Monica’s lip curled up. “I want to say you’re wrong, but you’re probably not. I still think we should ask. She’ll probably suggest we get our heads examined, but we can ask.”
Robin opened her car door. “Fine. But if we get kidnapped, put in an isolated government bubble house, and our brains get experimented on, I’m blaming you.”
“Go have sex with your husband!” Monica shouted. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Say that a little louder maybe?”
“Go—!”
Robin slammed the car door and spun toward the porch. Go have sex with your husband… Monica was so full of it. She and Mark had sex. Sometimes.
Okay, it had been a while.
She opened the front door and toed off her shoes. It wasn’t snowy or muddy yet, but her shoes were covered in dirt from the lake.
“Emma!” She unwound her scarf. “Mark?”
“In the kitchen, Mom!”
She walked back and found Mark and Emma cooking dinner together. Mark was pressing meat loaf into a pan while Emma dumped some frozen green beans in a glass bowl.
Her daughter looked up. “Hey, Mamacita.”
Robin walked over and pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Good.” Emma flashed her dimples. “I got an A on my history project.”
“Oh, sweetie! That’s so awesome!”
School didn’t come easy to her daughter like it did for her son. Emma worked twice as hard to get half the GPA Austin got without trying.
Mark looked up with a smile. “She called me from school, so I swung by the store and got her a chocolate pie.”
“Yessss.” Emma danced across the kitchen to put the glass bowl in the microwave. “And I get half.”
“Half?” Robin laughed. “No one needs that much sugar.”
“I do.”
Robin hadn’t even said hello to Mark. He was humming along to a song under his breath. Something upbeat. He was cooking dinner. He’d bought their sweet daughter her favorite pie.
She walked over and stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How’s my favorite guy?”
He turned his head, surprised. A smile flirted at the corner of his mouth. “I’m good.”
“Cool.” Robin felt suddenly shy. Why? She kissed Mark all the time, didn’t she? Maybe she didn’t.
“Did you find the bracelet?”
“The what?”
He frowned. “Monica’s bracelet? The one you were going to the lake to—”
“Oh! Right.” She shrugged. “We could hardly see. But we ended up having a good talk about some stuff she’s been dealing with, so it’s all good.”
“I’m glad.” He turned to the sink to wash his hands. “Bummer about the bracelet though.”
“Yeah.” Robin opened the oven door and slid the meat loaf inside.
“She needs to call a psychic,” Emma said. “You know, like those people on the TV.”
“Right,” Mark said. “’Cause those are so real. I think a metal detector might be more useful.”
“But far less cool,” Emma said. “What do you say, Mom? Psychic or metal detector for finding lost things?”
Well, this was awkward. “Metal detector,” Robin said. “Definitely. You can rent those down at Glimmer Lake Sports. I don’t have any idea where you’d rent a psychic.”
Chapter 14
Shopping for cars had to be Robin’s least favorite thing to do ever. But since the Subaru was totaled from the crash, she needed a vehicle. Something sturdy. Something good in snow. She’d been depending on friends and borrowing Mark’s truck for way too long.
“What about this?” Mark pointed to the largest SUV on the lot.
Robin glanced up at him. “Are we moving someplace that doesn’t have any roads?”
“It’s nice, right?” He opened the door as the hopeful salesman hovered in the distance. “Leather interior. This has all the modern guidance systems—”
“Most of which won’t work up here because there’s no cell signal,” Robin said. “I don’t need anything fancy.”
The salesman’s face fell.
Mark slammed the car door shut. “We’re not getting you a piece of junk.”
Emma was leaning against a neighboring pickup truck, playing on her phone. She’d be no help.
Robin said, “I think there’s something between a giant luxury tank and a piece of junk, Mark. What about another Subaru?”
Mark made a face. He’d never liked the Subaru.
“Subarus are very safe,” Robin said. “Maybe they’re not sexy-looking but—”
“I don’t care about sexy.” Mark walked to the next giant SUV. “I just want you driving something… substantial.”
“Substantial?”
“Big, okay? When it comes to being in accidents, size does matter.”
Emma snorted.
“Hey,” Mark barked. “You’re not supposed to think that’s funny.”
“Sure, Dad.” She never looked up from her phone. “Mom doesn’t like giant cars. She thinks they’re hard to park.”
Mark frowned at her. “You have no problem parking the truck.”
“But I don’t drive that every day. Plus it just seems wasteful. Emma’s going off to school next year. Austin’s gone already, along with all his football gear. I don’t need a giant car. Buying all this seems silly.”
“I don’t think keeping you safe is silly.” Mark left her and walked over to the salesman. “Which of your cars has the best safety rating? I mean, the absolute best. Do you have brochures about that?”
The two men walked back toward the office and Robin joined Emma, leaning on the truck opposite Emma’s as she surveyed the car lot in Bridger City.
“He’s just worried about you,” Emma said. “You should probably let him get you a giant car.”
“No, I shouldn’t. I have to drive it every day. The only reason for me to have a big car is to take them to estate sales. And what happens when I go to an estate sale?”
“You take Dad’s truck because you always end up getting tall stuff.”
“Exactly.”
Robin watched as a man in a retro-looking suit walked toward them. It took Robin a moment to realize the man was a ghost. He had the same faint aura Billy did, and his hair and clothes were straight out of the 1970s. He didn’t look at Robin. He hadn’t noticed either of them. He was strolling through the car lot like it was his regular routine. It looked like he might be whistling.
Had he died at the car lot? He carried no visible injuries. Had he suffered a heart attack? Stroke?
Why did some ghosts get attached to a place? Could they move? Travel? Or were they stuck in one place for eternity? Why had she only seen Billy’s ghost near the lake or the sheriff’s office? Could he move other places? Why had he become a ghost in the first place?
Obviously, not every person turned into a ghost after they died, otherwise she’d see way, way more of them. Counting Car Lot Man over there, she’d only ever seen four. Billy Grimmer, the little girl by the lake, Nurse Hawkins, and Car Lot Man. Why did ghosts stay in one place instead of moving on? Why did some seem to know what had happened to them, like Billy, and others not have a clue, like the nurse in the hospital?
Car Lot Man looked happy. He looked content even. He wandered up and down the rows of freshly washed vehicles, nodding at the living people he passed, not noticing or maybe not caring that they didn’t wave or nod back.
He was happy. Maybe he didn’t want to move on. Maybe the old car lot was his favorite place in the world.
“Where’s the one place you feel most at home?” Robin asked Emma.
“Other than home?”
“Including home.”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Emma looked up from her phone. “I feel most at home when I’m at home.”
“Good.” Robin’s heart was doing the warm-fuzzy dance. “Sadly, it’s not obvious. I never felt all that at home in Grandma and Grandp
a’s house.”
“That’s because Grandma sees her house as a showroom.”
How did her daughter get to be so wise? “I guess that’s true,” Robin said. “Half the stuff in my house growing up was for sale. I think she even sold my dresser once.”
“And your dollhouse.”
Robin stared at Emma. “You remember that story?”
“Dude.” Emma looked at her phone again. “Mom, that was so wrong.”
“Well, Grandma figured that Grandpa could make me another one, and she did give me part of the money.”
“It was your dollhouse. You should have gotten all the money.”
“This is your grandma we’re talking about. I knew even at age seven that arguing was worthless.”
“What about Grandma Helen’s house? You had your own room at Russell House, right?”
Robin shuddered. “No. Russell House was never home.” That was probably why her mother had always been so mercenary about possessions. Her own father hadn’t exactly created a warm and comfortable home.
Emma was staring at her phone. “You know, Mom, you need to tell Dad what you want. He can’t read your mind or anything. He’s not psychic.”
“Ha ha.” The irony. “I don’t expect your dad to read my mind. I don’t know what I want.” She wanted her old Subaru station wagon back. It had moved beyond dated and into classic territory. Probably. “I want my old car back.”
“Your old car was a relic,” Emma said. “Get something cool.”
“And safe,” Robin said. “The most safe, apparently. Maybe your dad wants to get me a tank.”
“Nope. That would have sunk a lot faster.”
Robin winced. “Too soon.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I kind of regretted it as soon as I said it. Sorry.”
Robin sighed, watching Car Lot Man walk around the lot. Up and down. Back and forth. Happy to be ignored. Happy to keep doing the same thing over and over for all time.
“So what kind of car should I get?” Robin asked.
“I don’t know. What do you like?” Emma looked up. “Other than your old car?”
“Not a truck. Or one of these big things.”
“Well, whatever it is, you need to pick something and tell Dad. He’s waiting to get you something you want. He just wants you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom.”
* * *
“I think you should just get a new version of the car you lost,” Grace said. “Weren’t you happy with your old car?”
“It was your old car,” Robin muttered. “And yeah. I liked it.”
Grace shrugged. “So get a new one.” She held up a swatch of fabric. “This is too dark.”
They were talking over the seasonal decoration for the antique shop. Robin usually let her mom take the lead getting Glimmer Lake Curios ready for the season. Grace had a wonderful eye for design, and she wanted to make new swags for all the windows, which took time.
Robin glanced at the fabric swatch. “So find something lighter. I just picked that one because I liked the red against the walls.” The interior of the old house reflected the exterior. Log walls were bare through most of the living room that had been turned into the main showroom. Deep colors looked great. Pale colors disappeared.
Grace flipped through a giant ring of fabric samples. “It’s your shop now. You should decide.”
“Mom, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Don’t try to make me guess what you want. The bell over the door rang and Robin walked into the showroom, only to find no one there.
“Robin? Who is it, honey?”
“Just the wind.” She walked up and down the entry hallway. There were no cold spots. No gusts. Was it the wind, a ghost, or her imagination?
“We need something in a deep color,” Grace said, “but something that’s light enough to pop against the permanent curtains.”
Which were green. Robin knew exactly what Grace was doing. “Mom, you found one an hour ago.”
“Honey, this is your decision.”
You just want me to pick the one you already found! It was a cranberry red with a subtle snowflake pattern. It was nice. It was lovely, in fact. But Grace refused to make a decision; she wanted Robin to magically agree with her.
Just tell me you want the snowflakes!
Robin walked through the entry one last time and turned in to the showroom. She heard something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was faint, like a person talking at the end of a long hallway.
She walked to the window seat where she and Emma had created a kids’ corner for children to play while their parents shopped. There was a dollhouse and a shelf of books. A small table with buckets of crayons and scrap paper.
She was crouching down to pick up a few crayons that had fallen on the ground when she heard the noise behind her.
Creak.
Creak.
Robin slowly turned to see the antique rocker she’d placed near the children’s corner moving back and forth. There was a faint outline that grew more substantial the more she trained her eyes on it.
A woman appeared in the rocking chair. She was wearing a simple housedress, and her hair was frozen in crisp waves around her head. An apron covered her flowered day dress, the gingham trim popping against the bright blue pattern. She was in her early thirties if Robin had to guess, and she watched the children’s corner with sad eyes.
“Hey, Mom?” Robin kept her eyes on the woman in the rocking chair, wondering if she’d just found the source of her mystery bell.
“Yes?” Grace’s footsteps came from the kitchen. “You know, when I look at this room in the middle of the day, I think you could get away with the darker red, but most of your shoppers aren’t in the middle of the day until right before the season—”
“Mom, who built this house?”
Grace looked up from her fabric swatches. “What?”
“This house,” Robin said. “You know most of the town history. Who built this place? It was back in the forties, right?”
“Oh yes, this place was one of the first permanent homes in town. Quite a tragic story actually. I haven’t thought about it in years. The family was called the McGillises. What was his name? Hank? Henry? Something like that?”
Robin stared at the woman. “Was he married?”
The ghost hadn’t moved, and she hadn’t looked away from the children’s play area. She was rocking back and forth, though Grace seemed oblivious to the movement of the chair.
“Yes, he was a bit older, but he married a young woman. She’d been a teacher at the school. She wasn’t from here, but everyone liked her. I can’t think of her name just now. That’s so odd. I remember my mother talking about her. She was very well liked. A wonderful quilter, if I remember correctly.”
“Did they have children?”
Grace smiled. “What made you think of all this?”
Robin scrambled for an answer. “You know, I had a customer ask me the other day about the history of the house, and I realized I had no idea. I just remembered and I thought it’d be good to know. So, did they have children? The McGillis family?”
“Yes.” Grace’s smile was sad. “They didn’t have children for years and years. Who knows why? But then she finally did get pregnant, and she died giving birth to the baby.”
Robin’s heart broke as she studied the ghost watching the corner. “Did the baby live?”
“He did. And the family stayed for a while, but I think the husband and the boy moved away right around the time the little boy started school. The father didn’t have any other family in town. They’d already moved away before the dam was finished. So it was just him, and after his wife died… I wish I could remember her name! You know, I think one of the quilts at the museum was made by her. If you’re curious, you could go and look there.”
“I think I will. I wonder if I could get a picture of them.” She final
ly looked at her mother. “It would be good to put that up by the door, you know? The McGillis family home, then the Lewis family home. People love that kind of thing.”
“You’re right.” Grace held up the fabric swatches. “Which one do you want? I’ve got to get started on these curtain swags.”
“The cranberry red with snowflakes, Mom. You’ve had your finger stuck next to it for the past hour.”
“Have I?”
Robin cocked her head, looking at her mother, who never asked directly for anything. When she wanted something, she nudged and hinted and pouted until she got her way. She always had, as long as Robin could remember. It worked with her dad. It worked with sellers.
“Why don’t you ever just ask?” Robin sat in the window seat.
Grace frowned. “What?”
“You spotted that fabric an hour ago. You wanted to use it for the swags as soon as you saw it, but you didn’t tell me that. You wanted me to pick it.”
“Well” —Grace looked at the fabric swatches— “it’s your shop and—”
“It’s your shop too. I bought you out, but it’s still your shop. You work here. You started it. I don’t mind you having an opinion, Mom. You have a great eye for design.”
“It’s not my place to tell you what to do.”
“Grandma does the same thing,” Robin said. “Was it your dad?”
Grace’s expression tightened. “My father was very opinionated. He had a certain way of doing things.”
It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. “So if you wanted something, you had to make him think it was his idea, didn’t you?”
Grace waved a hand. “I’ve never thought about it. Why are we talking about this? If you like the cranberry and snowflake, then I’ll order that.”
“We’re talking about this because…”
Because I’ve been walking through my life like one of these ghosts.
I’ve spent forty-five years making myself more invisible.
I’ve been expecting people to read my mind.
Just like you.
Robin stood up and walked to her mom. “I want you to make the curtains with whatever fabric you want, Mom.” She felt her chest get tight. “And I think you should tell Dad you want to go to Hawaii for Christmas.”
Suddenly Psychic: Glimmer Lake Book One Page 12