Page 2 of Sapphire Nights
Before she could flip open the others, an ethereal figure emergedfrom the dark mist into the lamplight. Wearing what appeared to be a Smoky Bear hat—how could she recall that image?—a checked flannel shirt, jeans, and run-down suede boots topped with grubby faux fur, the figure appeared androgynous but notdangerous.
“A bit early for the diner,” the stranger said in a feminine voice. “But I’ve got keys. Looking forcoffee?”
“I would kill for coffee,”she said, then wondered if she might have killed someone. How would she know? She had been hoping someone here could tell her if she had parents, a significant other... kids? She didn’t think she had kids, but she didn’t knowwhy.
“Long drive, huh? I’m Mariah.” The stranger approached from across the lot. “I open up for Dinah most days because I’d kill for coffeetoo.”
How didshe respond? The polite thing to do was give a name, but all she had was the one in the textbook. “I’m Sam.” That felt right enough to continue. “I’ve been driving all night. Then my GPS died, and now I’m lost. I figured I’d feed Emmafirst.”
One of the boxes contained pet supplies, she discovered in relief. She popped open a can, retrieved a water bottle and bowl, and opened the back door.The cat was an over-large, well-furredmarmalade.
Mariah peered in the backseat. “You have Emma? I’ve been wondering where she’d got to. You saw Cassthen?”
How did she respond to that? Admit she had no memory? The first thing a normal person would do was call the police or a doctor, but what if she was a criminal? Who was Cass and why would she give her acat?
“Last night,”was all she—Sam—could think to say. She set the food and water on the floor, then let the cat out. Apparently there was already a litter box behind the passenger seat. Someone had thought of everything. It hadn’t beenher.
“Now you’re really interesting me,” Mariah said as Sam shut and locked the car door. “And just as a side note, cell phones don’t work here either. The Nulls will tellyou that it’s because we’re a valley surrounded by mountains with no cell tower, and the population is too thin to justify satellites.” She led the way across the parking lot to a long, low building with big plate glasswindows.
“Nulls?”
Mariah plugged a key into a bolt. “Techies, geeks, the unevolved.” She flipped a switch inside the door, illuminating a small café with a long counterand half a dozenbooths.
It was good to see clearly again. Sam studied the chipped Formica tables and counter, the red cracked vinyl stools, and wondered if she’d traveled back intime.
At least she had a sense of time, that had to be good,right?
Over the counter she caught glimpses of a mural painted between cabinets and behind machinery depicting this same diner in an earlierera—if the clothing on the people was any indication. She studied the faces, hoping to recognize them, but that was foolish. She hadn’t been born at a time when women wore leather vests over lacy maxi dresses and tied their long hair back in beaded headbands. For whatever reason, the mural made her feel vaguely uneasy. The painting was faded and covered with decades of grease, as blurred asif concealed byfog.
Mariah set to filling coffee pots with the ease of experience. “Have a seat. The machinery is slow but the coffee isgood.”
“And there is another theory about the lack of cell phone signals?” Sam had picked up on the nuance, so she wasn’t exactly stupid, always good to know. Could she hope that textbooks meant she waseducated?
“You don’t know about Hillvale?”With the coffee perking, Mariah flung her hat under the counter. The gesture let down lustrous black hair that she expertly braided as she talked. Sam admired her high cheekbones and brown coloring—and glanced at her own hand to verify she was a patheticwhite.
Afraid to admit that she didn’t even know her own name, Sam shook her head. “I was just given an address on Cemetery Road and toldto head north. The town welcome sign was a little spooky on top of thataddress.”
Mariah laughed and took down two plain white mugs. “Since you have her cat, Cassandra must have sent you. She’s the only one who lives out by thecemetery.”
“You know her?” Sam asked, partially in relief and partially in distraction since she had utterly no clue who had senther.
“Cassandra isa fixture around here. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you the Hillvale story. She knows it better than anyone. But last I looked, she wasn’t home, so I’ll give you a short synopsis. Cream?Sugar?”
Sam didn’t know. “Both,” she decided, figuring she could try it black, then add what seemed best. So, she knew what went into coffee but didn’t know whatsheput into it. Interesting. “Synopsis,please.” She hid her dismay that the only person on Cemetery Road wasn’t home. Worse yet, this Cass had apparently given her a cat, which indicated she might not be going home anytimesoon.
Had she no family? No friends? She really was ready to weep—in disappointment as much as fear. Hope that she was coming home had carried her this far. Now, she had nothing. She swallowed hard on incipientpanic.
Mariah filled a sugar container and pulled a box of artificial cream packets from under the counter. “Way back before the highways went in, the late 1800s, I think, there was a ranch and lumber mill up here. But they couldn’t keep any help because the place was haunted. That was back in the days when the ladies back East played at spiritualism. Ever heard of LilyDale?”
Ifshe had, Sam couldn’t say. Sheshrugged.
“Well, the ranch owner’s wife was originally from New York, and she had a sister still back there who was one of the Lily Dale spiritualists. The sister got all excited about the ghosts and caught the next train, so tospeak.”
“I like this story.” Sam drew in the rich aroma of the coffee Mariah handed her. “I like it even better with caffeine.Did the sister findghosts?”
“Oh yeah.” Mariah nodded toward the ceiling. “That’s my job around here, to catch the ghosts.” Without looking the least bit insane, she sipped hercoffee.
Sam swung the stool around and studied the ceiling behind her. In each corner was an intricate web of yarn and string decorated with what appeared to be beads and crystals. “Aren’t those called dreamcatchers?I don’t see any ghosts.” She almost felt disappointed as she swung back toMariah.
