by Jessa Archer
“Respect is earned, Alicia. Paige doesn’t know you.” I decided not to add that Paige almost certainly wouldn’t respect her even if she did know her. “What exactly do you want?”
“I’m just following up on your offer yesterday,” Alicia said.
“Okay,” I responded after a moment. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that. I don’t remember offering you anything.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. “You offered to answer some questions.”
“For the article you already wrote. That offer has now expired. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get dinner started.”
“Were you in Caratoke or in California on December 27th?”
I debated refusing to answer. Alicia was being obnoxious and I didn’t owe the woman a response. But maybe the quickest way to get rid of her would be to give her the information and be done with it. I doubted Alicia would actually use any facts she was given—more likely she’d just pull stuff out of her nether regions like she did the first time. Still, I didn’t want to come off looking like I had anything to hide.
“In Caratoke. I met with my mother’s attorney and the realtor, and I picked up my mom’s cat. Then I drove back to Raleigh and flew home the next day.”
“And you stayed here, at the house?”
A movement at the window caught my eye. Paige, probably, peeking out to see what was happening. But I couldn’t help but remember seeing Caroline at that same window as I drove away.
“No,” I told Alicia. “I stayed at the Hilton in Kitty Hawk on the 27th. I left around two p.m. on the 28th, after the meeting with our attorney. If you’d like his name—”
“I’ve already spoken with his receptionist, thank you. Where did you have dinner on the 27th?”
I stopped and shook my head. “I…think…I grabbed takeout. I’d been going through my dead mother’s belongings, putting stuff into storage. I’m not even sure I ate, Alicia. It was a long and very emotional day. So if that’s all…?”
“A woman matching your general description was seen dining with Jerry Amundsen at Blue Lagoon around 8:30 on the evening of the 27th.”
“Matching my general description?”
“Yes. Same height, weight, hair color, and approximate age. The waiter said there was an argument. That’s why he remembered.”
“So…average height, average weight with brown hair. How many women in their late thirties match that description? I never met Amundsen. I never had dinner with him. And I certainly didn’t have anything to do with his death. Why don’t you go cover a garden show or something instead of trying to create drama where it doesn’t exist?”
Alicia’s eyes narrowed. “Create drama? What a callous way to refer to a man’s murder.”
“They’ve determined that he was murdered?” I asked.
Alicia tossed her head and gave me a tight smile. “I can’t divulge that information.”
“Except you sort of just did. And I don’t have anything else to say to you except get your fat SUV off my flower bed.”
“What was that about?” Paige asked as I slammed the door behind me.
“Alicia Brown seems intent on turning me into a murderer…either by pinning Amundsen’s death on me or by making me wring her stupid neck. So. How was your day?”
Paige’s lips curved upward. “Better. Can Nathan come to dinner tonight?”
“Yes, he can.”
“Thank you,” she said, kissing my cheek. “Can we order pizza?”
“How about I make the pizza? I feel the need to punch something repeatedly.”
“And better pizza dough than that Alicia person’s face? I’m not sure I agree on that point, but it’s your call. What time should I tell him?”
“Seven should be…” I stared at the window seat, where my mother’s ghost was again sitting, watching the two of us. “Um, seven should be fine.”
My expression must have changed. Paige tilted her head, concern in her dark eyes. “You okay, Mom?”
I nodded, but then decided to see whether Paige sensed anything. Looking directly at the window seat, I asked, “Does the room seem…I don’t know…different to you?”
Paige followed my gaze. “Well…I’m still not used to the new furniture. I liked Nana’s old dining-room set better. And I think something’s up with the heater. Every now and then it gets wicked cold in here.” She stared at me for a moment. “Oh…I get it. That was a not-so-subtle hint that we still have boxes everywhere, wasn’t it? Fine, I was going to get a shower, but I’ll pick them up.”
“No,” I said. “That’s okay. Go ahead and get your shower. I’ll help you with the boxes once I start the dough.”
Paige quickly retreated up the stairs before I could change my mind. I turned back to the window seat, almost certain that Caroline would be gone. But she was still there. The only thing that had changed was that Attila was now on her lap.
Although, that wasn’t quite right. It was more like Attila had partially replaced Caroline’s lap. The cat was curled up inside my mother’s ghost the same way he would be inside a dresser drawer that someone left open.
I backed into the kitchen, keeping my eyes on my mother as I pulled out the flour, olive oil, and other ingredients for the pizza crust from the pantry. Then I grabbed the mixer and mixing bowl, still not looking away.
This was the second time in a single day that Caroline’s ghost had popped in, and I decided that we would not simply make small talk about the dean’s assistant or which shoes I should wear. It was time to deal with the elephant—or rather the ghost—in the room.
So, once I heard the shower running and was fairly certain Paige wouldn’t overhear me, I asked, “Are you just a visual hallucination this evening, or is there an audio track?”
“You’re not crazy, Antigone.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear. I mean, given that you’re a psychologist and you’re pretty familiar with crazy. But on the other hand, you’re dead and we’re having a conversation, so…”
Her expression grew sad.
“You knew that already, right? That you’re…”
“Dead?” She nodded. “I didn’t realize it at first. But I pieced it together after a bit. It was…an adjustment.”
I suspected that was an understatement, and that my mother probably wanted to talk about it. But I was also worried that we wouldn’t have much time to talk before Paige came back downstairs. “Why are you here? I mean, still here, rather than wherever you should be. I thought at first that it was because of the missing ring, but then we found it, and…”
The night of Caroline’s memorial service, we’d discovered that her black opal ring, the one that she’d planned to leave to Paige, was missing. I was afraid that someone had stolen it, but it eventually turned up in a crevasse on Mom’s treadmill.
“I don’t know why I’m still here,” she said.
“Why am I the only one who can see you?”
“You’re not the only one who can see me, although you do seem to be the only human. This isn’t the first time Attila has curled up right in the middle of me. In fact, that was one of my first clues that I was no longer…corporeal. And you should really keep your eyes on those ingredients, dear. Otherwise, that crust is going to be terrible. I’m not leaving yet.”
“Isn’t that…uncomfortable?” I nodded toward the cat.
“Not really. I can’t feel him. He’ll wander off if I stay more than a few moments. I think he gets cold, poor baby. But a few minutes is usually all I can muster anyway. Do you know how I died?”
“You don’t know?” I asked as I poured the warm water and olive oil in and started the mixer.
“All I managed to pick up is that it was some sort of freak accident. No one seems to want to talk about the specifics of the death when visiting after a funeral. I suppose they think it’s tacky, but it’s very frustrating for the person who died.”
“I’ll keep that in mind at my next funeral,” I said while putting away the ingre
dients. “Which will apparently be in a few days now that they’ve found Amundsen’s body. Except we’re not entirely sure how he died, so I might not be able to help him anyway.”
“But you do know how I died, right?” Caroline prodded. “I don’t think I can hold visibility much longer.”
I looked back over and saw that she was indeed growing faint around the edges.
“You slipped on the stairs at Markham Hall. A group of students found you. They said it was probably…instantaneous. Why do you suppose you’re not there, instead of here? Don’t ghosts generally stay where they die?”
“I have no idea. And I think you forgot…the…salt.”
Caroline’s voice faded away on that last remark, and when I looked up, Attila was alone on the window seat. At first, I thought she was talking about using salt to ward off ghosts, like they did on that show Supernatural that Paige liked. But then I realized she meant the dough. I turned off the mixer, pinched a small piece from the dough hook, and discovered that my mother’s ghost had indeed been paying closer attention to my cooking than I had.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Okay…” Paige said from the stairway. “But what are you reminding me to thank you for?”
“Uh…finally remembering to add the salt?” I said lamely as I sprinkled two teaspoons of salt into the bowl and restarted the mixer.
Paige nodded slowly, her expression clearly saying let’s humor the crazy lady. “Thank you for remembering to add the salt. And the water, and the flour, and whatever else you put in there. Have you been hitting the wine already?”
“No. But that’s actually a fabulous idea.” I opened one of the peach wine coolers, took a sip, and then shuddered. It was better when I’d cut it with the iced tea the night before.
Paige began breaking down one of the cardboard boxes scattered about in the living room. “Why did you buy cheerleader beer?”
“I didn’t buy it. It was a housewarming gift.”
Paige looked confused for a moment. “Oh. That’s what was in the bag last night? Since when does the chief of police deliver alcohol?”
“When he used to be your high school boyfriend and…well, it was sort of a joke.”
“You dated Nathan’s dad?” Paige asked, incredulous.
“Yep. The year before I moved to California, and for the first few years that Travis was in college. And no, I have absolutely no idea why your grandmother didn’t connect the dots. For either of us.”
I realized that was something else I should have asked my mother about. Oh, well, I’d save it for the next time Caroline-the-Friendly-Ghost decided to make an appearance.
“Oh, I can answer that,” Paige said. “Because she knew it would weird me out. Ick. That makes Nathan like my…could-have-been stepbrother or something.”
I laughed. “Yes. I suppose in some alternate universe, that could have happened. But in some alternate universe you might have wings or gills or a long tail like Attila.”
“Those seem like much less probable universes.” Paige ripped another box in half and stomped on a third to flatten it, then carried them out to the recycling bin in the garage.
After she finished with the boxes, Paige took a seat at the kitchen counter. I could feel her watching me as I put the dough on the back of the stove to rise.
“What?” I asked, a bit exasperated. “I guess your Nana was right, because I would never have imagined the fact that I dated Nathan’s dad would bother you this much.”
Paige drew her finger through a splotch of flour on the counter, then said, “Please tell me he’s not my dad.”
I stared at her for a moment, completely stunned. But was it really all that surprising that Paige would jump to that conclusion?
“Oh, God. No! I mean, it wouldn’t matter, really—Nathan isn’t Travis’s biological son. But no. I hadn’t seen Travis in over a year when you were born.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes! There is absolutely, one hundred percent no way on earth that Travis Lamm is your father.”
There was a long silence, one that I was almost certain Paige would bridge by moving to the next logical question…a question I would have to dodge. But Paige just nodded and went back into the living room to tear up some more boxes.
Then I remembered my dinner plans with Travis for the weekend—plans that any reasonable person might consider a date—and quickly finished off the much-too-sweet wine cooler. Maybe I should wait a day or two before telling Paige that her mom dating Nathan’s dad was not merely past tense.
Chapter Eight
I tossed the newspaper into the trash and doused it with the last few drops of my coffee. The first two mornings here, I hadn’t bothered to collect the paper from the lawn, assuming that the copy must belong to a neighbor. But those copies, along with today’s edition, had been stacked neatly on our porch this morning, so my mom must have had a subscription that I never canceled.
Despite initial reservations about what I might find inside, I’d eventually yielded to temptation. Maybe it would be wiser to start the day knowing exactly which tidbits circulating around campus were the wildly inflated rumors and which were the rumors coming straight from the horse’s mouth—although I’m more inclined to associate The Clarion’s lead reporter with the opposite end of the horse.
Alicia’s intrepid reporting in the Wednesday edition included not just a garish photograph of Amundsen’s body, but also an approximate time of death, and the interview with the waiter from Blue Lagoon indicating that Amundsen had been seen arguing with a mystery woman only hours before. The vague description of this woman was right smack next to the horrible picture Alicia took of me on my first day at SCU. There was no direct accusation, of course, so Alicia could always claim that photograph was simply in the article to illustrate that I was one of the people who found Amundsen’s body. If it just happened to leave a different impression in a reader’s mind…well, Alicia could hardly be blamed for that, could she?
Paige came dashing down the stairs, backpack over one shoulder. “Bye, Mom! Nathan’s here.”
“You’re riding with Nathan?” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Yes. I told you last night, remember? Just after he left?”
“Oh. Right.” I didn’t actually remember that conversation at all, but the entire dinner had been a bit surreal. Nathan was a very nice boy. That didn’t surprise me since Caroline had approved Paige dating him, and since he had an excellent role model in Travis.
What did surprise me was my reaction to seeing him with Paige. Her prior dating history was a school dance with a classmate out in California last year. The two of them had been cute and very awkward as they posed for photographs in front of the fireplace. Paige had been so nervous that she’d barely managed a smile for the camera, and the boy’s mother had driven them to and from the dance.
Last night, however, was the first time I had seen Paige curl up on the couch next to someone while they watched TV. The first time I’d seen my daughter holding a guy’s hand. Sharing jokes that I didn’t get in the slightest.
It was way beyond stupid to be jealous, but I kind of was anyway. With the exception of my parents and Paige’s occasional solo trips to visit Justin in New York, I’d had her mostly to myself for nearly sixteen years. I wasn’t at all sure that I was ready to share.
I sank down onto the sofa next to Attila and scratched his favorite spot, right at the base of his tail. “Well, buddy, I guess it’s just you and me.”
Caroline’s soft laughter echoed from the window seat. “It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it? I remember that feeling all too well from when you were her age, wondering where on earth the time had gone. One minute I’m teaching you to ride your bike without the training wheels and the next thing I know you’re asking for the car keys or heading out with Travis. You’re going to have the urge to dress Paige in footie pajamas and read her bedtime stories for the next few weeks, but you should probably resist.”
I laughed. “I guess the upside of being abandoned is that I can have a second cup of coffee, since I don’t have to drop Paige off.”
“You look more like you need a Xanax than coffee,” Caroline said. “Is it Alicia again?”
I didn’t remember mentioning anything about Alicia when Caroline’s ghost was visible. “So, you can hear what we’re saying when you’re not…corporeal?”
“Sometimes. Things fade in and out. Sort of like I do, I guess. I can see and hear you better when I’m all here, and it seems easier for me to appear in places where I’ve spent a lot of time. In this case, I knew about Alicia because I was in the living room with Paige when she knocked yesterday. Surely the woman can’t think she’ll have any success trying to pin this thing on you? You didn’t even know Jerry. What motive could you possibly have?”
“She seems to be leaning toward a financial motive, since I stepped into the dead man’s job.”
“Ask Marjorie to share your salary information,” Caroline said with a thin smile. “That should remove any possible doubt. To be honest, I’m surprised you even took the position. When Marjorie suggested offering you the job earlier this year, I told her it was a good deal less than what you earned at Wildwood, so I didn’t even mention—”
“Wait. Why would Dean Prendergast have suggested offering me the job earlier this year? The position only opened up when Amundsen sent her an email saying he resigned.”
“Oh, Jerry was constantly threatening to resign. At least once a year. Marjorie never took him seriously, but she was getting tired of it. Plus, there were rumors that he’d been involved with a student over the summer. More than rumors, really. I think she was just weighing possi…ble opt…”