I pull up in front of a modern, square structure that's all glass and wooden. It reminds me of a contemporary log cabin. It sits at the curve of the road, so it only has one neighbor, and their mini-mansion is a good 'nother house-length away.
That may not sound like much, but in the rest of South Shore Beach, the homes are so close. Some are just a person-width apart. Not in the East End though. Here, there's more space, and they have the best view. The boardwalk doesn't extend into this part of town. Homeowners do not want tourists hanging out in their backyards.
I stop in front of Thomas's house. A brown hatchback is parked in the driveway. Behind it is a silver Benz.
"Oh no," Thomas mutters.
I put my car into park. "What is it?"
"My mother."
I swear I hear dun-dun-dun-dun shark music.
"I'm assuming that's not a good thing?" I open my car door and wait for his answer.
"Brenda Katherine Sterling doesn't approve of Serena. She says she's backwater swamp, not fit to be a Sterling."
Ouch!
"But you're still marrying her." Or were.
"Yeah, I love her. She's great. You'll see. You have to save Serena. Mother is a shark. She'll eat her alive if I'm not there to intervene." He floats out of the car.
I knew I had the right music in my head. I jump out and slam the door. I have to run to catch up with him. "Wait. Who am I? Why am I here?"
He stops before floating through his front glass-and-wood door and looks back at me. He opens his mouth, and there's a crash inside. Without a sound, he turns and passes through the door, leaving me to fend for myself.
Crap.
I raise my hand to knock but decide to try the knob. It twists, so I let myself in and hurry toward the loud voices.
"Look what you've done," shouts a woman.
"I'm sorry." Another one sobs her words.
Laying bets they are Mother and Serena, in that order, I step down two steps to a sunken living room with a dark, hardwood floor and a thick, beige center rug. The furniture is beige too. A stiff-looking, rectangular couch and love seat face a wood and rock fireplace. Several dark wood tables, some accessories, and a couple of potted plants complete the room.
A lamp is on its side, on the rug, the glass base has a huge chunk missing. Its several large shards lie beside it. The bulb still shines though. If this was my family, we'd superglue it back together. I have a feeling the Sterlings will buy a complete new set. Maybe even hire an interior designer to remodel the whole room.
Thomas hovers by Serena, who is slightly bent at the waist, crying into her hand. She has on black jeans and a pink sweater with a plunging neckline.
Mrs. Sterling wears an ivory-colored linen skirt suit with nude pumps. Her brown, shoulder-length hair is coiffed in waves around her head and looks like it doesn't move in the wind. Her back is to me, and neither of them notice me.
Thomas tries to rub Serena's back, but his hand goes through her. She shudders and hugs herself.
I clear my throat, and both women look to me.
Mrs. Sterling flinches and gasps. "Who are you?" Her eyes dart around as if she's looking for a weapon.
Before she thinks to grab a shard and thrust it into my heart, I hold out my hand. "Hi, I'm Gianna Mancini."
When your family owns a business with your last name, you hope not everyone has heard of it in times like this. Ma would be appalled at my thinking. She expects every interaction her children have should result in new deli business.
"Do you always walk into strangers' homes, Ms. Mancini?"
"I-I." I stare at Thomas and widen my eyes, hoping he understands my non-verbal plea for help.
"Why are you here?" Mrs. Sterling asks.
If only I could blurt out the truth.
"Tell them you're my new assistant," Thomas says.
"I worked for Thomas Sterling. I was his assistant." I add a half-smile to my face, not too happy and not too threatening. I hope.
Serena starts crying again.
Mrs. Sterling rolls her eyes. "Stop sniveling, child." To me she says, "I wasn't aware my son hired you. When did this happen?"
I glance at Thomas.
"Last week," he says, keeping his gaze on Serena. "Serena's been on me to hire help for some time. I just didn't think I needed it."
"A week ago," I say to Mother. "He finally caved, he said." Hopefully she won't ask me for details because I don't even know what Thomas does for work. I assume it's something in the family business, but he could be CEO or sort the mail for all I know.
Mrs. Sterling's gaze starts at the roots of my curls and slowly travels down until she's at my worn sneakers. She scoffs and turns to Serena. "You have no business being in my son's home."
Serena looks up, and her eyes are puffy and bloodshot. "This was going to be our home."
"Was. Not any longer."
Wow, harsh much?
Thomas's face scrunches up into a deep frown. "Mother, stop being so mean. She's welcome to be here as long as she wants."
Too bad Mother can't hear him.
"You have no right to be here. Give me back your key." Mrs. Sterling holds out her hand.
Serena pulls back and seems to turn into herself more.
"Mother!" Thomas shouts. When she doesn't respond, he looks to me. "Do something."
"Thomas would want Serena to stay here until she's ready to leave," I say and hold my breath, waiting for the verbal smackdown I'm about to get.
"Who the heck… You've worked for him for a week, and you think you know his wishes?"
I don't know this woman, and I kinda get that she's uptight and in as much grief as Serena. Instead of crying though, she's lashing out and trying to hold on to her son. Serena, the woman she doesn't like, is in his space and tarnishing Mother's memories. At least that's my five-second armchair psychoanalysis.
But she's also a damn bully, and I can't stand anyone using their size, power, or authority to threaten another. So I do what I've been getting really great at. I lie.
"Because he told me." Well, that part isn't a lie. "We were going over some business, and he said that everything he owned was Serena's, even if they weren't married yet."
Instead of screaming at me, Mother turns to Serena. "You only have a few days, and then I want you gone. Regardless of what my son wanted, you have no legal say. Make sure you clean this up, and when I return, I better not find anything missing."
She turns on her heel and storms past me with a huff.
The front door slams shut, and I flinch. I release a deep breath. For a moment, I thought she'd slug me, but I imagine someone of Brenda Katherine Sterling's upbringing doesn't resort to violence. At least not with her own hands.
Thomas looks into my eyes. "Thank you."
I nod and step closer to the grieving fiancée. "I'm so sorry for what you're going through, Serena. Thomas loved you so much."
She sniffles and looks at me.
Wow, despite the bloodshot eyes and red nose, she's stunning. High cheekbones, almond-shaped, light-brown eyes, a pixie nose, and full bow lips on a heart-shaped face. Her rich, dark hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and is shiny and slick looking.
"Thank you," she says.
"Are you sure you want to stay here?"
"She's stronger than she looks," Thomas says.
"I have no place else to go. Besides, it helps to be close to him. This never should've happened."
I take her arm and lead her to the uncomfortable looking sofa. "Sit down. Do you need anything? A glass of water?"
"The kitchen is around the corner." She starts crying again.
I look to Thomas, and with my head, I motion for him to follow me. I round the corner and step into a kitchen-slash-dining area that would make Ma drool. Stainless steel appliances nestled among wooden cabinets and granite tops. I'm getting a bit excited myself.
I open the fridge, find a bottle of water, and ask, "Do you want me to tell her something more specific tha
n how much you love her?"
He looks off into the distance. "That I'll miss her tremendously." His voice cracks.
That goes without saying, but I nod and head back to Serena. I uncap the bottle, hand it to her, and sit beside her.
"I don't know what I'm going to do. The police acted as if they blame me for the bomb."
Thomas flies to her feet and kneels before her. "That's crazy. You'd never hurt me."
"The police can be clueless at times," I say. Especially Detective Kevin Burton.
"Tell her to call my lawyer, just in case. Mr. Hamilton."
I stare at Thomas in disbelief, and panic climbs into my chest. You have to be kidding me. Thomas's attorney is Julian's boss? Of course he is. Does this mean Julian lied to me again?
I relay the message and know exactly who I'm visiting when I'm done here. Suddenly in a rush, I tell her that Thomas loved her, and he'll miss her.
She gives a small smile. "I'll love him for the rest of my life."
Thomas grins, but it looks pained. Then he disappears.
That's it? He's moving on now? Well, that was easy.
I reach into my purse and pull out a brochure for the deli. Ma and Pop have recently added catering to their already ridiculously long days. I find a pen at the bottom of my bag, amongst some Oreo crumbs, and scribble my cell number onto the corner.
"Here. If you need someone to talk to, or if I can help you in any way, just give me a call." I feel bad leaving her here all alone, but it's getting late, and I'm on a mission. I still want her to feel she has someone though. "Will you be okay?"
She nods. "I'm going to crawl into his bed and cry myself to sleep."
My throat tightens. Fun night.
CHAPTER FIVE
I park in front of Julian's apartment building and call his cell.
"Gianna, what's wrong?" His tone is groggy and full of concern.
Don't listen to his sexiness, Gi. You're here for a reason, and it doesn't involve getting naked.
"I need to talk. Can you come outside? I'm parked out front."
His hesitation is slight. "I'll be right there."
I hang up and toss my cell onto my passenger seat. This can't be true. He can't be lying to me again. If he is… My stomach has tied itself in sailor knots. I wring my fingers until they almost pop off. And I bounce my heel up and down so fast I knee the steering wheel twice.
A minute later, I see him emerge from the back of his building in jeans, a gray hoodie, and sneakers. My pulse rises. Even in clothes he probably grabbed off the floor he looks amazing. He jogs across the street and starts heading to my passenger side.
No, no, no. I can't do that. If he gets in the car, just like if I go up to his apartment, we may end up horizontal. Not that I don't have self-control, but he's highly irresistible.
I roll down my window and stick my head out. "Hey."
He stops at my right headlight and walks to the driver door.
Thank goodness.
He leans on the door, on the open window, and stares into my eyes. "What's going on? Why didn't you come up and knock?"
"It's late, and I can't stay long. I just have to know something."
But I notice the smirk lifting the corner of his gorgeously stupid mouth. He knows exactly how much I can't usually resist him.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Are you involved with the explosion in any way?"
He scratches the side of his head. "You already asked me that."
"Yes, and you answered, but I know you can't really confide in me, so maybe you…"
"Lied?" he asks.
"Yeah." Guilt builds up.
He takes a step back, still with his arms on my window, and bows his head in the space his body makes with my door. Then I hear a long sigh. When he looks up, a small frown accentuates his expression. "I'm not lying. I had nothing to do with anyone associated with the explosion that I am aware of."
I nod over and over and stare out the windshield.
"You still don't believe me?" His tone sounds incredulous, and I'd like to point out that if he hadn't lied in the past maybe I wouldn't have trust issues now, but he's not the only one who lied. The only difference is that his lie almost cost my sister her freedom, and my lie about seeing dead people didn't even disturb his sleep. Well, not until we broke up.
"I swear on my grandmother that I have no knowledge of any ties to the explosion," he says.
Whoa, it's as if he can read my mind. His grandmother was incredibly important to him and part of the reason we broke up, and I left Connecticut to return home. When his grandmother's ghost became our houseguest, only I could see her, but he wasn't aware I could see the dearly departed yet. Up until this point, I hadn't seen another deadie in the months he and I lived together, so it hadn't come up yet. I had to relay her message of how much she loved him. It wasn't as easy as with Serena just now. Grandma had specific words she wanted me to use.
So I figured the best way to do it was to write him a letter from her and make it look like she wrote it before she died. I stuck it in one of his books, but when he found it, he knew it wasn't from her. I didn't realize he'd read that very book the week before. I lied, we fought, a lot, and he ultimately wanted space. I overreacted a bit, or a lot, and moved in with my cousin. After a week of not hearing from him, I decided to move back home. Less than a week later, he was here in town with his new job.
When I look back on it all, I definitely believe fate had a hand in all of this. If I hadn't walked out and he hadn't followed me, I wouldn't have told him about my ability.
"I didn't say that. I do believe you," I say.
"Now," he adds.
It's like he plucked the word straight from my mind.
"Why are you asking again? Does it involve you somehow?" Now he sounds concerned.
I look at him. "You can say that. I just spent the last few hours with the guy who died in the explosion."
Julian looks to the back and passenger seats. "Is he here now?"
I shake my nod. "Nope. He's moving on. He just wanted me to tell his fiancée how much he loves her."
"And this involves me how?"
"He mentioned that his lawyer is Mr. Hamilton, your boss."
Apprehension hits Julian's eyes. "I see. I've been on a stakeout most of the day and haven't seen my boss. I had no idea."
"A regular stakeout?"
He raises his brows. "As opposed to what?"
I shrug. "I don't know. A fixer's stakeout."
"I am a regular private investigator as well as a fixer. People, luckily, don't need fixing every day. I still need to make a living."
I never thought of it that way. I just assumed he was moving dead bodies and covering for Hamilton's clients daily. Tension fills the space between us.
"So I hear you and my brother have plans Saturday." Changing the subject seems like a good idea.
He grins. "Yeah, it should be fun."
The breeze picks up and blows the hair off my neck. I shiver.
"Are you sure you don't want to come up?"
I stare into his eyes for a moment and then down to his lips. The last time I was in his apartment, I threw myself at him and ended up spending the night. That was before I learned about his job.
I turn the key in the ignition. "No, I gotta go. Thanks for the info."
He takes a step back as I shift the car into reverse and pull out of the spot. "I'll talk to you soon," he shouts.
I watch him in my rearview as I drive off. I believe him, but I wonder if we'll ever be the same again. How do you learn to trust someone who lied to you?
* * *
The next morning, I wake up to clanking. Again. At least this time I'm in my bed. I shower, dress, and gulp down a mug of coffee before I head downstairs. Pop stands in the kitchen surveying a couple of men—older than me but slightly younger than Pop—install the brand new, super duper, shiny freezer. The old one sits in the middle of the kitchen causing a major holdup to traffic. Good th
ing the deli isn't open yet.
I wish I was here last night when Thomas crossed over. I would've liked to see it, what with the freezer not working and all. Did he just pass through the outside wall? I doubt the condition of the freezer changes how a ghost moves on, but being that the freezer is…well, freezing, it made the whole departure more fitting in the past. One day I'm going to find out why that thing is the portal. I'm pretty certain it's something to do with the land this building sits on and not the specific freezer. I mean, all freezers everywhere can't lead to the other side. That's ludicrous, right?
I try to sneak back out of the kitchen before Pop sees me and puts me to work. If the deli was open today, my shift wouldn't start until the afternoon, but I've been pulling some doubles with Izzie being all pukey. As I step out the back door, Ma pulls in and parks beside Pop's car. Crap. I have no time to make it upstairs without her seeing me. So I do the only thing a child does when trying to get away with something. I become a statue and freeze. I really need to work on my reflexes.
Ma doesn't seem to notice the stricken expression that I feel on my face. "How's it going in there?"
"Fine."
"Great. Since the freezer is new, I figure we can spend the day tearing the place apart cleaning. Come on." She opens the deli door.
"But I don't work now." My voice comes out weak and whiny.
She raises one brow and gives me her best I birthed you, raised you, and give you half rent on your apartment guilt. Mothers do that so well, but Italian moms add an extra special kick to it.
I sigh and follow her back inside. I start to tell myself that it shouldn't take too long. Ma is a neat freak, so how much can there be to clean? But I lived with this woman most of my life, and with her, clean takes on a new meaning. It won't matter that you can see your reflection in the stainless steel. She'll still have you polish it until you're tired of looking at yourself.
When I finally make it back to my apartment, my arms are so sore I can't condition my hair without groaning, and my back feels like I've slept on the floor for forty-eight straight hours. I manage to scrub all the sweat and grossness off my skin, dress in black leggings, boots, and a purple tunic. The entire day cleaning the deli. I don't want to see another sponge again in my life.
Two Ghosts & a Love Song (Dead by the Numbers Mysteries Book 2) Page 5