Page 97 of Always Be an Us

Ever since Emma came around, my life has been considerably better. Especially with my relationship with my daughter. And just generally, I feel happier, lighter, more optimistic. Even more relaxed, although that might just be because I’m not around the constant hustle of New York City.

But at least some of it, I can attribute to her.

Yet, she's had one misfortune after another since meeting me. Is that because of my "dark energy," as Rick put it?

Fuck, I'm starting to become superstitious just like the rest of the people in this town.

A phone ringing interrupts our conversation, preventing me from answering. I slide the phone out of my pocket and hold it up to my ear.

"Hey, boss." It's the older contractor from Atlas leading the construction. "There's a problem. I don’t know how to say this…"

"Spit it out," he says.

"Well, it looks like someone broke into your office," he says. "I came over early today to pick up the new plans from your desk like you said. But then when I got here the place was trashed. And our wheel loader also seems to have gotten a problem overnight. It's not coming on."

"How the fuck did that happen?"

"We don't know, boss. It was like this when we got here."

I let out a curse as I hang up. What the fuck is happening right now?

Who would do this?

Perhaps weeks ago, it would make sense. Just about anyone in town could have had it out for me. But why would they do it now when I'm renovating rather than demolishing the hotel? Or do they not want renovations either?

Or could this be Micah’s work?

I called him a few days ago and told him that I wouldn't be taking his deal. He wasn't happy about it, although he sounded just as sarcastic and amused as ever. Maybe this is his payback. Or maybe he decided to go through with his plans without me?

I’ll kill the bastard if it's true.

"I gotta go," I say and head upstairs to get Emma.

Something strange is going on, and we need to get to the bottom of it.

"What if it was ghosts?" my daughter asks later that evening as we have dinner together.

"Ghost?"

"Yeah." She twirls her pasta on her fork and then holds it up as she speaks. "The Pink Hotel is haunted, everyone knows that. That's why so many bad things have happened there. What if the ghosts figured out that you're trying to get it up and running again and they're making everything go awry?"

"Awry? That's a big word, sweetheart."

She rolls her eyes. "I use a lot of big words, Dad. English is my best subject."

"Of course. It's why you like these stories so much. But there's no such thing as ghosts, sweetie." I reach over and ruffle her hair as she pushes her fork into her mouth.

"You don't know that," she continues after she chews and swallows the mouthful of pasta. "There are a lot of mystical things that happen all over the world, things we don't understand. I watch it all the time on Discovery Channel."

She points to the diary resting beside her plate on the dinner table and implores Emma who's seated on the other side of her.

"Think about it. After her lover’s death, Madam T disappeared into thin air. No one found her or her body. What if she turned into a ghost and now haunts the place because of the tragedy? And then maybe the people who died from the fire also became ghosts. So it's basically like a court of ghosts ruled by Madam T and she's making them do her evil bidding."

Emma taps her chin. "It’s plausible. But for such a well-organized ghost army, they're not doing a very good job. I mean all they did was ransack your dad's office and maybe break down the wheel loader. But construction can continue even without those things, so it doesn't feel very productive to me." She shrugs. "They were better off, just appearing and scaring the bejesus out of people instead."

Emma thinks about it and nods.

"It's not ghosts," I say because they seem to be giving this matter serious thought. "Just a normal criminal. And when I get my hands on them..." I trail off because my daughter is watching me, and none of what I have to say next is kid friendly.

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