Page 36 of Haunted Hearts
WILL
Zeke: Can ghosts have, like, venereal diseases?
Phoebe: I’m surprised you can use that word in a sentence. But no. I don’t think so.
Zeke: Ok. Anyway, where’s Will?
Benji: This is the group chat
Will: Holy duck. I’m volunteering at the fall festival all afternoon.
Will: *Duck
Will: *Duck!!
Will: F-U-C-K
The weather is gorgeous on Saturday afternoon as I come rolling down Main Street and whip my truck into a parking spot off one of the side roads. The sky is clear and blue, and the sun’s shining overhead, but there’s a chilly little bite in the airthat reminds you it’s autumn. We really couldn’t have asked for better weather for the fall crafts festival today. People are sure to be out and about, enjoying the sunshine.
“Will! Over here!”
I step down from the truck and scan the square to see who’s calling me. The place isn’t crowded yet, and it only takes a quick glance before I see Nancy, waving excitedly from behind the table she’s already set up on the sidewalk. Beside her, Lydia’s unloading something from a huge box on the table. She looks up at me briefly, then goes back to her work without so much as a wave. I guess the weather isn’t raising her spirits this afternoon like it is mine.
Well, that’s just fine. We’re not besties. Hell, we’re not evenfriends. We’re two people who gave into our primal urges, had a good time doing so, and are now going our separate ways. End of story. Except I still need to tell her about that final approval from the board.
God.
I shove the thought from my mind and head over to the booth. “Lovely day out today, isn’t it?”
“Oh, justglorious,” Nancy gushes. She claps her hands together and gazes in wonder at the spread of other tables being set up in the square. “Hopefully we get a good turnout.”
Lydia lifts her now empty box from the table and flattens it, setting it down below and out of the way. She turns her attention to the brown paper bundles heaped on the table in front of her, starts sorting them into groups and lining them up.
“So what have we got today, exactly?” I venture, nodding to the packages. I know it’s some kind of book sale, but no one’s told me anything further than that. I’m just here as the architect, the face of the project. The board thought it’d be helpful if people could come by and ask me questions directly about the details of the renovation.
“Blind date with a book,” Lydia says, still not looking up.
“Okay…”
Nancy clucks her tongue, and Lydia sighs, finally sparing me a glance while she continues her work. I’m honestly surprised to see a little patch of color rising in her cheeks. She chews her lip as she talks, looking suddenly shy.
“I wrapped the books in brown paper so no one will see the titles. But they’ve got these cards on the front that give you a few details about the vibe of the book, who the characters may be—that kind of thing.”
“Huh.” I pick up one of the wrapped books and scan the handwritten card stuck to the front. “Spooky. Main character is a little boy. Do not read while snowed in.”
“The Shining,” Lydia says. There’s a small smile on her lips. “Stephen King.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. I place the book back on the table and Lydia swipes it away, adding it to her lineup.
“The books are five dollars apiece,” Nancy says. She’s got a wad of bills fanned out in front of her and is counting through them. “But obviously, it’s a fundraiser, so people are welcome to donate more if they’d like. I suspect we’ll get a number who’d like to contribute checks, too.”
Lydia gives the rows of books one last little shuffle, making sure they’re all lying perfectly arranged, the cards visible beneath the red and white string she’s tied in a bow around each of them. It really looks like a table covered in old-fashioned Christmas presents.
She steps back from the table, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. The delicious vanilla scent that wafts toward me is tempting as shit, and I’ve got the sudden urge to let my mind go in places it shouldn’t right now. This is a family event. Sporting a boner from behind this table would be one thousand percent unacceptable.
“There,” Lydia announces.
She looks at Nancy, pointing out the groupings of books on the table. “Left side is adult fiction, the middle is young adult, and on the right we’ve got kids.Magic Treehouse, that sort of thing. And with that, I’m going to get coffee. Be back in a few.”
