Page 25 of Haunted Ever After

He allowed himself a quiet smile as his plan took solid shape in his head, then he turned back to the kitchen. “Still waiting on that chicken Caesar salad, Ramon!” He raised a hand in acknowledgment to the guy in the baseball cap by the window who looked more like a cheeseburger guy than a chicken Caesar salad guy, but what did Nick know? Tourists were weird.

Twelve

While things did indeed look brighter after sleeping in her own bed and not on the porch, Cassie felt antsy all weekend. The magnetic poetry had stayed put since Friday night, but she still considered the fridge off-limits. Thankfully Poltergeist Pizza offered icy sodas along with their pies, and since she’d called them on a night when they actually delivered, she decided to treat herself. There was nothing wrong with eating on the front porch of her home, as far from the kitchen as she could get. Nothing at all.

But being afraid of your own house was, frankly, boring. So, even though the house didn’t seem to want her there, Cassie was determined to broker a peace. If there was one thing Cassie was, it was persuasive. She’d never met an unpleasant client she couldn’t win over; the same had to be true of haunted houses.

Because, house aside, there was a lot to like about this town. Someone had dropped by from the chamber of commerce down the street with a welcome basket—a sampling of goods from the downtown shops, like a loaf of sourdough from the bakery and a pound of coffee from a place called Spooky Brew. She was on waving-to-each-other terms with the lady who lived in the house across the street, and the produce guy at the market already knew she liked her bananas on the green side. Small-town living had its own charm, as long as she didn’t think too hard about the whole haunted part of things.

On Monday morning, she opened her charged-up laptop—how had Nick done that? That remained a mystery—and worked from her dining table, in full view of the fridge. Exposure therapy, as she’d said. And it sort of worked; by Tuesday afternoon she had almost convinced herself that she’d put those words in the middle of the fridge. Not Mean Mrs. Hawkins. my house. Cassie’s house, those words said.

She almost believed it.

By Wednesday morning she’d developed a backache, because as cute as her dining table was, those chairs were the furthest thing from ergonomic. So she took a risk: she unplugged her laptop and took it with her to the couch. The pillows felt great against her over-thirty back, but the risk didn’t pay off: by early afternoon her laptop was at less than five percent battery, fading to black right before she could hit Save. And plugging it in? Did nothing. Of course.

Cassie was pissed. But as she packed the computer in her laptop bag and grabbed her keys, she couldn’t be too upset. It was an excuse to go down to Hallowed Grounds, and she’d been looking for one of those all week. Sure, Nick had texted once or twice this week to check on her, and she’d texted back, but she wasn’t sure where she really stood with him. Not since her all-nighter on the porch.

It had been awkward, breaking down in front of Nick like that on Saturday morning. Especially after how close she’d felt to him the night before, how comfortable he made her feel. There was a part of her that yearned for him; she’d replay their first kiss, their subsequent kisses, and she’d feel her body moving toward him as though he were right there in front of her. But another part of her wanted to lean back, away from this town and its haunted houses and haunted beaches and haunted whatever-the-hell else. All week, that combination of swaying forward and leaning back had kept her right here, in this house that may or may not hate her, and away from her favorite bearded barista.

But not anymore. Sure, the mystery of her constantly dying laptop was annoying, but it gave her the excuse to see Nick again. Maybe when she was right in front of him, she could figure out once and for all which direction she needed to sway.

She hadn’t paid attention to the time, only dimly remembering that she’d worked through lunch, feverishly trying to finish a press release with one eye on her laptop’s rapidly draining battery level. She walked through the door of Hallowed Grounds a little after one thirty, and her heart sank. The place closed in less than half an hour; her laptop would never charge in that amount of time. And Nick would be wanting to close up soon. Dammit.

The place was all but deserted. The last lunchtime customer had just left, and Nick was clearing off the table by the window, his arms loaded down with plates and glasses. His face darkened as the bell above the door rang, not looking up from his task. He didn’t look angry per se, but he had the expression of someone whose day was ending soon, and he couldn’t wait. Cassie felt a full-body cringe coming on; her timing was terrible.

But his face lit up when he saw her, chasing away all of her fears. What had she been thinking, staying away all this time? “Hey, it’s you!” He dumped the plates on the counter behind him.

“Live and in person.”

“I have to say…” Nick put his hands on his hips and cocked his head, taking her in. “You look much better than you did over the weekend.”

Cassie snorted a laugh. “That’s not really saying much, is it?”

“Things going better with Mrs. H then?” He moved back to the table he’d just cleared, wiping it down with a damp rag.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.” She got out her computer cord. “Laptop’s dead again.”

“Are you kidding?” He tossed the rag onto the table and glared up at her. Well, not at her. Hopefully. “Wasn’t it charging when I was there?”

“Yep.” She popped the p as she hooked things up. “But then I unplugged it and poof. Dead.”

“That’s messed up.”

“Yeah. Maybe Mrs. Hawkins is trying to get me fired. Unemployed people get foreclosed on, you know. This could be her way of getting me to leave.”

“Hmmm. Seems like a long con.”

“She’s a ghost, right? She’s got nothing but time.”

Nick chuckled. “Maybe she thinks you work too much.”

“Or she’s against women in the workforce,” Cassie shot back. Who knew bantering about ghosts could be so much fun?

Nick nodded solemnly, though humor danced in his bright blue eyes. “It was a different time, you know.” He shook his head. “Seriously, though. You want me to call Buster again for you? He must have missed something.”

Cassie didn’t want to bother him. Either of them. But Nick already had his phone out so what could she do but nod?

“Hey, Buster? Nick. Yeah, things are good. You should come by sometime, get some coffee. Elmer misses you.” He listened, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he gathered the stack of plates from the counter. “Yeah. I know. I’ll tell him. Anyway, I was calling about Cassie’s house. You know, the Hawkins place? I know you checked it out but there’s still…” His voice faded as he disappeared into the kitchen, but he was back soon, shoving his phone in his pocket.

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