Page 26 of Haunted Ever After

“He’ll be by tomorrow. That okay?”

“That’s great. Thanks.”

He waved a hand. “All good. So. Lunch?”

“Are you sure? You’re about to close, right?” But her stomach growled in response. God, she was starving.

“Eh.” He seemed unconcerned. “Technically. But you need to power up, and I have lots of stuff to do around here after I close anyway. I can hang.”

“In that case…” She tore her eyes away from Nick long enough to scan the menu board overhead. “I hear the chicken salad is pretty great. I’ll try that.”

Turned out, eating a chicken salad sandwich at the back table at Hallowed Grounds was the exact amount of time it took for her laptop to charge up.

“I guess it’s official,” she said with a sigh as she brought her empty plate up to the counter. “I have to hang out here if I’m going to get any work done.”

“Damn. That’s too bad.” Nick didn’t put a lot of effort into trying to look sorrowful, which Cassie appreciated. He took her plate and passed her an iced latte. She knew before the first sip that it would have the perfect amount of hazelnut flavoring in it.

She gave a happy sigh. There was nothing like midafternoon caffeine. It was like flirting with the devil: perfect right now, but there would be hell to pay later tonight, when she was trying to fall asleep. But that was Future Cassie’s problem. Other things that were Future Cassie’s problem: (1) her laptop, which would only have a few hours of battery when she took it home, thanks to (2) the ghost in her house. Probably.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything on your bulletin board that’ll help me with the whole…” She waved a hand back in the direction of her house. “With all that?”

The question hadn’t been particularly serious, but Nick’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Libby.”

Cassie blinked. “Who’s Libby?”

Nick dried his hands on a nearby towel, then strode with a purpose to the corkboard by the front door; this was a man who knew exactly what he was looking for. On the little table in front of the corkboard, among the tourist maps and brochures, was a stack of business cards, and he plucked one from the pile. “Here you go.”

“Simpson Investigations?” She tilted her head as she examined the card. Simple, like Buster’s had been, but this one had a little ghost motif on it. “Like a private eye?”

“Like a ghost hunter.” He tapped the card. “Nan’s about a hundred and fifty, but she’s the best.”

“I thought you said her name was Libby?” She squinted down at the card. There wasn’t a first name on it.

“Libby’s her granddaughter. She helps out, but it’s really Nan’s thing. Remember what Sophie said about the Founding Fifteen? All of us descendants have the whole…” It was his turn to wave his hand vaguely. “Ability to communicate with the dead. But it’s in varying degrees, like a recessive gene or something.”

“Like red hair?”

“Exactly. In this case, I’m the redhead in the family. My parents didn’t inherit any kind of ability, and neither did my sister. I was honestly surprised when Elmer got in touch.” He thought about that. “I was surprised for more than one reason, anyway.”

“I can’t even imagine.” But she could, couldn’t she? Was getting a text message out of the blue from a ghost much different than the magnetic poetry message that had happened to her?

“Anyway,” Nick said, “Nan has that gene in spades. If it’s still hanging around, she can talk to it.”

“This town has a ghost hunter.” This was the kind of thing she was still having a hard time getting accepting.

“This town has a ghost everything.” One corner of his mouth kicked up, and why not. There was humor in this, of course there was. Cassie just wasn’t there yet.

“Thanks. I’ll give her a call. Maybe she can tell Mrs. Hawkins to pound sand.”

“Their office is down the street. Past The Haunt, make a left, then a couple blocks inland. I gotta warn you, though.”

“What now?” Cassie braced herself for the next shock. “Is Nan really a ghost? Is Libby?”

Nick’s laugh diffused her tension. “Nothing like that. More like…spirits don’t move on from here, typically. They like to hang out.”

Crap. She was afraid of that. People in this town didn’t seem eager to expel their ghosts. It was all very kumbaya around here. “Well, maybe Nan can help Mean Mrs. Hawkins and me come to an agreement. Like I acknowledge that she exists, and she understands that she needs to leave me the hell alone.” She stuck the card in her pocket and took another pull of her coffee.

“That’s the spirit…I mean…You know what I mean.” Nick stopped short, realizing what he said.

---