“I’ve been thinking about getting Pop a dog,” Jake said. “He could use someone else around the house, you know?”
“Having seen how it’s helped Mom, I’d say that’s a great idea.” She was about to say something else when Jake lifted a hand to stop her.
“I know what you’re doing, trying to keep the conversation going in every other direction. But we have to talk about it, Vivien.”
She sighed and slumped a little against the back of the booth as their salads arrived. “I know. It’s just so difficult to acknowledge there’s a real ghost haunting my theater. But I don’t have any other explanation—”
He was chuckling, shaking his head with a weird expression. “I meant we needed to talk about the fact that someone is trying to sabotage you. Not…the other.” He looked a little pained.
“Oh, I see. You don’t want to admit there’s supernatural activity involved,” she said, conveniently putting aside her own reluctance to talk about it. Because, obviously, it was time. “But what else can it be? We literally rolled the scaffolding out from the back room—it was unattached, freestanding—there were no wires on it, nothing that could have caused it to shake and shimmy like that—”
“The whole stage floor was shaking, Viv—that’s why it felt like the scaffolding was moving.”
“And how on earth did someone make that happen? That would have taken some serious machinery. And what about the rattling light cans and shaking flies—and the sudden, intense cold? And the smell?” She shook her head. “No way that was manufactured—at least by anyone human. It was too instantaneous, too intense, and too…whatever. Creepy.”
He looked down into the bowl of his wine glass as he swirled its dark red contents.
“Are you saying you don’t believe in ghosts? In the afterlife? In spirits?” she asked.
Great. He must’ve thought she was nuts when they were together and she talked about feeling Liv’s presence nearby, or even talking to her. Ugh. No wonder things hadn’t worked out.
“I’m not saying that at all.” He looked up, his eyes hooded. “Look, I’ve been around death enough to have experiences…that, uh, indicate that… Well, there’s a lot going on we might not understand.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ve never experienced anything before like what happened at the theater, but when people die, there’s often…things that happen.”
“Like what?”
“Well, once there was a patient—when I was on a hospice rotation—who was telling me about how she was going to stay with her sister Anne, and how excited she was about going on the ‘journey’—she used that word. She said Anne had just stopped by and told her to get ready for the trip, and that she’d be back for her soon…and it turned out her sister Anne had been dead for five years. But this patient had carried on an entire conversation with her that was overhead by one of the nurses. Obviously, Anne was there to, uh, guide my patient to the afterlife or whatever.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to dismiss the idea of ghosts. I just have never experienced them before. Myself.”
Vivien tilted her head a little and looked at him intently. “Your mom never visited you after she died? You never, you know, felt her or anything?”
He shook his head. “No. I guess…I guess some people are maybe just more susceptible or open to supernatural happenings.”
“Well, susceptible or not, you and I experienced supernatural happenings today, and, let’s be honest, the other night when we opened that trunk in the pit and it got all cold and frosty all of a sudden.”
“I can’t deny it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he said.
“Right. But do you remember what you were saying when all that frenzy whipped up?” she said, giving him a crafty smile.
“Not really,” he said, but she could tell he was hedging.
“You were saying that someone was messing around with me, trying to make me think there was a spirit or phantom haunting the place, but that it was all a fake—and then suddenly, all hell broke loose. Pretty sure that wasn’t just coincidence. It was the ghost’s way of saying, ‘Not so fast, buddy.’” She sipped her drink and eyed Jake as he struggled with that tidbit of information.
It was cute watching the methodical, logical man who dealt in life and death all the time try to come to grips with the fact that there were, in fact, spirits and ghosts and metaphysical layers to their world.
“Hmm” was all he said, and then was rescued, so to speak, when their dinner arrived.
“Oh…wow,” Vivien said as she sampled her lasagne Bolognese a moment later. “This is heavenly. I haven’t had a meal this good since I left New York. How’s yours?”
He’d ordered grilled branzino with sides of pasta aglio olio and green beans. “Pretty good. Not that I expected anything less. Pop knows where to get his Italian food.”
“I hope the osso bucco is up to snuff,” she said.
“If this is any indication, I’d say it will be. Vivien, I’m worried about you.”
She paused with a bite of lasagne halfway to her mouth. “Because of the break-ins at the theater? Or because of the ghost?”
“Because someone wants to hurt you—if not physically, then at least financially. I know Captain Longbow and Helga are working their angles, following up on their leads, but that doesn’t make me worry less.”
“I appreciate that. I’ve been thinking about this logically—pretty much nonstop. The bottom line is, someone doesn’t want the theater to open, either because it’s me or because they just don’t want the theater to open. I can’t think of any reason why either would be true—wouldn’t anyone who lives in Wicks Hollow want another successful business to keep the economy of the place going? And have what was sort of an eyesore become a viable business? And I really can’t think of any reason someone from high school would hate me so much that they’d do all these things.”
He twirled the wine glass stem between his fingers. “Is there any chance Roger Hatchard or his son are involved? Or Michael Wold or—who’s the actress? Oh, Penny someone.”
“Penny Stern, and absolutely none. None of them are even in Wicks Hollow—and aren’t scheduled to be here until the last week in August. Roger is doing this as a favor to me—”
“As a favor to his son’s girlfriend, you mean.”
Ah. So that was where this was going. “Daniel and I weren’t serious at all. I haven’t talked to him for over a week. It’s not him or Roger, Jake—it’s just not.”
He shrugged. “All right.” He relaxed a little. “But the fact remains, someone’s out to get you. First it was just scary things, then it was your car. I’m worried you might be next, VL.”
Her insides squiggled a little. She’d been trying not to think about that obvious escalation. “I’m best friends with a cop—everyone in town knows that. Plus, you saw my place—it’s practically on top of the neighbors on all sides. Everything that’s happened so far has been at the theater, so I’m inclined to think it’s going to stay focused there. But,” she added, “Helga offered Butch to me, and maybe I’ll take her up on having him stay the night.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said reluctantly. “But—and I’m just going to put this out there—you don’t have to stay alone. If you’re nervous about being alone at night.”
“I’m not, but it might be a good idea to bunk somewhere else for a night or two,” she said, feeling a mischievous grin twitch her lips. “Does your dad have an extra bed at his house?”
“What?” His eyes went wide, then he laughed. “Oh, he’d love that.”
She laughed too. “I was only joking—unless you think it would be good for him to have someone there when he gets home from the hospital. Anyway, I’m not worried about staying alone—especially if I can have Butch.”
“Well, at least put my cell number in your phone. Just in case,” he said.
“I already have your number—I mean, I still have it from NYU…unless you changed it.”
Vivien had nearly deleted it a hund
red times over the years, but something had always kept her from doing so. She’d told herself it was because she wanted to know if the lying, cheating dickwad ever tried to contact her again—just so she could have the pleasure of ignoring him.
He looked surprised, but he made no comment. “It’s the same. I, uh, Helga gave me yours—for when I was picking you up this morning,” he added lamely.
The server brought their bill just then, along with the to-go order, and Jake swiped up the tab before Vivien even had a chance to take a look at it. “My treat,” he said.
“Jake—”
“Pop insisted. Argue with him, all right?”
When they walked out to his car, Jake paused as he opened the passenger door for her. He had a contemplative look on his face. “You never did tell me what song you were singing in my shower yesterday.”
He was standing very close to her, and Vivien’s heart gave a traitorous thump. God, he was so dark and sexy with all that thick hair blowing in the light breeze and his intense eyes and that amazing mouth she’d been trying not to notice all night…but it was definitely the negroni that was making her head feel light and the rest of her all warm and sizzling and not him. It couldn’t be him.
She gave him a saucy look. “I was singing ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair.’ Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he murmured, and she recognized the look in his eyes a heartbeat before he moved in.
His hands, warm and callused, cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. His hips bumped against hers, pinning her lightly against the car as he eased closer, holding her gaze. “But did it work?” he whispered, his breath warm against her mouth. He gently nibbled the top of her parted lips, sliding his tongue lightly along the sensitive underside. “Let’s find out.”
Vivien shivered as she stepped into the kiss and met his mouth—an event that was both wildly, terribly familiar and at the same time new and different.
And hot.
So hot.
He still tasted like Jake, with an underscore of wine and coffee—and he felt the same against her, felt right and comfortable, and yet there were so many things that weren’t the same, because it had been so long and they were so different…and there was so much that had happened since then.
“I think I need stronger shampoo,” she murmured against his mouth when he eased away to catch his breath. “Industrial strength.”
His smile brushed her lips, then he kissed her gently at the corner of her mouth. “Won’t work,” he said, then, sliding his hands down along her arms, he stepped back. His gaze was shadowed as he looked down at her, but his words were firm and clear: “I’ve never stopped loving you, VL. No shampoo is going to change that.”
And, having dropped that megaton bomb, he walked around to the other side of the car and got in.
Chapter Sixteen
Vivien was quiet on the ride back to Wicks Hollow. She was still tingling from that volcanic kiss, and still reeling from his gigantic pronouncement.
How could that be?
And what was she supposed to do about it?
In an effort to not think about yet another upset in her life, she spent some of the drive scrolling through the emails and messages on her tablet, responding to clients. The trendy fashion company GetBack Togs had green-lit the proposal for Louise London’s social media posts, and so that project would soon be in full swing, and that meant a nice little payday for Vivien (and a much bigger one for Louise) in a few months.
She tried not to think about the man sitting next to her, whose strong, capable hands managed the drive while he spoke to his sisters again via speaker in the car. The siblings apparently needed one last assurance that their father was going to be all right overnight (although Mathilda seemed put out that Jake wasn’t going to stay at the hospital with him).
Instead of stewing over the way Jake had felt and tasted, plastered up against her—and what he’d said—she found it easier to mull over the few minutes when she and Ricky DeRiccio had been alone in the hospital room. Jake had stepped out, ostensibly to take a call on his cell, but she suspected he wanted a few private words with the attending physician and the nurse on the floor.
“Bring that chair closer,” Mr. DeRiccio had ordered Vivien. “I got something I wanna ask you, and I don’t need the whole floor to hear it.”
The chair legs scraped over the floor as she drew closer to him. The welts from his bee stings had subsided significantly and now just looked like a splattering of zits. Having eaten his fill of osso bucco, polenta, and cannoli, he looked—as Gran would say—fat and happy, despite the IV needle and blood-pressure cuff that were still attached.
“You were going with Elwood back in New York, right?” he said, taking her completely by surprise.
“Yes. We knew each other about ten, eleven years ago.” She kept it vague, not certain what Jake had told his father—and what Jake wanted him to know.
He nodded wisely. “That’s what I thought. Took me too long to put it together—getting a little foggy in my brain. You messed up my boy but good, you know. Back then.”
The lingering pleasure from her dinner and the time spent with Jake—and the kiss—disintegrated. “I didn’t—”
“I didn’t notice it, but my Margaret did. She always had a better sense of the kids than I do. Now, Elwood, he wouldn’t talk about it much, but she was worried about him for a while there, with him moving all the way to Raleigh and all.”
“I’m—”
“Now, if you keep trying to interrupt me, he’s gonna come back before I get to my point here. Don’t know how long it takes to lecture up a doctor, but I guess my boy will take his time, do it right.” He grinned under his mustache. “Still, we ain’t got all night.”
Vivien nodded, trying to ignore the block of stone that had settled in her middle.
“All right, then.” He seemed pleased with her silence. “You had the sister, the twin, didn’t you? The one who died?”
Again, he surprised her. She nodded, uncertain whether answering his question was permitted at this time or whether she was still required to remain silent a little longer so he could get to his point.
He started to speak, then hesitated, looking nervously toward the door. Mystified, she nevertheless remained quiet and waited for him to go on. He shifted awkwardly in the bed, fumbling with the controller that raised and lowered the mattress, and finally got himself positioned a little more upright—a little closer to her.
Vivien leaned nearer as well and didn’t expect it when he gripped her hand with callused, gnarled fingers. “I gotta question for you.” His voice was very low, hardly audible over the sounds of the machines beeping and humming in the room. “Do you ever… Does she ever…well…visit you? Your sister?”
Vivien heaved a mental sigh of relief. “Yes.” She looked at him and saw hope and anxiety in his eyes, and she understood what he was really asking. “We talk, you know? I know she’s there. Sometimes I feel her—her name was Liv—touching me on my arm. It’s always my left arm, because she always stood on that side of me. It was a habit from when we were little because it was easier to tell us apart if we were always on the same side of each other.” The hair prickled a little on her left arm just then, and she rubbed it gently. Thanks, Liv.
His fingers loosened a little on her hand. “Good.” He was about to say something else, but the door to the room opened and Jake came in.
He gave Vivien a curious look then said, “Well, Pop, I’ve given them all the instructions. They’re going to wait to give you the shots till after we leave—much as I love you, I don’t need to see your hairy white ass—and they promise to be gentle when they jam the catheter in. Sound all right?”
His father rolled his eyes and chased them out of the room as well as he could, being in bed and wired up, as he put it.
“I’ll be back tomorrow in the morning. First thing,” Jake promised. “Don’t bug the nurses too much, all right? I told them they could kn
ock you out if you were too demanding. All right? I love you, Pop.”
Vivien was still chuckling when they climbed into the car for the ride back, and when they got to the outskirts of Wicks Hollow, it was after eight o’clock.
The sky glowed in a showy blaze of magenta, crimson, and gold just above the horizon line, and its reflection shimmered with every movement of the lake below. Beyond the splashes of breathtaking color, the sky was still pale blue. But Vivien knew that as soon as the sun began to dip below the edge of the world, darkness would come quickly and everything would phase into dark blues and dusky purples, and end with the inky black of night.
“I’m really sorry to keep you from your work all day,” Jake said, obviously noticing she was looking at messages on her tablet. “I so appreciate you going with me. And I think Pop liked having you there too.”
“He’s pretty sweet,” she said.
“I told him you thought he was adorable. Pretty sure he’s got a serious crush on you.” Jake smiled in the dim light—a flash of teeth and the shadow of a dimple.
“The feeling’s mutual. I think he misses your mom a lot. Getting him a dog is a really good idea.”
He shot her a quick look. “You talked to him about her?”
“Sort of. Anyway, I can tell he really appreciates having you nearby, but I think a dog would give him something else to do besides poke at bees’ nests.”
“He and Doug Horner are supposed to go golfing next week—that’s who called the ambulance today. Dr. Horner was dropping off some golf clubs and found Pop in not-so-good shape. I can ask him if he knows of an older dog in need of adoption that would be good for my dad.”
“Good idea. Oh, wow, I just got a text from Helga. It says, ‘Volt or Elantra.’ I guess that means Baxter has narrowed down the brake lights of the car you saw last night.”
Jake nodded. “That’s good. Sounds like she and Joe Cap are on it.”
Sinister Stage: A Ghost Story Romance and Mystery (Wicks Hollow Book 5) Page 19