Adelaide Upset Page 8

  I shut the backdoor to Luke’s kitchen quietly, thinking he would be asleep. But as I padded silently down the hall I saw him pacing in the living room, bathed in flickering blue from the muted TV. The phone was pressed to his ear and he was listening as he prowled around restlessly. “What else is there to try?” A pause. “No, I’m not giving up, but it seems pointless now.”

  I’d meant to wave and catch his attention, but he was speaking forcefully, in a way I’d never heard before, so I let my hand drop, staying in the shadowed hall.

  “Hope?” he asked. “Is that a joke?” Another pause. “Fine. Yes, alright.” He hung up, lightly tossing the phone onto the coffee table where it clattered across the surface. He seemed tired as he sank into the couch, drained, but still emotionally silent. He’d been agitated though, and I was a bit jealous that something or someone could get him that worked up. If anyone provoked an emotion it should be me.

  “What was that?” I asked, stepping into the room with him.

  His eyes sought mine, finding me easily in the dim swirl of color.

  “I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but the conversation sounded so interesting I went ahead and did it anyway.”

  “Come here,” he said, slapping the cushion next to him.

  I didn’t hesitate, and once I was seated beside him he moved, leaning forward as his hand snaked out to grab my ankle off the floor. I had no choice but to pivot, turning to face his profile as he dragged my foot into his lap.

  They were still damp from walking over the dew covered grass, little flecks of green pasted to my skin from the recently mowed lawn. “What?” I asked, jiggling my leg to get his attention. He was staring at my foot with curiosity, though I had no idea why, it wasn’t half as mysterious as his phone call had been.

  “Where are your shoes?” he finally asked.

  I shrugged. “Couldn’t find any.”

  “There’s some upstairs.”

  “Mystery solved. I left them all at your place.” Nudging his hard stomach with my toes I forced him back on track. “If I didn’t know better I’d swear you were changing the subject.” Unrelenting, I pressed, “What was that phone call about?”

  He grunted, settling further into the couch as he thumbed circles into my instep. “I have to go out of town.”

  “Already? But it feels like you just got back.” I winced at the sound of my own dismay. Clearing my throat, I did my best not to sound like such a needy cow as I continued with pretended nonchalance. “So where are you headed next?”

  “Asheville, North Carolina.”

  I slipped my free foot off the floor and into Luke’s lap, hoping for a continued massage. “You looking for some sex before you have to ship off?” Between the phone call and his looming departure I wasn’t feeling particularly amorous, but I figured I should nag him a bit for form’s sake. Eventually he’d crack.

  He stared at me, an unblinking wall in more ways than one.

  I sighed, reaching for the remote. “What’s on TV?”

  “Star Wars.”

  “Perfect,” I said, turning on the sound.

  * * *

  “Don’t waste my time,” I griped. “You’re not even trying.”

  It was a Monday afternoon at Sterling’s, and therefore, dead as a doornail. Since it was the summer season I might expect a few rooms to fill up during the evening, but until then the office was all mine. I’d already sent Stephen off, ushering him out the door so I could focus on his father’s spectral image, or lack thereof.

  Smith was more or less a pocket of mist, sometimes thickening into a blot of white. He hovered over the counter, swirling around the large candle I’d lit for his benefit. The flame wavered and jerked, but didn’t go out.

  “Come on,” I said losing patience. “Swirl faster!”

  Easing back into the swivel chair I relaxed behind the front desk, prepared to wait. Ghosts were like batteries, using up energy and then needing a refill. Smith could barely take on the shape of his former six foot something self, so turning solid was out of the question. I very much doubted if he could even manage the light switch, so for now he was taking baby steps. All he had to do was blow out the candle.

  Since I was wearing Percy’s ring I was able to see the dash of Smith’s airy presence. To anyone else it would look like the candle was flickering for no apparent reason, the smudge of circling white invisible. But Smith was not always sight unseen. He could haunt the pants off a skeptic when he was at his strongest.

  The flame moved as if tethered to Smith, tipping in circles as he shifted around. Eventually it wobbled and cut out, a ribbon of gray smoke to mingle with his white.

  “Good,” I said, picking up the lighter. “Now do it again.”

  After an hour the lumberjack was back. He’d managed to form the outline of his tall, slim frame, but I could barely make out the color of his flannel shirt which I knew was always blue. His image was like dish water, see-through but murky, the details lost.

  “Hurry up,” I said, setting out the final touch: a jar of Missy’s kimchi. “Stephen will be finishing up soon.”

  I’d cleared off my desk, putting the Ouija board front and center. Percy’s gift rendered it useless, but that was the point. The more I ritualized my communication with Smith, the more effort I made, the stronger he became. So I kept the candle burning, put out some food (as if I were trying to attract mice instead of ghosts) and then had Smith switch off the table lamp. I made a few concessions though, leaving on the overhead and keeping the Ouija board out of sight, hidden behind the high check-in counter should someone walk in. The only task left was to make Smith cooperate.

  He kept his distance, feeling trapped, as if he’d been backed into a corner. It was a fair observation. I’d never told him outright, but I knew he knew I could sense emotions, so this séance would be more or less a polygraph for him. Quite undesirable for someone who wanted to keep their secrets, as Smith did. But he was drained, needing to participate or stay weak and unstable. And since he didn’t strike me as the type who would willingly remain so, I knew it was only a matter of time before he folded. Sure enough, he moved forward, peering down at the Ouija board with begrudging compliance.

  I fingered the planchette, thinking of my first question. Deciding to dive right in, I asked, “Did Marks murder you?”

  It was a dunk of cold water and Smith recoiled in shock. His features began to haze, going glassy, making him seem far away.

  Afraid he’d turn into a spray of white and disperse on the spot, I hurried to appease him, raising my hands in the ‘I don’t have a gun’ gesture of surrender.

  “You died,” I said quietly. “But you’re always here with me, so sometimes I just... forget. I don’t want to pretend like I understand it, because I don’t. I’ve known people that died, but it’s not the same, is it?

  “If you can’t remember, then maybe you aren’t supposed to,” I continued gently. “Maybe those last moments are repressed, and I won’t push you. But, Smith, I’m not going to stop looking for answers. Stephen thinks you abandoned him. You can’t let him think that. I know I can’t.”

  I put the planchette on the board, the triangular piece of wood pointed and ready. “I won’t ask you anything. Just tell me whatever you think I should know.”

  He’d calmed, but a feeling of purpose stole over him. As he reached over the counter his movements were quick, fluid, and totally unnatural.

  “Don’t point!” I complained, my eyes flashing. “I’m supposed to do it.”

  It was a long process, moving the planchette around the letters until Smith stopped me with a feeling, but it was worth it. Not only did it sharpen Smith up a bit, but it sharpened up my skills as well, helping me key into the subtler of emotions. That was not why I insisted on communicating the long, drawn out way though. I insisted because I enjoyed it. It was the only time that seeing ghosts felt fun.

  S-T-O-L-E-T-A-P-E

  He had a sense of fulfillment, the message complete.
<
br />   “You died over petty theft?”

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Ignore it,” I said as the phone shrilled in its cradle.

  T-O-P-R-O-T-E-C-T

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Keep going,” I ground out, thinking the person wouldn’t dare try a third time.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Just point,” I growled after throwing the planchette at the phone. But he never got the chance.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Damn it!” I ripped the phone up off the desk. “What!” I bit into the receiver.

  “Hello, Miss Graves. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  It was Reed Wallace. Of course it was.

  “It’s always a bad time when you call,” I spit back, still seething. Smith had taken the interruption as a reprieve, drifting out the door without a second thought. “What the hell do you mean by calling four times?”

  “I knew you were at work, and, believe it or not, was worried when you didn’t pick up.”

  Again, I wanted to label him stalker, but I wore the Tibetan ring willingly and nothing could induce me to remove it, so I forewent the insult. Instead muttering, “What do you want?”

  “Just to touch base—”

  I stopped listening to him as the door was thrust open. Francesca strolled through, her smile bright as the light limning her from behind.

  “Nothing new to report,” I hurried to say. “Do not call back.”

  Francesca was standing over the counter before I even set the phone down. I was totally flustered as she flicked Missy’s ramen noodles with a disdainful finger, her eyes widening as she spotted the Ouija board under my elbows.

  “What have you been doing?”

  What indeed. Where did I even begin? I was far too upset over all the secrets I was keeping from her to do little more than shrug. I could hardly tell her I was in contact with Reed, so it was a relief that she didn’t mention my hurried hang up. But how the hell was I going to explain the Ouija board?

  Lucky me, I didn’t have to. Francesca was practically bursting with news, and so, with a cursory sweep of her eyes she dismissed everything to more swiftly deliver the news. “I want to visit the Parlor,” she said. “For guidance. I need a reading about Conner, things are getting serious. He asked me to marry him.”

  Chapter 12

  “I don’t think I’m going to say yes, but imagine the dress I could get from Botticelli’s,” Francesca prattled as she drove us toward the Parlor. “I’m thinking ivory, white is just so bright, almost garish really. But I’m probably not going to say yes.”

  I’d tried to escape this trip, citing work as my excuse, but of course Francesca had already enlisted Stephen’s help and he’d been waiting to take over at the front desk.

  My problem was secrets: I had too many of them. As my best friend Francesca should know them all, or at least a few, but in actuality she knew none. I hadn’t told her that after our first trip to the Parlor I’d returned, that I’d become friends with Nancy, or that I wasn’t quite the disbeliever I’d been. But if Nancy greeted me in her customary fashion, Francesca wouldn’t be in the dark for long.

  I was too tense to enjoy the soft leather seat, or Francesca’s perfume which had somehow fused with the car after so many trips. Francesca wasn’t helping either. She tried to play off this new turn of events as if it was nothing, but she was far too excited. I was beginning to worry that soon she’d be Mrs. Connor... what the hell was his last name?

  “What’s Conner’s last name?” I asked, turning to see Francesca better.

  “It’s...” A flare of panic, her hands tightening on the wheel.

  “Holy shit. You don’t even know his name!”

  “I do,” she said firmly. “It’s... Price. His name is Connor Price.” She paused at a four-way, letting the herd of pedestrians cross. “But I’m more interested in you and Lucas,” she tacked on, hurrying to change the subject before I thought up some more questions concerning her ‘beloved’ for which she couldn’t answer. “Has he popped your cherry?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I feel as if you’re holding onto your virginity with both hands. Stop clinging, Adelaide, and let it go already.”

  “I’m never letting you play godmother to my children.”

  She wasn’t the least bit offended. “You have to have sex to have kids, so at this rate I predict you’ll die alone. No, not alone. You’ll have cats. Lots and lots of cats.”

  “I want to have sex, believe it or not, and I’m ready... I guess. It’s Lucas, he’s stubborn. He won’t do it until he’s convinced I’m ready.”

  Francesca’s head jerked in my direction, staring as if I’d contracted some rare new disease. “Jeez, Adelaide, you can’t even give it away.”

  “Watch the road!” I barked.

  We skimmed past a mail truck, too close for comfort. Francesca was forced to concentrate as she weaved us through the tiny grid of crowded streets, driving into tourist central.

  “Go on,” I said, feeling her indecision and desire. “Say it, I know you want to.”

  “He’s cheating!” she cried, as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I mean, I know he likes you, he’s waiting and all, like a gentleman, but he must be seeing someone else.”

  “He’s not,” I said calmly. I felt totally sure.

  She arched an eyebrow, playing the jaded strumpet who knew better. “Why don’t you get a reading and see,” she challenged, pulling up directly in front of the Parlor.

  * * *

  I was only too happy to see Eclipsys, a first I’m sure. It meant I was saved. She worked at the Parlor, a friend of Nancy’s, but unlike Nancy she wasn’t gifted. I recognized her for a fraud that first time we met, so you could say we didn’t get off to a good start. That fact would pay off now.

  She and Francesca bantered over the front desk, Eclipsys explaining that Nancy was with a client. I hurried to cut in, “No need to wait for Madame Bristow, you’ve done a reading for Francesca before. The stars are as good as the cards, isn’t that what they say?”

  Francesca’s look was dubious. Obviously she knew I was full of shit.

  “We’ll be in room two,” I said ushering Francesca in that direction. “You go ahead, get your things and meditate,” I told Eclipsys. “Or whatever it is you do to prepare.”

  Eclipsys said nothing as I pushed Francesca down the hall, a parting as brief as our greeting, and for that I was grateful. She knew who I was and what I could do, but as we weren’t friendly, she revealed nothing. Sometimes, I swear, it paid to be a bitch.

  “You’re being weird,” Francesca observed as I shut the door behind her. She sat, removing a compact to touch up her flawless face. “Weirder than usual,” she said absently, perusing the small mirror for her reflection.

  The room was disheveled, a mess of maps and papers. The rich blue hue of the tall walls seemed to press inward, making the already small space seem stifling.

  Eclipsys entered a short time later carrying a sheet of paper. “It is a chart of this year’s summer solstice,” she explained, drawing out the words with her concocted accent. Her heritage was equally indiscernible; she could have passed for Asian, Indian or Hispanic.

  “I don’t know if you remember,” Francesca began. “But the last time I was here you said that I was missing something, something I needed to progress.”

  Eclipsys nodded thoughtfully, setting her dangly earrings to wobble back and forth. “Yes,” she encouraged, absently fingering the chart. “What is your question? Why did you come?”

  “Well there’s this guy,” Francesca explained. “He asked me to marry him. I like him a lot, but we’ve only known each other for a short time. I just want to know if maybe he’s that thing you were talking about.”

  A few weeks ago she’d been hoping it meant Reed Wallace, though a few weeks ago she also denied believing in psychics.

  Eclipsys creased her brow, a look of interest. But she wasn’t interested, not
really. She kept up the act, listening to Francesca before referring to her chart. “Well, Uranus is nearing an alignment with Pluto which is a planetary cycle of change. Of course the alignment between Jupiter and Neptune indicates a more spiritual aspect of change. But one could certainly interpret marriage as a spiritual union,” Eclipsys hedged.

  She couldn’t possibly be encouraging Francesca.

  “These dynamics make for a fascinating time,” Eclipsys continued, giving her chart a tiny shake. “One in which we must let go of our old philosophies, let go of our outdated mindsets, move past what hold us back and accept new possibilities, new opportunities. Change is upon you, Francesca.”

  Francesca would be married by week’s end at this rate.

  “The Mayan apocalypse was an astrological prediction too,” I argued. They gave me matching looks. “I’m just saying...”

  “You are still a skeptic?” Eclipsys needled. “Even after our last meeting?”

  “You were totally right,” Francesca said, misinterpreting the slight. “Adelaide won’t talk about it,” she whispered confidentially. “But after she went to this park in Brunswick they found two dead bodies there.”

  That shocked Eclipsys, who stared at me with renewed interest. I could have groaned, knowing Nancy was sure to hear about this later.

  “You know what,” I said to Francesca. “You have a lot to think about. Let me take this,” I added, grabbing her purse. “I’ll go pay Eclipsys at the front desk while you digest everything you’ve learned.” She didn’t question my bizarre behavior (I never offered to do anything for anyone) which just went to prove how preoccupied she was.

  Outside the door I dragged Eclipsys down the hall and whispered furiously, “What the hell are you on about? You can’t encourage her to marry some douche bag she’s only known two weeks.”