Suddenly Psychic: Glimmer Lake Book One

by Hunter, Elizabeth

  “I can go upstairs,” Monica said. “Look on the walls for stuff. I love old houses.”

  “Perfect.” Robin unlocked the kitchen door and walked inside. “Grandma Helen?”

  Helen poked her head out of the bedroom. “I thought the cleaning girls were back.”

  “No. I fired them, Grandma.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell. “One of them was very nice. She always made me coffee when she was here.”

  Probably because she felt guilty for not doing her job.

  “I know, Grandma, but they weren’t doing a good job.”

  Val was poking in the corners and shaking her head. “Surface only,” she muttered.

  “Hi, Grandma Helen.” Monica walked over and gave Helen a hug. “Your house is so beautiful. I love your view from here.”

  “Thank you.” Helen squinted. “You changed your hair and it looks very pretty.”

  “Thanks. I like yours. Did you just get it done?”

  “My Gracie took me into town yesterday.” Helen patted Monica’s cheek. “How are you, sweet girl? I was thinking about Gilbert last Sunday. I remember him singing in the Christmas choir.”

  Monica swallowed hard. “Didn’t he have a beautiful voice?”

  “He surely did.” Helen sat at the table. “And is that Valerie?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Val put the cookies on the table. “I brought some chocolate-fudge cookies from my café.”

  “Oh, I do like chocolate.” Helen turned slightly. “But I need some coffee.”

  “I’ll make that.” Val hopped up.

  “And I’m going to call Jake about something.” Monica walked toward the dining room door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Helen sat at the table and looked out over the lake. “I’m missing the sun today.”

  “It’s supposed to be clear tomorrow.”

  “That’s good.” She reached for Robin’s hand. “You have a question for me.”

  “Do I?” Robin tried and failed to ask about Billy Grimmer. “I was thinking about Uncle Raymond the other day,” she started. “Mom and he don’t talk much.”

  A shadow of sorrow passed over Helen’s face. “They were never close, which made me sad. No one ever understands you like your brothers and sisters. Even if you don’t get along, they know you better than anyone.”

  “Is it because of Grandfather? Raymond and his dad didn’t get along well, did they?”

  Helen’s chin tilted up. “Raymond was headstrong. Gordon and he often disagreed when he got older. But Gordon was very kind to him when he was a boy.”

  Robin frowned. What an odd thing to say. “Kind?”

  “Yes, Gordon was very kind,” Helen said. “When Ray was older, they had a harder relationship. I think Grace tried to play peacemaker sometimes, but she wasn’t very successful.”

  Val sat down with two cups of coffee. “Where’s Raymond now?” she asked. “I can’t remember Robin ever mentioning him visiting.”

  “He hasn’t been back in a few years, but he writes very regularly.” Helen pointed to a drawer. “Every week. Your mother never asks about him. He calls too, but not as often. He knows I don’t like talking on the telephone.”

  “Is he married?” Robin asked.

  “He is,” Helen said. “His first wife wasn’t a nice person, but his second wife is lovely. She has three grown children, and they’re very much a part of Ray’s life.”

  “That’s great.” This was all news to Robin. “So why did Grandfather and he fight so much, do you think?”

  Helen turned to Robin with concern. “Are you and Austin fighting again?”

  “No, Grandma, that’s not why I’m asking.”

  “You shouldn’t fight with your son. He’s just taking his time. Sometimes the most interesting personalities like yours don’t always know what they’re meant to do right away.”

  Was that Robin’s problem? Was she just a late bloomer? Forty-five was pretty damn late to be figuring out what she wanted in life.

  Val asked, “What about Raymond? Did he know what he wanted?”

  Helen laughed. “To be out of this house.”

  “And he never came back,” Robin said. “Even after Grandfather—”

  “Gordon was very kind to Raymond,” Helen said again. “And he didn’t need to be, you know. But he was. And Raymond didn’t understand that, so their fights could be very bad.”

  There it was again. Robin and Val exchanged a look.

  Weird?

  Yeah, totally weird.

  Why did Helen keep telling Robin how “kind” Grandfather Russell had been when everything Robin had heard told her the exact opposite? According to Robin’s mother, Grandfather Russell doted on his daughter and fought like mad with his son. And who described a father as being “kind” to his son and said “he didn’t need to be”?

  Was there a reason for that?

  Did it have to do with Billy Grimmer?

  Grandma Helen reached for the drawer. “You should call your Uncle Raymond. His number is in there. He asks after you and Mark often. I know he’d be happy to hear from you.”

  “I think I’ll do that.” Robin took her grandmother’s address book and snapped a picture of the page with her uncle’s information. “Hey, Grandma, remember that town history project I was working on?”

  “About the dam?”

  “Yes, and the town of Grimmer.” Robin watched Helen’s face. “We keep coming across Billy Grimmer’s name. Does that sound familiar to you?”

  Helen took a sip of her coffee. “He was just a boy in town. Why is his name coming up?”

  “He worked on the dam.”

  “Lots of boys did,” Helen said. “Before the lake came.”

  “What happened to the Grimmer family?” Val asked. “Did they all move away?”

  Helen stared out the window. “I suppose he went with them to Sacramento. I suppose he did. They went to Sacramento and… he was going to join them. I imagine he went there.”

  “So you did know him?” Robin asked. “Were you friends?”

  Helen’s smile was strained. “No. Why are you asking about Billy Grimmer? Such an old name and an old family. All the Grimmers are gone now.”

  Because he didn’t follow his family to Sacramento, Helen. He drowned in Glimmer Lake and I’m seeing his ghost and he has something to do with our family.

  Monica poked her head into the kitchen. “Hey ladies, do you have a minute?”

  Robin leaned over and kissed Helen’s cheek. “I’ll be right back, Grandma. Monica needs our help with something.”

  “Okay.” Helen reached for a cookie. “I think I’ll have some chocolate.”

  * * *

  Val and Robin followed Monica into the large, wood-paneled entryway.

  “What’s up?” Robin asked.

  “Okay, I found this picture with Raymond’s name on the back.” Monica flipped over a picture frame. “Now, Robin, I can’t see Billy’s ghost, but from what I remember in my dream—”

  Robin reached for the picture, which appeared to have been taken post high school. “Wow, he was the spitting image of Billy Grimmer.”

  In the black-and-white photograph, Raymond was leaning against an old car and Grace was leaning next to him in a skirt, smiling. They didn’t look like they were fighting. They looked like a brother and sister posing for a family picture. Grace was the mirror image of Helen, and Ray looked like a carbon copy of Billy Grimmer.

  “Where did you find this?” Robin stared at it. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “It was in a room upstairs in a dresser. Also, yeah, this house needs a lot of deep cleaning, and I’m going to have Jake come around tomorrow to deal with some leaks in the upstairs bathrooms. He’s great at that stuff.”

  “Oh cool. Just tell me how much I owe him and—”

  “Please. I cook for the kid every night. He can help out your grandma and bring her lunch.”

  “Grandma will love that,” Robin said. “Thanks, Monica.”
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  Val said, “I know talking with Helen is complicated—I could tell you were kind of struggling with how to bring all this up—but I definitely think you need to call your uncle. I have a feeling he probably knows more than anyone else in the family about how you might be connected to the Grimmers.”

  “Not related, but there’s something else.” Monica started up the stairs. “I can’t really explain it, just… follow me.”

  Monica led them up the stairs and across the long landing where bedrooms branched off from the open entryway that overlooked the lake. The landing had a second staircase at either end, both leading to the third floor.

  Robin, Val, and Monica walked up the flight of stairs, and Robin immediately felt the chill in the old house.

  “Sheesh. I’d forgotten how cold the third floor is.”

  “Doesn’t hot air rise?” Val was looking around the long hallway that ran between the two staircases. “What’s up here?”

  “Uh, the kids’ rooms. Some storage. A maid’s quarters from when they used to have full-time help. A sewing room. Stuff like that.”

  “So your mom and uncle were up here on the third floor with the domestic staff and the storage?”

  “Children were to be seen and not heard,” Robin said. “I never claimed it was a healthy home.”

  Monica stepped forward and pointed at a narrow hallway between rooms. “And what’s that?”

  The chill became more pronounced.

  “That’s the staircase to the attic,” Robin said. “More storage.” Just looking at the narrow hallway gave her goose bumps.

  “Have you ever been up there?”

  “No way.”

  Monica narrowed her eyes. “Never?”

  “No.”

  Val said, “Really? I mean, not even when you were a kid to explore or snoop for Christmas presents or anything?”

  “No one goes up there,” Robin said. “I don’t know. Not since Grandpa Russell died. We just don’t. I remember my dad saying something about putting a bunch of Grandpa’s things up there, but that’s all I can really remember.”

  “So there’s a room in your grandparents’ huge old mansion that’s super cold and creepy, and you never once had the urge to explore it?” Monica said. “Does that strike you as weird?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  “Can we go?” Val rubbed her arms. “I’d rather not hang out here. And I definitely don’t want to touch anything.”

  “Okay,” Monica said. “But I think you need to ask your dad about what all is up there. Because something about that hallway and that staircase seems off.”

  “If my grandfather’s ghost was haunting his house, don’t you think I’d have seen him by now?” Robin asked. “Monica, this time I think you’re letting your imagination get away from you.”

  “Okay,” Monica said. “But think about it. And definitely ask your dad.”

  * * *

  Robin was lying awake, trying to get into the same mood as her husband, while her brain kept drifting to the old house and the cold room at the top of the stairs.

  Mark kissed her neck while his hands traveled down her torso. “Hey.”

  It was Friday night and they’d gone out for dinner, just the two of them. It had been fun, and they’d talked about Robin turning Austin’s room into a studio or possibly converting a room at the shop into a studio if the light was right. Mark had been great and enthusiastic, and it was the most fun Robin could remember having with him in months.

  When they’d gotten home, he’d been eager to get into bed. So had Robin. For the first time in months, she’d actually been feeling smart and sexy and desirable instead of old and tired. Mark hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her in the car.

  But as soon as they’d gotten in bed and he’d started his usual seduction, her brain had started to wander. Mark’s hands were moving to all the places they usually did, and he was doing all the things that… usually did not lead to Robin having a good time.

  If he could…

  Nope. Maybe if he did that longer she’d…

  Uh-uh.

  If only…

  “Stop,” Robin blurted.

  Mark raised his head. “What’s wrong?”

  Oh, why was it so hard to talk about this? She wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear. Or maybe just pretend it was working and get it over with.

  No. Stop pretending.

  You have to ask for what you want.

  She spoke quietly. “I don’t actually… like that.”

  Mark frowned. “What?”

  “When you do the thing—”

  “You mean…?” He moved his hand.

  “Yes. That. I don’t like it.”

  He blinked rapidly. “But I always do that.”

  “And I don’t like it.” She bit her lip. “Sorry. It just… it feels good at first, but then you don’t do it long enough and you switch to something else and—”

  “Wait so…” He pulled away and frowned. “That’s not working for you?”

  She shook her head slightly.

  “Robin, I’ve been doing… that for like twenty years now. Probably longer.”

  She spoke as quickly as she could manage. “And everything used to work faster, but I don’t know, it’s just not happening like it used to and I think I need—”

  “Wait.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “Is this why you haven’t wanted to have sex?”

  “Maybe,” she muttered under her breath.

  She couldn’t read his eyes, but she could tell his earlier enthusiasm was gone. “So you’ve been unhappy with… that for years now?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “And you didn’t say anything?”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “Could you really not tell I wasn’t having a good time?”

  “Uh, no. I couldn’t. I’m not a fucking mind reader, Robin.”

  He was pissed. More than pissed. He was actually angry. He got out of bed and crossed his arms. His boxers were still tented, but she could tell he was no longer in the mood.

  “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “I’m…” She sat up and held the sheet up to cover herself. “I am trying to communicate better, okay? It’s not easy.”

  “It’s not easy to say don’t do that, do this?” He glared. “Really? What’s so hard about that? Is it harder than shutting me down in bed for years?”

  The burning in her chest was anger. It was also embarrassment. And frustration.

  “You didn’t exactly ask.” Her voice was tight. “You just assumed—”

  “What else was I supposed to do when you don’t tell me anything?” Mark walked to the closet and emerged wearing a pair of flannel pants. He grabbed his pillow and walked to the door. “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight. I have an early meeting tomorrow anyway.”

  “On Saturday?”

  “Some of us don’t get to only work when we feel like it.”

  And with that, the door slammed shut.

  Chapter 17

  Robin sat at the diner in Modesto, waiting to meet the uncle she hadn’t seen in years. It had been a week since her disastrous date night with Mark, and he was still sleeping in the guest room. Emma had noticed, but she didn’t say anything. Mark muttered something about not wanting to bother her when he had early meetings, and all Robin could do was nod.

  This is it. This is your life.

  This is the rest of your life.

  She hadn’t seen Billy’s ghost again, not even when she’d gone out to the lakeside at dusk. She hadn’t returned to Grandma Helen’s house. She didn’t know how to bring up her suspicions about Billy Grimmer with her ninety-five-year-old grandma, and she didn’t even know why she was meeting her uncle.

  This is ridiculous, a voice in her mind whispered. You’re not special, Robin. You don’t have any special supernatural powers. What you have is an active imagination and a midlife crisis.


  Midlife. What did that even mean? Halfway through, that’s what it meant. If she lived to be ninety, she was halfway done with her allotted time.

  And what did she have to show for it?

  A dead-in-the-water marriage.

  Two kids who thought she was irrelevant.

  A semisuccessful business that did nothing important.

  She didn’t make anything. She didn’t create anything. She sold other people’s old things. How pathetic was that? No wonder Mark didn’t have any interest in talking to her. He probably had far more interesting people to interact with. Austin would probably change majors, study art, and become something amazing, no thanks to her. Emma would probably go on to do something glittering and fabulous, far away from Glimmer Lake, while Robin stayed forever, slowly becoming more irrelevant as she shrank into nothing.

  You were stupid. There’s nothing special about you.

  This is it. This is your life.

  This is the rest of your life.

  “Robin?”

  She schooled her face and turned to see a handsome, silver-haired man walking through the diner door with a broad smile.

  Robin had to return his smile. “Hi, Uncle Raymond.” She rose and walked into his hug.

  “It is so great to see you.” His arms were strong and reassuring. Her own father was a kind man, but he was a bit aloof.

  Raymond said, “I can’t believe how long it’s been.”

  She put on her happy mask. “Same. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Sacramento, right?”

  “North a bit. Roseville.”

  “Right. Thanks for driving down to meet me. You know, Austin isn’t too far from you. He’s going to school in Chico.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” Raymond smiled and sat in the booth across from her. “You know, Debby’s oldest has a daughter at Chico. She’s majoring in accounting. What’s Austin studying?”

  Robin blew out a breath. “What isn’t he studying? He originally went in for business, whatever that means. And then he switched to forest management after the summer he worked with Jack—”