Page 44 of Haunted Ever After

Nothing except the incredible need for caffeine, and the coffee in her cardboard to-go cup was terrible. She took another sip in an act of optimism. Nope. Still awful. She’d stopped by Spooky Brew—the coffee shop next door to Libby’s office—on the way over here, and now she understood why Libby walked the extra couple of blocks to Hallowed Grounds.

Cassie sternly reminded herself that she didn’t miss Nick, or his excellent coffee. Or his vivid blue eyes, or his smile. Or his hair, that was just long enough to curl along the nape of his neck…

Anyway. Screw Nick. Cassie choked down another sip of coffee and forced her brain back on topic. “I was thinking maybe she meant ‘boyfriend’? A man that’s closer than a friend? But ‘love’ and ‘lover’ are right there on the fridge, so I’d think she would have used one of those instead.”

“That would make more sense.” Libby tapped a pencil against her bottom lip, thinking. “Maybe she meant family? Family is closer than a friend. A man who’s closer than a friend, like a brother or cousin or something.”

Cassie hadn’t considered that; she’d been so stuck on the boyfriend angle. She tried to visualize the words on the fridge—were there any terms for family? She couldn’t think of any. Libby may be onto something. She added that to her mental list of custom words to order.

“Well, besides that…” Cassie dug in her bag. “I spent the morning doing some research. Property records were a bust; her name doesn’t appear anywhere. But she died in the forties, and online searches don’t go back that far. Maybe I could go down to the county courthouse? See if there’s anything there?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Libby’s voice was doubtful. “I’m not sure how helpful it’ll be.”

“I looked up census records too.” Had Cassie done any actual work this morning? No. No, she had not. She’d already resigned herself to catching up on projects later tonight. But this whole thing with Sarah and the house itched in her brain too hard to let it go.

“Oooh. Gimme.” Libby stretched out her hands. “Census records are a good start. We do a little genealogy research sometimes, so I could probably do some more digging if it helps.”

“That’s the 1910 census.” Cassie handed it over. “It’s got Charles and Sarah living there. And that pointed me to their marriage record.” She handed that over too.

“Oh, good. Because from there you can…” Libby looked from one document to the other with a frown. “Crap. Never mind.”

“Never mind? Never mind what?”

Libby handed the papers back to Cassie with an apologetic look. “Sarah’s maiden name is Blankenship. That’s not one of the Founding Fifteen. And neither is Hawkins, but we already knew that; Charles came to town a little after 1900.”

“Which means?”

“Which means that Sarah must have moved here after the Great Storm. If you research any further back you’re leaving Boneyard Key…”

“Which isn’t helpful.” Cassie looked at the papers with a scowl before shoving them back in her bag. “So a dead end, then.” She really noticed how many idioms were morbidly themed now that she lived in a haunted town. “I don’t suppose your grandmother can come out to the house again? See if Sarah can give her something a little more useful than her preference of wallpaper?”

Libby shook her head as she reached for her cup of coffee. Hers was in a to-go cup from Hallowed Grounds, and Cassie was insanely jealous. But she forced herself to pay attention. “It doesn’t work that way. Nan’s never able to get more than one visitation from a spirit. It’s like a recording just for her, and that’s it.”

Cassie took a swig of her own coffee; maybe it would taste better once it had cooled off? Nope: lukewarm dirt. “What about you? Maybe you can give it a shot?”

“Me?” A laugh bubbled out of Libby and she shook her head. “That whole ‘talking to the dead’ gene that the Founding Fifteen have totally skipped me. Skipped my dad too. We think Nan got the last of it, and now the ability in our family is all used up.”

Cassie clucked her tongue in sympathy. “That sucks.”

“It’s okay. That’s why I’m the office manager.” There was something slightly brittle about her cheerful expression. “I’m able to make myself plenty useful.”

“I’m sure.” Cassie turned her to-go coffee cup around and around in her hands. It was still half-full; she didn’t want to pitch it in Libby’s empty wastebasket. She’d have to carry it home with her and dump it there.

“You know what you need…” Libby picked up her pencil again, twirling it in her fingers before tapping the eraser end on her desk. “You need someone that was around when Sarah was alive.”

If that were said in any other town, it would be a joke. Hilarious. Yeah, let me just find the nearest centenarian and see what they can tell me. Florida was full of old people, but that was pushing it.

But of course, this was Boneyard Key. All she needed to find was a ghost that was easy to communicate with that had been alive back then. Cassie’s gaze drifted to Libby’s Hallowed Grounds cup as a terrible idea began to form. This was probably a mistake, but what the hell. At least she’d get a decent cup of coffee.

Twenty

Nick’s days and nights had started to bleed together in a way they had never done before Cassie moved to town. He could call her. In fact he should call her, but then there was that whole “what would he say” thing, which always stumped him. And then a few more days went by, long days at the café becoming long nights alone.

Busy mornings helped. More and more tourists were stopping by in the morning as the summer heated up, and most of the banana bread and muffins had been sold. But like clockwork, he glanced up to the door around ten thirty. Sure, Cassie hadn’t come through that door for a while now, but he couldn’t help it. This late-morning dead time had become Cassie’s time. When she’d breeze in with her perpetually dead laptop and beg for a latte and an outlet.

Ramon had given him shit about it for a couple of days—the record amount of time it had taken for Nick to screw things up with her. But the longer Cassie’s absence went on, the less frequent the jokes became when it was apparent that it was no longer funny. Even Elmer had stopped bringing it up, and Elmer liked bothering Nick about everything. Nick’s life plodded on, and Cassie just became yet another person who didn’t stay in it.

But she hadn’t left yet. Buster’s truck had been in her driveway more often than not, so she was still fixing up her house. He hadn’t lost her for good. The trick is in how you apologize, wasn’t that what Jimmy had said? Nick thought again about those shiny glass buildings on the other side of the causeway, the life Cassie had left behind. An idea dropped fully formed into his head, and he knew. He just knew how he could show her that he knew her. That he listened. That he wasn’t that guy in her kitchen a couple weeks ago.

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