Page 3 of Giving Up The Ghost
He dropped his hand and gave me an odd, tiny smile. “My me-ness?”
“Well, when you say it like that it just sounds silly.”
“It sounded silly to start with,” he replied with just a hint of sass, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he checked the email. “I was wrong—only five emails. He must have slept in. Hmm.”
“What?”
“He wants us to check on Landon Price, one of his—well, Grandmere’s really—old associates. I don’t recall Heinrich being close to the man but,” Oscar shrugged, tapping out a reply. “He says he just wants to make sure Landon Price is all right as he’s been unable to get in touch with him.” He paused, glancing up at me with a faintly worried expression. “You don’t think?—”
I knew which way Oscar’s thoughts were heading and, I admitted to myself, mine had dodged that way too. “I doubt your grandmother’s friend is dead,” I said bluntly. “I mean, god bless Heinrich’s heart, but he can be a lot, you know? Maybe this guy is just avoiding his calls.”
Oscar hesitated again, flipping his phone between his hands. “You’re probably right,” he muttered with a sigh. “I’ll pay him a call tomorrow, maybe the day after, once we get settled in.”
Ezra bounced over before I could reply. “Wotcher, Oz?” he sing songed, grinning so wide it must’ve hurt his cheeks.
“Just about to head over to the car rental desk,” Oscar said. “Charlotte is expecting us by tea, which is plenty of time to get out of here and to the house. Unless,” he hesitated, giving Ezra a careful, guarded glance. “Unless you’d like to make a stop or something on the way?”
Ezra’s gaze narrowed. “Nope,” he said, popping the p hard. “There’s nothing—no one—I need to see on the way anywhere.”
“Are you certain?”
I glanced between the two of them, not quite able to put my finger on what felt off. “Everything okay?”
Ezra sniffed, jerking his chin up in a nod. “Fine. I’ll grab the car if you two want to canoodle a bit,” he said, forcing a grin that looked so patently false I wanted to wipe it off his face and spare him the misery. “I mean, since I can’t and all, might as well live vicariously through your sex life, right?”
Oscar’s brief pause was telling. But he smiled, rolled his eyes, and reached out to feign giving Ezra a pinch on the side, making Ezra dance back and curse fluently, earning a scowl from a family of tourists all carrying Union Jack themed bags bearing the name of a tour company. “I’m going, I’m going. Make sure we didn’t forget anything, yeah? I’ll meet you at passenger pick up.”
Ezra nodded again and I muttered agreement. As Oscar walked off, Ezra caught my eye and, lips pursed, gave me a sharp, quelling look.
“Right. No asking what that was about. Got it.”
Ezra’s look was coolly appraising for a long moment before he seemed to come to a decision, his expression smoothing out into calmer lines. Tipping his chin towards the tourists, he gave me a nudge. “Come on. Ozzy’s gonna be a bit. Let’s go fuck with the Americans. I’ll tell them Big Ben’s been replaced by Big Bertha. Rile ‘em up.”
“They’re not going to believe you,” I said, trailing after him as he headed for the tourist bunch.
“Bet me ten quid.”
“Quid? You returning to your roots, I see.”
Ezra grinned, giving me a jaunty salute, then beelined to the dad of the group and laid on the worst Cockney accent since Dick Van Dyke stepped in time.
* * *
Oscar ended up driving,which was another change. Until recently, I’d been the one doing all the driving. Even though I’d known that, with this trip to England, he and Ezra would be the ones in charge of transportation and not me, the fact I literally could not drive made me feel a floppy kind of useless. Sitting up front with Oscar, listening to Ezra murmur to Harrison in the backseat thanks to the miracle of modern science and Hedy Lamarr, I found myself drowsing, vaguely glad I’d been to at least London before when I was an undergrad, so I didn’t feel like I was missing too much by napping on the way to Avesford. A few times, I tried to formulate questions for Oscar about what he hoped to get from this visit home, but my words were soft and slurred, barely discernible as language.
Oscar reached over once and gave me a gentle push when I started to slump towards him. “Jet lag’s a bitch,” he said quietly. “If you can manage, stay awake a bit longer.”
I nodded. “Sure,” I drooled. “That’s smart. Good idea.”
His soft chuckle followed me into an exhausted nap.
* * *
“This is it,”Oscar announced. I’d snapped awake when he shut the engine off and now, in the gloomy afternoon light, I was disoriented and thick, the travel grime finally making me itch and feel gross, making me wish we’d stopped at a hotel or something for a proper nap and a shower before I met a member of Oscar’s family for the first time.
Hell of a way to make an impression, I thought, climbing out of the car after Oscar and Ezra. Ezra stretched, his back popping loudly in the quiet country air even as he let out a long, obscene groan. Oscar scrubbed his hands over his face, a complicated mix of emotions flitting across his expression. Sorrow, resignation, curiosity… hunger. The sort that came from the heart rather than the belly. The hunger of someone being offered a treasure they had thought unattainable.
God, I was so tired. My analogies were purple, along with the bags under my eyes. “This place is huge,” I said, breaking the silence.
