Page 30 of The Burnt
“Maybe just a little.”
Gwen grinned. “You, my friend, are going to have to cut down on your caffeine and sugar intake immediately. Now, let’s get this up to your office. The two of us can manage the lighter stuff. We’ll have to wait for Declan to come home before we can tackle the heavier things.”
“Hello?” a voice called from upstairs.
Charlie jumped.
“Down here in the cellar,” Gwen yelled.
Charlie heard heavy footsteps and a familiar voice. “Your front door was locked so I came in the back. What are you doing down here?”
The large frame of Sam Hunt appeared around the corner.
“Perfect timing. You can give us a hand taking some of these pieces up to Charlie’s new space. Things are getting serious up there. He’s getting his own office.”
Gwen smiled. “I’ve got some freshly baked scones that will make it worth your while if you help us.”
Sam grinned. “I’d get my way more often if you weren’t such a damned good baker.”
It took a few hours, but Charlie and the others managed to get everything upstairs. The three of them were sweating from the exertion by the time everything was put together and in place, but it looked great. Charlie couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.
“Don’t offices usually come with walls?” Sam said from where he was lying on the couch.
Charlie piped up. “There’s a plan to put up walls, but not just yet.”
“The space is still missing something,” Gwen said. “Some artwork. Something to suit the vibe of the old furniture.”
“Like what?” Charlie asked.
“How about we find a photo of what this building used to look like when it was a funeral home—”
“A what?” Sam asked.
“Sam—don’t interrupt.” She turned back to Charlie. “We’ll find an old picture and get it blown up. We could hang it above the bookcase,” she said with a devilish smile on her face.
“Over my dead body,” Charlie replied.
Gwen bent down and gave Charlie a kiss on the head. “Hopefully it never comes to that. Now, come on, Sam. Let’s get those scones, then we can go home, get cleaned up and I’ll take you out for dinner.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders and they headed down the stairs, leaving Charlie alone.
He spent the next hour cleaning his desk and bookcase, then polished the leather chair with a soft cloth until it shone like new.
Charlie stood back and marvelled at hisbureau sans murs, as the French would say—an office without walls. Gwen wasn’t the only one around here with a deft hand at French and, like Gwen’sLes Trois Magots, he’d be open to anyone in need. And, speaking of Gwen, there wasn’t a hope in hell that he was putting up a photo of a mortuary above that beautiful bookcase. He’d hang his very serious-looking university diploma there. His credibility needed all the help it could get.
Just then, his eye caught a flash of something reflected in one of the bookcase glass doors. Charlie spun around. His heart raced. There was nothing. It must have been a reflection from the street below.
“You absolute wuss,” he said, plunking himself down in his chair. This felt like it was the start to a new life. He slowly turned the chair on its pivot and out of the corner of his eye, inside the door to Declan’s office, he swore he saw the shadow of a person. They were only there for a moment, then they were gone. This time it was no trick of the light. He was sure of it.
He sat motionless, staring at where the apparition had been.Get a grip!His heart was pounding out of his chest.
You are a rational human being. It’s just an old building playing tricks on you… An old building that you are the only living person in.
Air moved past his cheek. He gasped. Then he swore a soft voice whispered, “Help me.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said to himself. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
When the stairs that led up to the apartment squeaked, it was too much.
