The Haunted (30 page)

She didn’t say anything, and for a minute I thought the old phone had given up the ghost. Finally, she came back on. “Mmm-hmm, okay. That’s fine, Abbey.”

There was more laughter, and she laughed too.

“What’s going on, Mom?” I said. “Are you having a party or something?”

“What? No. I just have some company over for coffee. See you at six.”

I hung up the phone and rolled my eyes at Uncle Bob. “Mom’s schmoozing again. Hope there’s no wine involved.” His booming laughter followed me as I started to head out to the customers. “Just wait,” I called back. “You haven’t heard the story about my birthday party yet.”

˜   ˜   ˜

Mom was about ten minutes late picking me up, and she drove with a lead foot the whole way home, telling me again and again how I had to hurry and change when we got there because we were running so late. I wanted to plug my fingers in my ears and scream.

When we made it home, she rushed into the kitchen, and I took my time heading to the stairs. “Maxwells will be here in ten minutes,” she called out. “Hurry, hurry.”

When I reached my room, I went straight for the closet. My hand automatically grabbed the first thing that was there, and I saw it was the pink shirtdress I’d worn when Aunt Marjorie had come over for dinner last year.

That would do.

Changing course, I brushed my teeth, detangled my curls, and put on some new deodorant. My ten minutes were close to being up, and I could hear car doors slamming outside. I got dressed quickly and slipped on some black sandals. My toes needed a fresh coat of nail polish, but I didn’t have time for that right now.

I ran downstairs, eager to see Kristen’s parents. It had been
months
. They were standing by the couch in the living room, and I halted on the third step down as soon as I saw them.

Mrs. M. looked… older. Her hair, once scattered with
fashionable gray strands—“stubborn streaks,” she’d called them—was now almost entirely gray. And her face looked gaunt, like she’d lost some weight. Mr. M. didn’t look as bad, but there were definitely a few new wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The stress of losing both of their children was clearly catching up to them.

Mrs. M. must have heard me approaching, because almost as soon as I stopped, she looked up. Her face broke into a smile. “Abbey.”

I flew down the stairs and threw my arms around her. “Mrs. M.!” She squeezed me tight, and I held on, overwhelmed with happiness. I reached out a hand to Mr. M., and he patted it, beaming at me.

“It’s
so
good
to see you,” she said, taking a step back to size me up. “Look how beautiful you are. How’s your summer going? I heard that you’re doing some extra-credit science work?”

“It’s great,” I said, leading her into the dining room. We sat down, and everyone else came in a second later. “I’m helping my uncle out, working at his ice cream store, and Ben, one of our classmates, is tutoring me for this science test I have to take before school starts. It’s a whole big thing.”
And you know the reason I left? That dead boy I was seeing? He’s real. And I love him.
I smiled at her and took a sip of water from the glass in front of me.

The doorbell rang, and I looked over to Mom. “Who’s that?”

She stood up quickly. “That must be the rest of our company.”

“The rest of our… ?” I glanced at Dad. “What company?”

“Oh, just some people that came over today for coffee,” Mom replied, going to answer the door.

I waited for Dad to explain, but all he did was shrug. The classic
I don’t know; ask your mother
shrug. I shot a look over at Mrs. M., expecting her to be just as curious as I was, but she was paying careful attention to the napkin in her lap. Almost like she was avoiding me.

Interesting.…

Mom reentered the dining room with a man and a woman behind her. They were both dressed in navy blue, she in a crisp business suit with a breezy red scarf styled artfully around her neck, and he in a navy polo shirt that went perfectly with his pressed khakis. They looked to be about Mom and Dad’s age.

“Of course you met my husband today, and the Maxwells.” Mom stopped for a moment and gestured across the dining room. Mrs. M. nodded at them, and the business-suit woman was all smiles. “And that’s my daughter, Abigail.
We call her Abbey.”

We call her Abbey.
What was I, a pet dog? I bristled, but didn’t have time to show my displeasure, because they were both coming my way.
Fast
.

“I’m Sophie,” the woman said, hand outstretched, “and that’s Kame.”

I locked eyes with Sophie, getting ready to shake hands, and noticed right away that her eyes were unusually colored. Clear and glasslike. Almost translucent.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and something tickled the edges of my brain. They looked vaguely familiar.

Sophie clasped my hand in a firm grip, and it suddenly felt like a million spiders went tap dancing along my spine. I shook her hand for the briefest of seconds and then pulled away, trying not to make it look so obvious that that was what I was doing.

Kame put out his hand. Everything in me
screamed
not to touch it, but I didn’t know how to get out of it, so I shook it briefly. “Kame,” he reminded me, and I nodded. His voice was deep and lilting; it almost had a musical quality to it. Come to think of it, so did Sophie’s.

Mom ushered Sophie and Kame to seats across from me, and as they turned to walk past, I got a whiff of something strange. Like burned toast, or dying ashes.

Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I caught myself and then smoothed out my features. Whatever perfume Sophie was wearing did
not
suit her very well.

Mom disappeared into the kitchen, then returned a couple of minutes later holding a large silver dish. “I hope everyone’s hungry. I made pork roast with cardamom mushroom sauce. And I also have meatball soup.”

“Personally, I can’t wait for the meatballs,” Kame said. “I’m sure everything else will be wonderful too, but meatballs are my downfall. They are…”—he kissed his fingers to his lips—“
delizioso
.”

Mom beamed a
huge
smile. “Well, I hope my meatballs live up to your high standards.”

Kame smiled back at her, and I rolled my eyes.
So
gross.

The pork roast moved steadily down the line from Kame to Sophie, and she waited until it was safely passed on to Dad before she said, “So Abbey, I assume you’re going to be a senior this year?” I nodded. “I hear the schools around here are just
fantastic
. The teacher-student ratio and academic courses—what an asset to this community. I’m sure that really helps with the value.”

Asset to the community? Strong academic courses? What were they, school-board officials?

“Oh, yes,” Mom raved. “And we have one of the highest secondary education continuance levels in the state. But of course, we are always seeking new and improved ways to help our students. One of our main goals this year is to encourage our local teens to become active in their community. Big brother/big sister programs, volunteer work with the elderly, community service to improve our parks…”

I gave Mom a double take. This was the first time
I’d
ever heard of any of those things.

“That’s so important,” Sophie agreed.

Kame nodded. “Strong community gives people a better sense of self.”

Okayyyy, so they’re… self-help gurus?
“How did you say you know my parents?” I asked Sophie.

“They knocked on our door at just the right time,” Mom replied. “The Maxwells were here, and we were discussing dinner, so it just turned into one big group meeting when we invited them in.”

“We were here to introduce ourselves,” Sophie said to me. “We’re with the new branch of Hotchkiss Realty.”

That explained their outfits, then.

I watched her closely while she went on to talk about real estate, studying her hair as she spoke. It was a bright red color
that was so vivid, there was no
way
it was natural. And as I looked closer, I could see little glints of pale blond peeking through here and there. Like the dye hadn’t been strong enough to cover up her original color.

Almost perfect, but not quite.

Dad handed me the roast, and I scooped some onto my plate, then passed it on to Mrs. M. I picked up a fork and stabbed one of the squares, then lifted it to my mouth. Just as I was about to take a bite, that burnt smell drifted up to me again.

I moved the fork closer and inspected the food. There weren’t any darkened edges. Sniffing again, I got just the barest hint of a smell this time. Everyone else looked like they were enjoying it.

I put the fork to my mouth again, forced it past my lips, and chewed. The taste was fine, if somewhat bland. I reached for another piece and discreetly smelled it.
Smells fine.
I shook my head, hoping to clear whatever was going on in there.

The second bite went down smoothly, and I relaxed. But every now and then I caught a brief trace of it. It was almost like I was tasting Sophie’s perfume.
Must be some weird scent-taste-association thing happening.

Conversation ebbed and flowed around me, with everyone keeping pretty much the same pace. Mrs. M. was a little on the
quiet side, but I think I was the only one who noticed. Eventually, the evening wore on, and Sophie and Kame were the first to say they needed to be going.

Sophie came over to Mrs. M., and they shook hands before she slipped Mrs. M. her card. “I know that you said you’re not ready to think about anything permanent yet, but when you are, call me. I’ll make sure you get top dollar for your house.”

Mrs. M. dutifully took the card and murmured a polite thank-you. I wanted to shake my head in pity for Sophie. She wasn’t going to get a sale out of the Maxwells. They’d
never
move away from Sleepy Hollow.

Dad and Kame were standing nearby, discussing a baseball game, and I heard Dad say, “So, Kame. That’s an unusual name. Family heritage?”

Kame looked over at me before he answered. “Yes. I guess you could say it runs in the family.”

Dad shrugged and then clapped him on the shoulder. Suddenly, Sophie appeared next to me, and Kame was right behind her. It kind of surprised me how fast he got away from Dad.

“We’re so glad we had a chance to meet you, Abbey,” Sophie said, her voice melodic and beautiful. She didn’t try to shake my hand again, and I was
extremely
grateful for that. She did, however, keep her gaze directly on me. Kame did the same, and
I felt a prickle of unease run up my spine. It was… weird and uncomfortable to have them both staring at me.

“Um, yeah,” I said finally, taking a small step back. “Nice to meet you, too. Good luck with your new real-estate branch and all that.”

Sophie’s gaze sharpened, and Kame smiled widely, revealing a surprisingly shiny and sharp-looking set of teeth. “Take care of yourself, Abbey,” he said. “Take very good care.”

T
HE
M
ISSING
P
IECE

And besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind?

—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

One week later I was sitting in front of my new laptop, working on my business plan. Scribbling down sentences that would hopefully be a part of my mission statement, I let my mind wander. It kept going back to that strange dinner with the real estate agents. I tried to figure out why they seemed so familiar. Had I seen them at the bridge dedication ceremony?

My cell phone rang, and I reached for it, glad for the distraction. “Hello?”

“Abbey? Is this Abbey?”

I didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes, who’s—”

“It’s Aubra Stanton.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Um, okay.” Or a stiff breeze.

“I got your number from your uncle’s office.”

“Okay.” Gee, I was being a real conversationalist here.

“Look, I need you to come cover the store for an hour.”

“But it’s Saturday night. I don’t work on Saturdays.”

Aubra exhaled loudly. “I
know
that, okay? I just need you to come in because I have to go take care of something. Your uncle’s not here. He had to go get another part for the freezer.”

My thumb moved back and forth over the volume button on the phone. “I’m not sure I can, Aubra. I’ll have to ask my Mom for a ride.” I felt lame for telling her that, but it was true.

“Please, Abbey?”

Something in her voice tugged at my heart strings.
Pushover.
“I’ll try.”

She hung up without saying thank you or good-bye, and I sighed. So much for a little gratitude.

Mom dropped me off at Uncle Bob’s with fairly little talk along the way, and Aubra was waiting for me by the door.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, the instant I stepped inside. I just looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She ignored it and paced
nervously in front of the door, stopping every now and then to peer out of it. I moved toward the counter and grabbed a wet washcloth to wipe up some spilled caramel sauce she’d
obviously
overlooked.