Page 26 of The Ghost of Ellwood
“Wanna stay for dinner?” he asked. “I’m gonna make grilled chicken and sweet potatoes.”
“Sure. I’ll help you cook.”
“How’s writing going?” he asked, as we worked around each other in the kitchen.
“Not bad.” After washing the potatoes, I began peeling them. “The beginning of a book is the hardest for me. You need to hook the reader but not beat them over the head with all the background details.”
“I’m sure you have no problem hooking readers, Mr. Bestselling Author.”
“Tell that to my last few books.”
“All artists, whether it be writers or musicians, go through a period at least once in their career when they branch out to do something different. It doesn’t always pay off, but hey, at least you tried. Just be likeTheLittle Engine That Couldand keep chugging.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” I dumped the chopped potatoes into a bowl and added a bit of oil and seasoning before mixing it together. “It’s not glamorous by any means. I’ve sacrificed a lot in my career. Mainly in my personal life.”
“Really? How?”
“Well, my ex, for starters. I didn’t give him enough attention, so he left me for another man. I don’t blame him. Writers are bizarre beings with mood swings, bouts of depression, and are mostly nocturnal. James used to call me Count Fuckula, because he said I only came out of my castle—aka my office—when I wanted food or sex.”
Carter laughed so hard he nearly choked. “Count Fuckula. Oh my God, I’m dead.”
I liked making him smile.
Carter was easily becoming one of the best friends I’d ever had. Many people had referred to me as eccentric in the past, while others said I was distant. Both held merit. Making friends was easy. Keeping them was the challenge.
We talked more as we ate. He told me about his job—he worked at a store in the mall that sold band tees and pop culture merch, which I thought suited him pretty well.
“I think they’ll be promoting me to store manager soon,” he said, beaming. “I know it’s not, like, the greatest job in the world, but I like talking to the customers who come in and helping them find whatever anime or band shirt they’re looking for.”
“You enjoy it. That’s all that matters.”
I was beginning to enjoy my work again too.
Later in the evening, I walked back home. The night air held a minor chill, and I burrowed deeper into my jacket. Gravel crunched beneath my shoes before I transitioned to the grass of my front yard.
In the dark, Blackwell Manor loomed eerily ahead. I had left on a light in the foyer, so it wouldn’t be complete darkness when I got home, but the rest of the house was cast in shadow.
Was Theo waiting for me?
Would he ever appear to me again?
I unlocked the door and went inside, closing it behind me. The foyer was lit, but the light failed to reach after several feet. The start of the spiral staircase looked like a dark shape ascending overhead. Remembering what Carter said about a woman hanging herself from the balcony made me shudder.
I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on the coatrack. I’d found the rack in the attic and thought it’d be cool to use it.
A creak came from the corridor to the right.
“Theo?”
My insides jumped when he actually rounded the corner.
“Good evening,” he said, one hand behind his back. He was the definition of prim and proper, not only in dress but mannerisms as well. “I apologize for startling you.”
“It’s, uh, okay. No worries.” I stood in place, unsure if I should go about my business or stay and chat. “I was about to go to my office. Would you like to join me?”
Theo’s forehead creased before he gave a thin smile. “Yes. I would like that very much.”
I’ll need a hard drink for this.
