Page 32 of Haunted Ever After

“Sure is.” There was still a half pot of coffee she’d left on from this morning, so Cassie got a mug from the kitchen and filled it. “The built-in bookcases are original too, according to the seller, but all the rooms were freshly painted before I bought it. The furniture’s mine.” She tried to hand the coffee off, but Nan was still looking at everything like she was going to write a report on the condition of the house. Cassie was stuck standing there holding a cup of coffee like a butler until Nan was ready to take it from her.

“Hmm.” Nan took a long sip of coffee, then looked at the mug with a grimace. “This is old. If I’d known that, I would have just taken a Diet Coke.”

“I’m sorry.” Why was Cassie apologizing? She’d been drinking the coffee all morning; it was fine. But apologizing to grandmas when you disappointed them was what you did. “I’ll make a fresh pot next time you come over.” She’d meant for the words to be sarcastic; when was Nan going to be coming back? Wasn’t this a one-time visit? Or was Nan going to be coming by on a regular basis, making sure her home remained ghost-free? Maybe there was a contract for Cassie to sign for an annual ghost inspection.

“Mmm.” Nan took another sip, so the coffee couldn’t have been that bad. “She misses the cabbage roses.”

Cassie looked at her blankly. “Who? The what?”

“Cabbage roses.” Nan gestured toward the walls with the coffee cup. “The wallpaper that was here before.”

“You were here before they renovated the house?”

Nan shook her head. “Sarah Hawkins died in 1942. Two years before I was born. I’ve never seen anyone live in this house. Never been inside.” She said those last words softly, almost to herself. Then she picked back up the thread of what she was saying. “The wallpaper. Pink cabbage roses on a soft green background. She’d picked it out, put it up herself. It matched the roses she grew outside. She was proud of it. The work she’d done to make this house hers. A home. She doesn’t hate the paint, but she keeps saying over and over that she misses the cabbage roses.”

Cassie’s breath left her body in a whoosh, and she stepped back, groping for the chair she knew was right behind her. It was a race to sit down before her legs gave out. “She?” It was a question she knew the answer to, but it seemed right to ask it.

But as critical as Nan had been about the coffee, she didn’t scoff at the seemingly unnecessary question. “Sarah Hawkins.” Her voice was gentler than Cassie expected.

“She really is here, then.” It was a rhetorical question, but Nan nodded anyway.

“Oh, she’s here. No doubt about it. I clocked a feminine spirit the second I walked in the door. The floors felt like a hug—yes, I know how stupid that sounds. But there’s nothing but love in that old wood, at least as far as she’s concerned. I figured it was original to the house. But when I asked for a message, she kept showing me pink cabbage roses. On the walls. And outside.”

“Wow.” Cassie let her gaze travel over the living room walls, which were painted an inoffensive but boring shade of beige. When she first saw the house, even before putting in an offer, she’d imagined painting it a livelier color. Pink, she realized now with a start. She’d thought of painting the living room either a soft pink or a muted green. The color of the cabbage rose wallpaper that Nan was talking about now.

Damn.

Nan nodded. “She misses those roses something fierce.” She headed now for the kitchen, and Cassie got up to follow. She was about to direct Nan’s attention to the fridge, and the message that lingered there, but Nan saw it immediately.

“Clever. You do that?” She turned to Cassie with raised eyebrows, and Cassie shook her head.

“No. That was what I told Libby about. When I got home Friday night, first it said ‘wrong.’ Then it changed to that.”

“Not the message. That’s obviously from Sarah. I mean the magnets. The words.” She stepped closer to examine the hundreds of little words on the refrigerator.

“Oh. Yeah. Those are mine. Magnetic poetry. I’ve had it for ages. It’s just a thing I have. It’s not like I got it to communicate with…” Cassie couldn’t let herself say the word out loud. It made all of this too real.

But Nan looked impressed. “It’s a great idea, though. Not all spirits can use them, of course. The afterlife is weird, and spirits come through in different ways. But the ones that can make things move…I like it. I’m gonna tell Libby to get some of these.” She thrust her coffee mug back into Cassie’s hands before rummaging in her bag and drawing out a notepad and pen, scribbling down a note. “Magnetic poetry, you called it?”

“Yeah. Glad I could help.” Cassie desperately wanted to bring the conversation back on topic. “So about the, uh, spirit that’s in my house. Sarah Hawkins? How do we get rid of her?”

“Oh.” Nan put the notepad and pen away before turning back to Libby. Her expression was almost sympathetic. “Oh, no, honey. Sarah’s not going anywhere.”

“What?” The word exploded out of Cassie’s throat, much louder than she’d intended. But disappointment was a loud emotion.

Nan didn’t react to her outburst. “Not all spirits need to be gotten rid of.”

“But…” Cassie sputtered. “I thought she was Mean Mrs. Hawkins? Chasing people with sticks and whatnot?”

“I thought so too.” Nan looked around the kitchen with a puzzled expression.

“Then, don’t we want to get rid of that?”

“Typically, yes.” Nan was silent for a moment, concentrating. “But I’m not getting that from her. She’s not mean. I don’t think she ever was. She loves her home. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with letting her stay.”

There’s a lot wrong with it, Cassie wanted to say. It’s my house now. Not hers. But arguing with a ghost through a third party felt petty somehow. Childish. Cassie took a deep breath through the annoyance. After all, hadn’t Nick mentioned this could be a possibility? He seemed to be just fine with a ghost roommate.

This was all getting a little too weird. Ghost stories were one thing, but living in one?

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