Page 5 of Haunted Ever After

Jo dunked her tea bag a couple times before leaving the cup on the counter and taking a card out of her back pocket. “You mind if I…?” She pointed to the corkboard by the door, and Nick nodded.

“Of course.”

“That time of year again.” She stabbed a pushpin into the middle of the card, securing it to the board. The words HELP WANTED were scrawled across the top in stark black marker, and he nodded knowingly. School would be out soon, and kids home from college for the summer would be looking for part-time gigs. Just in time for tourist season, when almost everyone around here would need the extra help.

Boneyard Key was too small to have a newspaper of its own. The best way to get the word out about something was by leaving word with whoever was volunteering at the chamber of commerce that day, or by sticking an index card on the corkboard here at Hallowed Grounds.

Of course, the other way to get the word out around here was an even more old-fashioned way: gossip. Had Jo heard the latest? “Did you hear someone’s moved into the Hawkins House?”

“No shit?” Jo’s eyebrows jumped up her forehead as she retrieved her cup of tea. She dunked her tea bag a couple more times before pitching it into the trash and adding way too much sugar. “Like, to live?”

“Yep.”

“Man.” She shook dark hair out of her eyes. “The number of times my brother dared me to go up and knock on that door during a full moon, see if a ghost would answer…” She gave a mock shudder and a crooked grin, then popped a to-go lid on her tea. “Can’t wait to see who’s gonna brave that place.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He didn’t need to tell Jo about Cassie’s dark eyes and tousled hair. The gossip was really more about the house than about her. He could leave her out of it for now.

Jo shook down her wrist to look at her watch, a bracelet-like ornamental thing that was at least three generations older than she was. “Ah, crap. I’m late.” Jo was always late. But then again, not a lot of people were hammering on the door of a consignment shop in a tourist town at nine fifteen in the morning.

She turned back at the door. “Oh, if you see Vince before I do, tell him Dad got a couple guitars from an antiques fair in Tampa. If he wants to come by, we’d love his help figuring out what they’re worth.”

“Oh, man. He’s gonna be all over that.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll have to listen to ‘Stairway to Heaven’ at least twelve times, but he knows his shit.”

Jo threw a wave over her shoulder on the way out, the bell above the door echoing in the ensuing silence. That silence would remain, mostly unbroken, until Ramon showed up a little after ten thirty to help with the lunch crowd. (This time of year, “crowd” was relative, but Ramon had been hired by the previous owner and was better in the kitchen than Nick, so it was easier to just keep him around.)

Nick liked the quiet. He liked that time to catch up on dishes and reset the coffee counter, which was in almost-constant disarray. He liked that moment of running a rag across the pristine countertops. He liked the peace of this time of the morning. The routine of it.

Of course, part of that routine was yet another text from Elmer. Told ya. Cinnamon is shit in banana bread.

Yeah, I know. There was easily a loaf and a half of the stuff left today. This town did not take well to change. But Nick was not going to admit defeat, especially not to Elmer. What if I tried chocolate chips? He pressed his lips together to hide his smile as he typed, knowing that would set Elmer off.

It did. What is wrong with you?

He was contemplating the many ways he could reply to that when the bell above the front door chimed. At first he groaned inwardly; he’d cleaned up from breakfast and had already mentally turned over to lunchtime. But then he glanced up. Tousled hair, dark eyes. Laptop bag over her shoulder.

“You’re back.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could think them, abrupt and unwelcoming. It really was amazing that he worked in the service industry. He tried to sound friendly, but it usually came out as gruff. Nick Royer was an acquired taste, his sister Courtney liked to say. Come to think of it, his ex-girlfriend had said that too. And most of his friends. Huh.

But this woman didn’t know him, so she hadn’t acquired anything.

“Sure am.” She sounded about as happy as he did as she slung her laptop bag onto that same table in the back corner. The one near the outlet. “Don’t worry,” she said. “No meetings today. I just need to charge up my computer and maybe get a little work done.”

Nick nodded. “Hazelnut latte?”

“Please.” She smiled. “Iced.” She uncoiled the charging cord and plugged it in. Nick narrowed his eyes at that.

“So what’s up with your computer?”

“I wish I knew.” She sighed and shook her head, sending that lock of hair that Nick couldn’t stop thinking about tumbling down to curve around her cheek again. She tucked it behind her ear absently. “I leave it plugged in all night, and it’s dead by morning. I’ve even switched outlets, but it’s the same no matter what. It doesn’t make any sense; if I plug a lamp in it works fine. But my laptop? No joy.”

“Did you call Buster yet?” Nick was already reaching for his phone. There was a string of texts from Elmer, still waxing philosophical on the virtues of his banana bread recipe. He fired off a quick response to shut him up. Gotta go. Got busy again.

“No,” Cassie said. “I didn’t get a chance yesterday. I’ll call him this afternoon.”

“Nah, I got it.” But before he could bring up Buster’s number, another text from Elmer popped up.

Oh please. There’s like one person.

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