Page 14 of Haunted Ever After

“Guilty,” Sophie said right back, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She moved to Cassie’s table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “I’m Sophie, by the way. Or maybe you knew that already.”

“Cassie.” Her laptop dimmed, then went dark as it put itself to sleep. It felt like a commentary on Cassie’s work ethic, and it was irritating, like an itch in her brain. But making a potential new friend in this town felt more important than work right now.

Sophie leaned in, as though she were about to impart a secret. “So, is there really a ghost? You have to tell me.”

Cassie hadn’t expected that question. Sophie had seemed so authoritative during the tour she’d overheard. Wouldn’t she know? “I was hoping you could tell me. I heard your tour last week—”

“You did?” Sophie’s eyes lit up as she remembered. “That was you up on the balcony, wasn’t it? You scared the crap out of like half the tour!”

Oh, no. Cassie drew in a breath to apologize, but Sophie’s voice trembled with suppressed laughter, and Cassie let out her breath again. “You’re welcome?”

Now Sophie let her laugh out in a giggle and she nodded. “Anytime you want to do that, feel free. It was great!”

Cassie pictured herself lurking in the shadows of her upstairs balcony, waiting to jump out and say boo to the ghost tour every week. She’d certainly done worse things on a Friday night. “The story you told, out in front of the house. Is it true?”

Sophie nodded emphatically. “Oh, yeah. Mean Mrs. Hawkins has her own chapter and everything.” She pulled a book out of her satchel and handed it across the table.

“Her own chapter?” Cassie turned the book over in her hands. Boneyard Key: A Haunted History. It was published by one of those small presses that did histories of towns, books that showed up in every “local history” section of a bookstore. This copy was obviously well loved; the cover was bent, with one corner torn away, and the pages inside were studded with colored Post-it notes. She paged through it, pausing at blurry black-and-white photos of Beachside Drive, a street that was already starting to feel familiar. The silhouette of the buildings was the same, but instead of gift shops and restaurants, the streets were lined with a hardware store and a grocery. Another photo showed that the gray squat building on the road out of town used to be a service station.

“The book’s pretty comprehensive,” Sophie said while Cassie continued to flip pages. “When I started putting this tour together, I found there was more than enough information in here, both about the history of the town and the ghosts. It was written by a local historian about, what, fifty years ago?” She looked over her shoulder to Nick, who leaned against the counter, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. Cassie hadn’t realized he’d been listening in, but he’d obviously been there the whole time. Watching them. A pleased flush crept up the back of her neck, flooding her cheeks.

He snorted in confirmation. “I think calling Mr. Lindsay a ‘local historian’ might be pushing it. He was our history teacher in high school,” he said to Cassie.

“You two went to high school together?” She looked from Nick to Sophie. Sophie looked young, but maybe that was just the way she looked. Cassie wasn’t going to judge.

But Sophie laughed. “Oh, no. Nick’s an old man…”

“Thanks a lot.”

Sophie continued like Nick hadn’t interrupted. “He was a senior when I was a freshman. We only overlapped by a year.”

“If you went to Boneyard Key High in the last forty years or so, you had Mr. Lindsay for history,” Nick said, obviously letting the comment about his age slide. “Our parents all had to buy us a copy of that damn book. We were like a captive supplementary income to that guy.”

Cassie shrugged. “Not a bad gig if you can get it, right?”

Nick huffed out a laugh. “But yeah. The book was old even back then. Fifty years sounds about right.”

Cassie flipped to the copyright page and there it was: the publication date, and confirmation that this book was almost the same age as her parents.

“He was a huge stickler for facts when we were in school,” Sophie said. “He must have researched the heck out of everything while he wrote the book. But as far as the Hawkins House goes, it’s common knowledge around here that it’s haunted. I’ve never seen any actual activity, though. What about you?” She propped her chin on her hands. “Anything weird going on there since you moved in?”

Sophie looked so eager that Cassie hated to disappoint her. But she shook her head slowly as she handed the book back. “Nothing’s gone bump in the night as far as I can tell. Unless ghosts like to mess with the electricity.”

Cassie had been joking, but Sophie’s eyes flew wide. “Oooh, really? Ghosts have been known to affect electricity. That could be something.”

How was Sophie able to talk about ghosts like they were real? Putting on a ghost tour was one thing—that was entertainment. Fiction. This was real life, which didn’t have things like ghosts in it. It had deadlines. Three of them on Monday, in fact. “Then old Mrs. H doesn’t want me to get any work done,” she said. “My laptop won’t charge at home.”

“Hmmm.” Sophie’s brows drew together, wheels obviously turning in her brain. “That doesn’t match up with anything we know about Sarah Hawkins. I wonder why she’d want to disrupt your electricity?”

“Did you mess with her garden?” Nick was behind the counter again, bustling around but obviously still listening in. “Wasn’t that her thing back in the day? Kids picking the roses or something? Wait.” He stopped, turning from the batch of sweet tea he was making. “There isn’t a garden there anymore, is there?”

“No,” Cassie said. “No garden. The sellers put down sod. It’s all lawn now.” Lawn that looked stupid and was a waste of water, by the way. Now she pictured roses growing along the garden gate, and that mental picture was so much nicer.

“Still.” Sophie was determined to stay on topic. “Why would she mess with your electricity? That’s got nothing to do with the garden.”

“No idea. But I have to come here if I want to get any work done.” Cassie gestured to the outlet where her laptop was still plugged in and charging.

“I knew it.” Nick shook his head as he added ice and sugar to the tea he’d just brewed. “You really do only love me for my Wi-Fi.”

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