“Weren’t you listening?” Tina asked. “Grandma does love Mom.”
“I don’t know why,” Gavin muttered. “She’s always mean.”
The words cut, even if he didn’t mean them.
“Anyway,” I said, “when she was traveling, Dad had to put me to bed, and he didn’t like excuses or pleas to tell Mom goodnight on the phone or requests for just one more book.”
“How many books did you get?” Gavin asked slyly.
“Not as many as I wanted. And we didn’t have cellphones, so it was expensive to call Mom every night, or even every trip.”
“No cellphones? Were you broke?”
“No one had cellphones. Well, a few people had mobile phones that were as big and heavy as bricks, but they were really uncommon.”
“Wow, you really lived in the Dark Ages, didn’t you?”
I sighed and shook my head. Of course I’d felt the same way about my own parents, but that had been justified. At the time, anyway.
“So what did he do to get you to sleep?” Tina asked.
“Usually threatened to cut off my TV privileges,” I said. “I wouldn’t get to watch my cartoons the next day, either morning or afternoon. Remember, this was before the days of Netflix — I had to watch shows when they were on, not whenever I wanted.”
“Dark Ages.”
Tina said, “That doesn’t sound too nice. Did you ever think maybe he didn’t love you?”
All the time. Like all kids do, I wondered why my parents bothered to have me if they hated me so much. Right now, I felt the same way about my kids — why was I bothering to struggle with raising them, when they obviously didn’t want to be around me? Pure stubbornness was my best guess.
“Maybe. It didn’t seem fair that I got the meanest parents in the whole wide world.”
Gavin again. “But at least you lived with both of your parents.”
“Yes, I did. But not with my aunts or grandparents or cousins. You have a lot more family around than I ever did.”
“I still want Daddy.”
“If you talk to him, will you go to bed without any more fighting?”
“I’m not fighting.”
Maybe not fighting, but resisting pretty damned hard, and I had hit my limit. “Fine, be that way. I won’t call him. Fall asleep whenever you want. Just remember that you’re leaving at the usual time for school in the morning.”
Cutting the ghost off had made the neighborhood safe enough for school to be an option again, anyway. One down, and who knew how many to go.
Man, I sucked as a parent. I’d tried to be calm and understanding and encouraging to get Gavin to bed, but no dice. He was still sitting propped up in a corner of the couch, pushing his eyes open any time they even looked like they were going to drift closed. If he’d been difficult tonight, he was going to be impossible in the morning. I felt sorry for his teacher, but not sorry enough to consider keeping him home.
I went into the kitchen where I could keep an eye on Gavin but carry on a conversation on my phone without disturbing him. I owed my dad an apology for being so hard on him when I was young.
He wasn’t the one who answered the phone, of course. “What a surprise!” Mom said. “Did you change your mind about the job at the brokerage?”
“No, Mom. I just called to chat. Is that okay?”
“I suppose. It’s just very unusual. Is everything okay?”
Okay? Had she not noticed when they were here on Saturday that the city was even more hostile than usual, that the news was full of people arguing in the streets, that road rage had tripled in the last week? No, everything was far from okay.
“I suppose. Just tired, and the kids weren’t helping tonight.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“I was a model child!”
“The model for the Exorcist, maybe.”
“Ha ha.” But the repeat of our frequent interchange lifted my spirits anyway. “Gavin in particular is being a bit of a brat. He doesn’t want to go to bed unless his dad puts him to bed.”
“So have Matt do it.”
“That works about as well as you putting me to bed when you were in Dublin or Lisbon.”
“You and your dad managed, and you always knew I’d be home in a few days. Your children don’t even have that reassurance.”
“They see Matt oftener than every few days, Mom.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
I threw my head back in exasperation and stared at the ceiling for a moment. I’d called for support, maybe some words about how I wasn’t as bad at this parenting gig as I was afraid I was, and instead I was getting a classic guilt trip.
“Maybe not, but they should be used to it. It’s not like they’ve ever lived in a two-parent household and have that to compare it with.”
“They have lots of other examples close at hand,” she said drily. “You don’t think they compare notes with their cousins about what bedtimes are like?”
That hadn’t even occurred to me. I expected the only talk about bedtime to be who had to go to bed the earliest, and who the lucky ones were who got to stay up. I said as much, and my mom laughed loud enough that Gavin turned his head toward the kitchen. I made a face at him, and he looked away again, eyes still open. At least he was tired enough that he hadn’t demanded to talk to his grandmother, as he usually did.
“Kids will talk about anything, especially what you don’t want them to,” she said. “And you know this is all your fault. No one ever said you had to be a single parent.”
Augh. Not this again. Not from her on top of the kids and Matt.
“Matt asked for kids, not a wife.”
“But you must have cared for him to agree to spend all that time and money. Why not marry him?”
I shrugged, uncomfortably. Matt and I had both known our relationship wasn’t working. We were good friends, but that was as far as it went. Our dates were full of tension as if we were trying to impress someone we’d never seen before, and it was destroying our friendship. And there was his avoidance of my magic.
“It wouldn’t work.”
“That’s your answer to everything. Marriage wouldn’t work. A business career wouldn’t work. Since you left college, you’ve never even tried!” She paused. “In fact, I think you gave up before you even graduated. Your heart wasn’t in your little speech for the honors society.”
My “little speech.” I flashed back, seeing the room around me, filled with fellow graduates as well as younger students who were looking for inspiration. In the back of the room stood parents, mine and others’, and I gripped the lectern and prepared to speak. I knew who I was, what I wanted, where I would go. I was going to set the world on fire.
At that moment, I could see it, clear as day — the world literally in flames, fired by my rage, and me soaring above it, flying with magic though still human, or at least mostly so, cackling madly, ready to destroy it all. I would show the world! Lightning crackled around me and through me, echoing to my very marrow.
Someone else might have passed it off as an idle daydream, a what-if of epic proportions. But I could feel the echoes of that magical lightning in me, flickering in fury, and I knew that if I reached for power, that was where I was going to end up.
So I delivered my prepared speech like an automaton, not believing or caring in one word I had to say. I could see the disappointment on the other students’ faces, but it paled next to the anger on my mom’s. That only sealed my decision; the imprint of that anger in my soul was why I had to stop reaching for anything.
But Mom was born with the equanimity of a mountaintop guru and the ambition of a Fortune 500 CEO. She wouldn’t understand my fear that the anger would take everything over, and as for it being tied to my magic — her magic was a rivulet of snowmelt that she never even dipped a toe in. I was pretty sure she knew it was there, but she didn’t live with it the same way I did.
I knew then that I couldn’t explain it to her, and I knew it now.
/>
“Just … forget it. I never should have called. I was feeling like I sucked as a parent and owed Dad an apology, and instead I found out that I suck as both a parent and a child. Thanks for everything, Mom.”
I hung up. Maybe it was just being tired. Maybe it was the hollow spot inside of me where I usually felt my magic. Right now, I felt all alone in the world. This had been a real Monday of Mondays. If I walked away from everything, would anyone even notice?
Chapter 16
I didn’t feel as drained come morning, but I could barely feel my magic singing through the wires in the building around me. I was going through the motions at work. Fortunately, Rich’s order of the cinnamon chip apple scones had come in, and we sold two trays of them in less than half an hour. I thought about putting out more, but since Rich had ordered them, he should have at least one tray’s worth to sell on his shift.
The phone rang in the middle of morning rush. All I could think was it had better not be someone trying to call and reserve some special order, although that actually would have been better. It was the contractor who had been too busy to talk to me yesterday.
“Got your message yesterday,” the gruff voice on the other end of the phone said. “I don’t understand it.”
“My boss gave you a deposit months ago. We have the canceled check, so we know you received the payment. We want to know when you’re going to start work. That’s simple enough.”
“It’s like I told your boss weeks ago — we need to have all the permits and licenses first. And she hasn’t applied for them, so my hands are tied.”
“Permits? For painting?”
“Look, lady, I suggest you look at the paperwork and get everything in order. Then you can call me. And until we see the permits, we’re not showing up.”
I hung up and rubbed my forehead. What had Kendall asked for? I couldn’t look over the paperwork right now, but I was pretty sure it was just supposed to be a simple paint job to freshen up the coffee shop’s look. I’d look later and fax him a copy of the work order if necessary to straighten things out.
It was hours before I could get back to the office, though. Morning rush never really stopped, and then Rich’s new hire showed up — “Call me Freddy” — ready to fill in W-4s, watch orientation videos, and whatever else he needed to do before starting work in the evening.
“Couldn’t you have done this when you show up for your shift?”
He shrugged. “Rich told me to take care of it earlier so I could get right to work, and he’s the boss, you know?”
This wasn’t the time to discuss hierarchy. With luck, Kendall would decide Rich was doing a better job than I was — especially if I couldn’t get the painters to cooperate — and he would be the boss for everyone, not just the one in charge of the closing shift. So if Freddy wanted to assume Rich was in charge, I was okay with that. I settled him in with the videos and grabbed the information folder from Kendall’s desk on my way back up front, in case I got a chance to look at it.
In snatches throughout the day, I managed to look over the papers in Kendall’s folder. Sure enough, all the initial notes referred to painting, talking about textures, colors, and how much access they needed during the hours the coffee shop was open. The quote from the contractor, however, was a different story. In addition to the paint, it mentioned a new seating area on the back wall with bar stools and a power strip for people to charge their phones and laptops, plus a remodel of the front counter area to match the new theme. That would require permits from the city, especially for the rewiring necessary.
Behind that, there was a photocopy of a note and check from Kendall. “I only want the painting. We can discuss the other work later. Here’s the deposit.”
The terse letter from the contractor basically said “Screw you.” Okay, it wasn’t that blunt, as it was written in business bland, but it definitely indicated that they thought they were in control, not Kendall. “We have accepted your deposit for the work indicated on our estimate. Please inform us when the permits are ready so we can commence work on the remodel, which is necessary before cosmetic work such as painting is done.”
No wonder Kendall wanted to shove this mess off onto someone else.
The next time I had a moment to breathe, I ran a search on the company to see whether it had pulled this sort of fast one before. Sure enough, the Better Business Bureau had a list of complaints longer than I had time to go through. I noticed that a couple people said even after they had gotten the required permits, only part of the work was done, generally just the painting. It amazed me that the company stayed in business, but the few suits that had been filed against them had been withdrawn by the plaintiffs.
Great. So the company was “connected,” which meant if we were going to get out of this, we had to make them drop it.
Fine. I’d hex them — probably after I got home, since I wouldn’t have time to do it before that. I might even have the energy for it by then. This company was way past due for some retribution in kind. Of course, that didn’t solve my problem of what to do about getting the coffee shop painted. I might have to find someone else to do it — someone with a better reputation — though how I was going to convince Kendall to spend more money on this project, I didn’t know.
We were still busy when Rich came in half an hour before I got off. I waved at him as he headed to the back, but otherwise kept my attention on the influx of customers — a group taking a break from visiting family at Tufts, from their conversation.
He came back up front less than a minute later. “Why the hell do you have Fred watching training videos?”
I spared him a glance. “Because new hires have to watch them?”
“Which is why I was going to have him do that this evening. When he’s actually supposed to be working. He has to be on the clock to watch them, which means he can’t be here all the way until close.”
I had helped Freddy to clock in after the paperwork was done for just that reason — no one wanted to get in trouble for having people work off the clock. The other part hadn’t even occurred to me. I turned to face Rich head-on, upset that he was blaming me for not reading his mind.
“Then why did you tell him to show up to take care of paperwork and other orientation issues?”
“I just told him to do the paperwork.”
“You didn’t leave a note saying if he showed up, that was all that was supposed to be done for a new hire today. I just followed protocol.”
“Protocol be damned! You should have thought about it!”
A grouchy voice cut into our argument. “I’m still waiting for my large iced coffee. If you’re too busy, I can go somewhere else.”
I narrowed my eyes at Rich for a couple of seconds, then turned back to the customers with a forced smile. “I’m sorry about that. It’ll be right up.”
Rich stood there and stared at the back of my head while I dealt with the customers. Even though he was technically working, he didn’t lift a hand to so much as pick up a stack of to-go cups that he knocked over. For the first time, I realized that maybe I didn’t want him to get the manager position. Easy-going Rich had an autocratic streak — who would have guessed?
To be fair, that might make him an effective manager for Kendall; it just wouldn’t make him very pleasant to work as a subordinate for. Especially if he expected me to read his mind. And Kendall might agree with him that my actions seemed like deliberate sabotage, perhaps because I was having such difficulty with the painters. He’d already gotten both his test tasks accomplished, but I was struggling with mine.
My shoulders slumped. I was probably looking at years of him thinking I was out to get him — and get his job, too, if he did get the position.
The crowd thinned a few minutes before I was due to clock out. At least that made hand-off easier. I started counting the register.
Focused on the money, I didn’t glance up when the door opened for customers entering or leaving. Rich could keep an eye on them. I kept
counting, pausing only when a small shock zapped my fingers as I reached for the quarters.
“Can I help you?” Rich asked from behind me.
“No, thanks. I’m just here to meet Pepper.”
Heat flooded my face, and I looked up into Haris’s eyes. I found my voice. “I’ll be just a few minutes more.”
He nodded but didn’t sit down to wait. I tried to ignore his gaze on me as I started over again counting the coins and adding them to my tally.
That shock was all the warning I’d had of his presence — no heat surging inside of me, no showers of sparks, no certain knowledge of exactly how far away he was. Was he keeping himself in check, or was this just because I was still so drained from yesterday’s exertions?
I dropped the banker’s bag in the office safe and headed to the back room to grab my purse and the garment bag with Maggie’s dress, then clock out. I waved to Freddy while I was back there — he was staring at his phone. Rich had probably made him clock out again to make sure the times worked out.
Haris still hadn’t moved when I returned to the front. He nodded once to Rich and turned to walk next to me, holding the door open for me.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he murmured. “I could hear the hum miles away. But you feel empty.”
Was the magic hum, the safe haven I’d created, the reason that we’d been so busy today? Something more to think about later; I didn’t want to use my magic to mess with people accidentally. Not even if it was a positive effect.
“Sensing the magic is more than I could do,” I admitted. “I drained myself setting that up, and then dealing with the ghost didn’t help.”
He stopped. “You dealt with the ghost again?”
“Hopefully, the last time for this ghost.” I shuddered and gave him a brief description of what I’d done and what it had felt like. And told him that there were definitely other ghosts out there.
He frowned. “You should not be able to interact with someone else’s patron like that. Tell me again what it was like.”
Ghost Garages_A Boston Technowitch Novel Page 11