Page 6 of Giving Up The Ghost
She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips as she waved me off. “Ah, never mind me. I suppose I’m just a bit tired, you know? It’s been a long week, getting ready for your visit.”
My curiosity was definitely piqued—there’d been a few ghosts I’d met that didn’t appreciate my way of communicating, or had been frustrated with how things played out, but I had the feeling that Charlotte meant something different entirely. “I’m sorry to put you to trouble?—”
“Pah! Don’t apologize! We’ve been talking for months—I would have said at any time to cancel your plans, that I was not wanting this, if that had been true.” She bustled over to the table with the sandwiches, leaving me to trail after her. “Ignore me, Oscar. I’m a nervous nelly. That’s the expression, right? American, I think?”
“It is,” Julian said, ducking through the door, narrowly avoiding the low lintel my ancestors would’ve found high enough. Hell, I just about found it high enough. He caught my gaze and smiled, looking tired but somehow energized at the same time. “Early twentieth century.”
Charlotte’s faintahwas the only response. She hurried back to the stove, and it was, effectively, a dismissal. He rolled his eyes at me, and I gave him a gently quelling glare. “Be nice,” I mouthed.
He hummed acquiescence, limping closer with the use of the highly polished walking stick I had given him a few weeks ago, to replace the metal one issued by his physical therapist. The walking stick gleamed in the soft kitchen light, the silver grip in the shape of a human skull withMemento Moriengraved across the forehead. He and CeCe shared the same dry, dark sense of humor apparently, because she’d burst into a gale of laughter when he showed it to her, the pair slipping into some shared language of half-sentences, nods, hand gestures, all bespeaking their connection not just as twins but family and—I’d say this but not to their faces for fear of being slapped—friends. Despite his pleasure in the aesthetics, he’d been loath to pack the walking stick, but I’d wheedled then, when that failed, offered sexual favors if he’d bring itjust in case. The promise must’ve been very motivating because he also packed his forearm crutches in checked baggage. Also,just in case. He leaned into me more heavily than I’d expected, making me shift my weight and lean back against the worktop. Julian tried to pull away, frowning, but I tightened my grip around his waist.
“You got out your stick. Is your hip that bad?” I knew whatever his answer was wouldn’t be the entire truth. I couldn’t decide if he was ashamed of his new normal, or if he was angry, in denial, or some combination of the three.
“Hours of sitting on the plane,” he dismissed. “Should be good to go in the morning. I was thinking of turning in early tonight. Maybe using that huge slipper tub upstairs first, though.” He cast me a hopeful glance, heat racing along my skin in its wake. Julian made a small gesture towards Charlotte, her back still to us, and mouthedLater.
I grinned, nodding. “Itishuge, isn’t it? Grandmere had it added after she and Grandfather married, I recall. He told me the story more than once, about how the deliverymen couldn’t get it up the stairs and had to rig some pully system and take out the window in the suite.”
Julian winced. “Good lord, that must’ve been nerve-wracking. This place is a near-perfect example of Georgian architecture. I’d love to take a look around later,” he added, pitching his voice so Charlotte knew he was talking to her. “If you don’t mind? Maybe you could show me around.”
She glanced back at us, lips pursed. “I’m afraid my schedule is full.” As an afterthought, she tossed out, “Feel free to show yourself around. Besides, this isn’t my house, hm?”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something no doubt acid and sharp, but I laid my hand on his arm and shook my head. “She’s nervous,” I murmured. “And I think maybe a bit embarrassed. She mentioned just before you came in how her own abilities aren’t very strong. She’s probably feeling a bit awkward about this whole visit because of me.”
He didn’t roll his eyes, but I could tell by the twitch at the corner of his left one it was a near thing. I tugged his arm and led him to the table where Charlotte was setting down a tureen of the best-stirred soup in England. The quiet was tense, practically palpable as she ladled out a portion into a bowl for me, then one for Julian. He made an amused, annoyed sound as she set it down before him with a heavy thud. I took up the platter of sandwiches and offered them to Charlotte first, then Julian. Ezra clattered into the room as we were nibbling politely on the cold cut and cheese sandwiches. He snagged one off the stack and sat beside Charlotte, reaching for the soup tureen and the empty bowl she’d left for him. “Oh, this is well nice.” He sighed happily after the first spoon of soup, his cheeks pink and lips red as if he’d been biting them.
“Been talking to Harrison?” I asked, waggling my brows at him. He offered me a two-fingered salute even as he nodded.
“He was on his way to brunch with a client,” Eza said around a mouthful of sandwich. “Had to go so he would be there before they arrived. Apparently, it’s a power move to be there first.” He grinned at Charlotte. “M’boyfriend’s a lawyer in the States,” he said. “I tried to get him to come with, but apparently he’s afflicted with this horrible disease calledwork ethic. It sounds dreadful. Hope it’s not contagious.”
I could see the moment Ezra realized his teasing jokes weren’t landing. His smile didn’t falter but his eyes tightened a bit at the corners as he assessed Charlotte’s response, namely her blank stare and polite, distant nod.
Julian cleared his throat softly and said, “Thank you for making tea, Charlotte. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I took a bite.”
Charlotte made a soft sound that could’ve been pleasure or just indigestion—it was impossible to tell—and applied herself to spoon soup steadily into her mouth.
“How did you come to choose this house then?” Ezra asked. “Oscar mentioned he’d suggested the townhouse when you two were arranging this little visit, but you preferred this one.”
Charlotte made a vague gesture at the kitchen doorway. “The stone steps are nice.”
We all three glanced toward the doorway and the hint of the stone steps leading to the upper floors just visible through the opening. “They are,” I allowed. Charlotte darted me a thankful look before bending back to her sandwiches, hiding her face as she nibbled at the corner of one.
She seemed reticent, maybe a bit shy if I had to guess. I wasn’t a body language expert, but the way she kept avoiding eye contact reminded me of how Ezra used to be around people he didn’t know well.
“We keep country hours here,” Charlotte announced. “Tea will be around seven or so, but I lock up at nine. Anyone outside will stay there.”
Ezra was as familiar to me as the back of my own hand, so when his eyebrows did thatthingand his lips did that other thing, and he set his glass down very deliberately, I knew what was coming and I had to head it off. “I’m feeling a bit wound up,” I announced, seemingly apropos of nothing. Julian paused mid-chew and stared at me with awhat the helllook on his face. “A walk would definitely be the thing. Not a terribly long one, though. Maybe just to the inn and back.”
Julian swallowed, then politely wiped his mouth with one of the cloth napkins Charlotte had set out. “I’d love to, but I need to rest my leg and hip…”
“Ezra, you’ll come, won’t you? We can see if that graffiti we left at the pub in the village is still there.”
He shifted his gaze to me finally and, for a moment, I thought he’d refuse. Finally, he lifted one shoulder and smiled. “Sure. I think I need to get out for a bit myself. Something in this house is making me itchy.”
* * *
“Seriously,what the fuck is going on?”
I shook my head, barely managing to keep from rolling my eyes at his exasperation. “She’s just shy, Ez. That’s all. From what it sounded like when we were chatting via email and all that, she had a fairly sheltered life. Not many Fellowes left, overall, and she and her daughter seemed to be rather isolated.”
