew he was a vampire. Earlier today, I learned there were fairies at Thunder Mountain Park.
“We’d meet here on Wednesday nights at eight o’clock,” Dr. Hawthorne gestured around the coffee shop.
“I’m in.” Bryce Manley, a pale twenty-something guy, rocked back on his chair.
Leanne Jones, an African-American writer nodded. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Zara Heather, a woman in her fifties with bright red hair and glittery cat-framed eyeglasses waved enthusiastically. “Count me in.”
“Excellent idea.” Morton Henderson, a retired journalist writing his memoirs, gestured with one finger.”
“Sidney?” Dr. Hawthorne’s gaze landed on me.
“Sure.” This would be interesting. At least, I’d be around other writers. I missed that about Los Angeles, writer friends. Hell, I missed talking writing with Camden. Let me retract that last thought. No, I didn’t.
“We’ll start next week, and bring in five pages of your current work, and we’ll go over it. “
Three loud women entering Crooked Spoons drowned out Dr. Hawthorne. The blood drained from my head to my feet. Mandy was among the loudmouths.
I focused on the other writers in my newly formed group, but Mandy’s voice carried through the restaurant. “You should see the girl he hired. She’s like into ghosts, but she’s so ugly. Mousy brown hair. No style.” Mandy wrapped her finger around a curl.
I dug my nails into my palms.
One of the other girls laughed, reminiscent of an angry donkey baying. “Jason is so lucky you want him back.”
“He’s mine,” Mandy’s voice boomed throughout the coffee shop.
Dr. Hawthorne asked me something, and I stared blank-faced at him. ”Sorry, thinking about my next screenplay.”
“You’ve already written one.” Zara Heathers adjusted her eyeglasses.
“Most of it. I found it therapeutic to sit down and write.”
Morton nodded. “Indeed.”
“Sidney is entering the Scream Dream screen contest sponsored by Trollhouse Pictures.” Dr. Hawthorne gave an encouraging smile. I noticed he kept his upper lips over his fang teeth.
“You did.” Leanne Jones shuddered. “That’s great. Horror movies aren’t my thing, but I think it’s fabulous you want to send something out.
“That’s exactly why we’re forming this group so that we can achieve our writing goals,” Dr. Hawthorne’s spoke in his eloquent British accent.
“I have to go. I have work tomorrow.” Leanne scooted back, and her chair scraped on the coffee shop’s wooden floor.
“What do you do?” Zara Heathers adjusted her cat-frame glasses. The rhinestones glittered even in the dim light.
“I’m a secretary at Chapman Reality,” Leanne answered.
“I bet that’s a great resource for characters,” I said.
“It is.” Leanne’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I keep a notebook.”
“Good for you,” I said. In Los Angeles, I wrote descriptions of people I met and saw on the street. Lots of material there.”
Morton and Bryce stayed behind. I think they might have been eyeballing Mandy and company. I glanced back over my shoulder. The women wore short mini dresses with midriff cutouts more appropriate for nightclubbing in Buckhead than having coffee on the square in Cloverville.
Who was I to judge? Wear what you want. I glanced out the coffee shop window over to the town square park. Several squirrels scampered over Rudolph’s statue, which glimmered with a silver light. I wondered if Rudolph had communicated with the fairies from Thunder Mountain Park. It would be good to update him on what I’d learned today.
“Dr. Hawthorne, I see someone I know.” I cut my eyes over at the window.
He slightly tilted his head. “Very well. I’ll see you in class on Thursday.”
I made my escape without Mandy recognizing me. At Rudolph’s statue, the squirrels scattered in several different directions when he stepped out, shimmering brightly.
At night, I could see more of his features. A hooked nose, worried lines grooved in his forehead and a tight mouth, but gentle eyes th
at shone with kindness. “Sidney.”
“You have friends.” I pointed at the squirrels who had gathered on the edge of the grass and chittered among themselves.
He scowled and then make a shooing motion. “Tree rats, the entire bunch. Enough of them, what did you discover today?”
He surprised me as this rude treatment of the furballs.
“A ghost is haunting Thunder Mountain Park. I don’t know if he’s associated with the Blood Collector.”
Squinting, Rudolph looked past my shoulder. “Good Evening, Hawthorne.”
“Good evening, Rudolph. Excuse me for eavesdropping, but I take it we have another ghost in our midst, “Dr. Hawthorne sat down and reclined on the bench.
“Yes,” I replied. “Thunder Mountain Park.”
“Indeed.” Dr. Hawthorne replied.
“It’s the ghost of the hiker, who died of a tragic fall ten years ago. His name was George Abernathy.”
“Be careful, Sidney. If he’s the one, who broke through the void, he will be angry. If I recall, foul play was suspected in his demise,” Dr. Hawthorne said.
“George was a gentle ghost. Something or someone must have enchanted him. Rudolph said.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“The Blood Collector may be behind George’s sudden change,” Dr. Hawthorne leaned closer.
“Hey, you’re that girl who is after my Jason.” Mandy walked over, followed by her entourage.
Not this. Heat crept up my neck and into my face. “Yes, we met today in the waiting room.”
The girl in the pink dress from Crooked Spoons sashayed over to Dr. Hawthorne. “Hello, handsome. Why don’t you come with us? We’ll show you a good time.” She circled her hips and snapped her fingers over her head. “Yeah, baby.”
I blinked. Mandy reminded me of Taffy, who acted the same way when she’d had too many margaritas.
“I’m afraid I must decline your generous offer. I must escort Miss Latimer to her vehicle.” He held out his elbow, and I accepted.
“Thank you, Dr. Hawthorne.” Embarrassed and relieved, I wanted to jump in my truck and go home. Wait until I told Jason about Mandy’s deplorable behavior and that of her friends.
Dr. Hawthorne escorted me to my truck and waited until I climbed inside. “Drive carefully.”
I backed out of the parking space, and checked my rearview mirror, expecting to see Dr. Hawthorne, but he wasn’t there. Instead, several squirrels watched me.
Chapter Four
When I woke up the next morning, my brain screamed for caffeine. On instinct, I stumbled to the kitchen for coffee. Late nights at coffee shops, strange squirrel sightings, and running into Mandy had made it difficult to fall asleep until the wee hours. I’d need lots of concealer today to hide the dark circles under my eyes.
I reached for the coffee pot. I would have to talk to Jason about Mandy. I didn’t want to accuse Mandy of following me, but. . . I’d check with Todd and Cyrus to see if stalking was one of Mandy’s modus operandi.
Laney shuffled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup. She wore a Panda-Monster band shirt featuring a panda playing guitar. “I’m heading over to Lake Elliot, there’s a huge fishing tournament, and it should be a good day for sales.”
“What are you serving today?” I lifted my cup to my lips and took a sip. “Catfish tacos?”
“No, barbecue slider sandwiches and homemade coleslaw and potato salad.” Laney pulled out a chair from beneath the breakfast table and plopped down.
“Really?” I hoped she had leftovers so I could have them for supper.
“Yeah. Uncle Joe called last night. He’s stopping by this morning.” Laney yawned and then stretched.
Dressed in a plaid skirt and white oxford blouse, Mom, entered the kitchen, bringing an air of tension. “Good Morning, girls.” She pursed her lips as she poured more coffee. “We’re out of creamer, I hope someone will replace it.”
“Good Morning, Mom,” I managed to keep my voice light.
“You were out late, last night.” Mom’s tone was layered with disapproval. The one she used when I stayed out late as a teenager.
“After class, a few of us met at the coffee shop, we’re forming a writer’s group.” I drank my coffee and stared straight ahead.
Mom sniffed. “I knew you didn’t have to take off to California to be a writer. You could’ve stayed right here in Cloverville.”
Laney turned to me and crossed her eyes.
“I wouldn’t have the experience in Cloverville that I would’ve had in California. Anyway, there were some hot guys in California . . .”
Mom’s lips curved upwards just a little bit. “Hot guys?”
“There’s a definite lack of those in Cloverville. You have to drive to Atlanta if you want to find one,” Laney said. “We need to go clubbing one night.” She made some dance moves. “We can crash at my friend, Alice’s house afterward.”
“Sounds like fun.” I could use a change of scenery. I waited for Mom to make some kind of judgmental remark.
“Good for you, girls. You need to get out and have some fun while you’re young. You think marriage will last a lifetime, and then your husband decides he needs his freedom. To have fun. That he never loved you.” A sob escaped from Mom. She turned and grabbed a paper towel to cover her mouth.
“Mom.” I went to hug her. Laney followed.
Mom held out her hand like a traffic cop. “No, sorry. It’s so hard knowing your father is returning with her. I thought could handle all this, especially with him out of town.” Her shoulders slumped. “Now, that he’s returning. I’ll be the subject of whispered gossip, sympathetic looks, and I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.”
“When did you find out?” I asked, horrified Laney and I weren’t around when Mom heard the news of Dad’s return.
“Uncle Joe told me.” Mom grabbed another paper towel and blew her nose. “He didn’t want me to be surprised when your father showed up on my doorstep.”
Laney touched Mom on the shoulder. “Mom, have you thought about counseling? You know to help you get through Dad’s situation.”
Mom nodded. “I am seeing someone. It’s helping.”
“Proud of you,” I said. My mother usually rolled along with life, doing the status quo and now she’d taken difficult steps to heal and deal with Dad.
Anger flowed through me.
Knowing Ava gave Dad money to return home made my sister’s betrayal more painful. I was definitely talking to my big sister with a message for Dad. Stay away from Mom.
Mom wiped her eyes. “I need to fix my face before Uncle Joe arrives.” She walked back upstairs to her room.
“I want to kick Ava’s butt.” Laney paced in front of the counter. “When she gave Dad money, it emboldened him. He thinks he can collect money from all of us. “
“I know. Let’s talk later, so Mom can’t overhear us.” I lowered my voice. “I need to get dressed and do something with my hair.” I ran my hand through the tangled mess.
Laney pulled out a chair and sat down. “You’re right. I need to calm down. Speaking of hot guys, how’s it with Jason?”
My stomach tightened. “We’re friends and co-workers. Not crossing that boundary. His ex-fiancé, Mandy wants to get back together with him. Renew what they once had before she cheated on him.
“Damn. Are they getting back together?” Laney reached for a pen on the table and began doodling on a napkin.
“I don’t think so, but he’s definitely tense, not my usual go-with-the-flow Jason.” Tonight, I hoped he could focus on George Abernathy’s ghost on the full moon hike. Maybe even me.
Ava’s loud diesel engine truck pulled into the driveway.
“Maybe he’s over her, but she’s not over him. I’d lay low for the next few days. Let them work out their stuff. ” Laney jumped up, walked over to the pantry and grabbed a roll of paper towels.
“What thievery is this?” My mouth twitched.
“I’m running low.
I’ll replace these when I restock tomorrow. What’s your Jason plan?”
I raised my hands up in mock surrender. “I’m staying out of it. Just do my thing.”
Ava strolled into the kitchen. “You have coffee.” She grabbed a mug and then reached for the coffee pot and poured.
Laney and I exchanged knowing glances behind her back, and then Laney crossed her eyes. I smiled and mouthed ‘stop it.’ Immature of us, but cathartic.
“Late night?” A disapproving Ava regarded my tangled hair, my stained tank top, and well-worn yoga pants.
“She’s in a writing group that meets at a coffee shop at night. I think it’ so Los Angeles,” Laney held her cup up in a toast.
“That’s great.” Ava reached for a package of whole wheat bread, opened it, and removed a slice. “What do you do in a writing group?” She took a slice and popped it into the toaster.
Before I could answer, someone knocked at the kitchen back door. Strolling over, Laney peeked out the window. “It’s Uncle Joe.” She opened the door.
“He’s early,” Ava’s voice trembled. “He called me last night. He’s upset with Dad about something.”
I wouldn’t be showering or brushing out my tangled hair anytime soon. Laney opened the door just as Mom walked downstairs.
“Good Morning,” Uncle Joe waved at us but focused on Mom.
“Good Morning,” Mom said cheerily and smoothed her hair. “Everyone sit down,” Mom pulled out a chair and lowered herself into it.
Everyone grabbed a chair. I leaned back against the counter since there weren’t enough seats around the breakfast table. An uncomfortable silence hung in the kitchen broken only by the toaster.
Uncle Joe removed his hat and ran his finger and traced the outline of an apple on the placemat. Whatever he had to say would be tough. My heart pounded as I leaned back against the kitchen counter. Did he have news about Nana? Had they found her body?
Don’t think like that.
Uncle Joe looked at each of us individually and held our gaze. “I think it’s time to sell Nana’s house.”
“You can’t,” I shouted.
Protests erupted from Laney and Ava, too.