Page 21 of Giving Up The Ghost
She inhaled deep and slow, eyes narrowing. I had the distinct feeling that, if she could have managed it, my head would’ve popped off right then under the power of her glare. Then, like a magic trick, her fierce, dour demeanor changed, and her expression relaxed and tone softened as she addressed Oscar again. “I was thinking that tomorrow, I could show you something very special. Something… personal, for the family.”
A flicker of interest lit his features. “I’m sure we could tonight,” he began, but she shook her head.
“In the morning. And, I know it’s a bit early, but I’ve got tea ready for everyone. Perhaps, this evening, we could all use some time to reset.”
And with that, she swept Oscar into the house, one arm looped through his, leaving Ezra and me on the porch.
“To borrow a phrase from my sister, she ain’t right,” I muttered.
Ezra nodded. “She makes my hacker fingers itchy.”
Hefting a mirthless chuckle, I said, “I was going to ask if you could help me dig into some background on the house, but I think maybe your idea takes precedence.”
He shrugged. “I can do both. I’m a man of many talents.” Grinning, he stepped ahead and held the door for me. “Just ask Harrison.”
“Eh, I’m good, thanks.”
“That’s what?—”
“Don’t.”
He grinned, then paused with one hand on the door as his expression became considering. “How devoted are you to the idea of tea with Herself and Oscar?”
“Herself? Er, with Charlotte? I’m not a fan.”
He nodded. “Hold up.” He grabbed his phone and shot off a text. “Come on then. I just told Oscar I was taking you to Avesdale for pie and tea.”
Ezra’s phone chimed as he ushered me down the steps once more. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m too pretty for prison, and I might throttle Charlotte if I have to look at her for another minute.”
“Well. If it’s a cost-saving thing, sure. Let’s go.”
* * *
The tiny caféin Avesdale was half-full of people eating cakes and pie, drinking coffee, and generally enjoying the late afternoon.
Except Ezra.
He was fidgeting like a hamster full of Red Bull.
“Are you okay? Do we need to go?”
“No,” Ezra muttered. “I mean. I don’t think so. I just can’t shake the feeling something is wrong. Before we left, Charlotte was all… red and bruised.” He made a face, shoving his phone back into his pocket without even checking if there were any texts from Harrison.
Shit must be serious.
“What does red and bruised mean, exactly?” We were sitting in a small booth at an equally small café, one where the proprietress knew Ezra from his early years and apparently still thought he was seven or eight, judging by the warnings she gave him about putting his feet on the seat and finishing his pie becauseclean plates mean big muscles.
I received no such warnings, so either I was a lost cause or Ezra was a special case.
Ezra pushed at his chocolate pie with the back of his fork, frown deepening. “I’ve been trying to codify it, you know? Come up with some way to explain it to others.” He took another bite of his pie, licking the fork then, before leaning in a bit closer to mutter, “Do not tell Oscar, but I asked Lisa for help.”
“Lisa?”
“Well, and Heinrich. And…” He sighed, closing his eyes. “Enoch too.”
“Holy shit. Seriously? And not Oscar?”
