“Comparable in comic tone to books by Tim Federle, I ATE THE WHOLE WORLD TO FIND YOU is a snappy take on the enemies-to-lovers romantic trope. ”–School Library Journal.
Sparks fly at the local swim club when the manager orders Will, a snack bar chef with culinary ambitions, to cook for the club’s surly Olympic hopeful, Basil, who is furious when Will’s first special is a “Basil Rickey.” Challenged by their conflicting ambitions, Basil and Will clash—until they both learn the importance of breaking out of their lanes. SHORT STUFF is available now at interludepress.com or wherever you buy books!
At the Boston Book Festival, I couldn’t not bring home a new book! While exploring the booths, I came across a collective of self-published, independent authors. One of those authors was Meia Geddes, who struck me as kind and soft-spoken as she explained to me what the booth was about. I took a look at the books she had out, and I instantly fell in love with this book cover:
Now Available: A Trio of RomComs—SPRING IS IN THE AIR Digital Box Set
Enjoy three acclaimed romantic comedies for only $8.99 in our SPRING IS IN THE AIR digital box set!
Unexpected. Accidental. Predestined. In this digital collection, three critically-acclaimed authors of LGBTQ+ fiction celebrate love and the art of romantic comedy.
Lunch with the Do-Nothings at the Tammy Dinette by Killian B. Brewer
When Marcus Sumter, a short-order cook with dreams of being a chef, inherits a house in small town Marathon, Georgia, he leaves his big city life behind. Marcus intends to sell the house to finance his dreams, but a group of lovable busybodies called the Do-Nothings, a new job at the local diner, the Tammy Dinette, and a handsome mechanic named Hank cause Marcus to rethink his plans. Will he return to the life he knew or will he finally put down roots?
“… the point of the story is laughter, and Brewer shows a wicked facility with the pratfalls and plain speaking of the steel magnolias at the book’s heart.”—Publishers Weekly
Tack & Jibe by Lilah Suzanne
Willa documents a picture-perfect nautical life on Instagram, but when fans register her in anational sailing championship, she needs a crash course in sailing to protect her reputation. She gets help from champion sailor Lane Cordova, whose mastery of the sport is matched only by Willa’s ineptitude—and her growing crush on Lane isn’t helping matters. Can Willa keep her reputation afloat while taking a chance on love?
“This is a sweet story of two women learning who they are and finding love along the way. There are plenty of waves in the ocean to keep you turning pages and oodles of seaside charm. This is one of my favorites of the year so far.”—The Lesbian Review
The Luckiest by Mila McWarren
When memoirist Aaron Wilkinson gathers with his high school friends to marry off two of their own, he must spend a week with Nik, the boy who broke his heart. As they settle into the Texas beach house for the nuptials, Nik is clear: he wants Aaron back. “He’s coming hard, baby,” a friend warns, setting the tone for a week of transition where Aaron and Nik must decide if they are playing for keeps.
“[STARRED REVIEW] A strong supporting cast rounds out this solid and sizzling NA romance, which resonates with the amorphous time between finishing college and venturing out into the real world and the choices we make to be with the ones we love.”—Booklist
Details:This eBook package includes PDF, ePub, and Kindle (Mobi) files.
This past weekend marked the eighth anniversary of Interlude Press becoming real. After months of planning, our small business incorporated on January 1, 2014 and soon after, we announced our plans to publish novels from first-time authors making the jump from fanworks to professional publishing.
Some applauded us. Some didn’t. We saw more than a few comments forecasting our inevitable and immediate failure.
Eight years later, our books have received awards, starred reviews, and placement on annual “Best of the Year” lists. They’ve appeared on bestseller lists. They’ve been featured in TheNew York Times, NPR, and OMagazine. Authors have become reader favorites, and some have moved on to new stages. And ultimately, our books found a larger platform when we signed with a distributor that opened new doors for our books.
As Interlude grew, so did its benchmarks for success. And it became clear that to ensure the continued success of this company in an increasingly competitive market, we were going to need some help.
Other publishers recognized this, as well. We were approached by larger companies about possible acquisition. And one stood out from the others.
In Chicago Review Press, we found not just a new owner, but a familiar space committed to the catalog, the mission, the authors, and the brand of Interlude Press and Duet Books. Its publisher has expressed a strong commitment to keeping the brand intact and assigning editorial leadership to members of the queer community.
We take this step with great excitement for the future of Interlude Press, its authors, and their books. Throughout our months-long process, it became clear that Interlude has found a home that is committed to its future and respectful of its history.
We couldn’t be more grateful for the authors, editors, readers, bloggers, reviewers and more whose support and hard work have helped shape Interlude Press into the publisher it has become.
The three of us— Managing Editor Annie Harper, Art Director C.B. Messer, and Marketing-Communications Director Candysse Miller—have treasured this incredible ride and are thankful for your support and belief in our mission of helping readers of LGBTQ+ fiction find the love, triumphs, friendships, family, adventures, and the uplifting endings they deserve.
“It’s a book to be savored and enjoyed from the sweet, light beginning to the subtle middle notes, which culminate in a refreshing, delicious finish.” (Starred Review)
—Publishers Weekly
Now only $1.99 through New Year’s Eve at select e-tail partners!
Wine critic Thomas Baldwin can make or break careers with his column for Taste Magazine. But when his publisher orders him to spend a year profiling rising stars of California’s wine country and organizing a competition between the big name wineries of Napa and the smaller artisan wineries of Sonoma, his world gets turned upside-down by an enigmatic young winemaker who puts art before business.
It’s our biggest sale ever —we’re discounting 50% off EVERYTHING in the IP Web Store Thanksgiving through Cyber Monday!
This holiday weekend, we’re doing something we’ve never done before—slashing the price of everything—print, eBooks, audio, and merch—by 50 percent at the IP Web Store!
Look for great deals from reader favorites, or browse to discover a new-to-you author for as little as $1.00 for digital short stories and $3.50 for novels. Or stock your shelves with print books starting as low as $5.00 with special discounted shipping rates!
Not sure what to read? Stop by our Twitter this holiday weekend, where we’ll Rec A Book. Just tag us (at) interludepress with the genre or representation you’d like to read, and we’ll recommend a title!
Pre-Order Now Available! BOOK OF DREAMS by Kevin Craig
From the award-winning author of The Camino Club, a thrilling descent into the pages of a cursed book leaves a teenager racing against time to escape the BOOK OF DREAMS.
Gaige’s curiosity gets the better of him when he discovers a bookstore on an abandoned street where no bookstore should be. He steps inside and is immediately enthralled by its antiquarian sights and smells. But one book in particular calls to him. It isn’t long before he gets a bad feeling about it, but it’s already too late. The store’s aged bookseller gives him no alternative: once he touches the book, it’s his—whether he wants it or not.
The book leads Gaige on a horrific descent into the unknown. As he falls into the depths of its pages, he loses blocks of time, and his friends become trapped inside ancient cellars with seemingly no means of escape.
Gaige soon learns that the ancient bookseller is a notorious serial killer from previous century, and fears that he has fallen into a predicament from which he may not escape. When all seems lost, he finds the one person he can turn to for help—Mael, a sweet boy also trapped inside the book who didn’t fall for the bookseller’s tricks. Together, they race against time to protect Gaige from joining a long string of boys who vanished without a trace inside the Book of Dreams.
Kevin Craig is the author of several young adult novels. Their most recent title, The Camino Club, was the 2021 Silver Winner of the Independent Book Publishers Association’s Benjamin Franklin Award. Kevin is a five-time recipient of the Muskoka Novel Marathon’s Best Novel Award. As a playwright, Kevin has had twelve plays produced for the stage. Kevin lives in Toronto, Canada. As an avid explorer, they can also be found traveling the world with their significant other, Michael.
Now Available to Pre-Order! “Spring is in the Air: A RomCom Trio” Digital Collection
Unexpected. Accidental. Predestined. In this digital collection, three critically-acclaimed authors of LGBTQ+ fiction celebrate love and the art of romantic comedy.
Bundled to save on these critically-acclaimed romantic comedies!
MSRP:$8.99
Release Date: March 8, 2022
Details:This eBook package includes PDF, ePub, and Kindle (Mobi) files.
ISBN (EPUB): 978-1-951954-16-1
Lunch with the Do-Nothings at the Tammy Dinette by Killian B. Brewer
When Marcus Sumter, a short-order cook with dreams of being a chef, inherits a house in small town Marathon, Georgia, he leaves his big city life behind. Marcus intends to sell the house to finance his dreams, but a group of lovable busybodies called the Do-Nothings, a new job at the local diner, the Tammy Dinette, and a handsome mechanic named Hank cause Marcus to rethink his plans. Will he return to the life he knew or will he finally put down roots?
“… the point of the story is laughter, and Brewer shows a wicked facility with the pratfalls and plain speaking of the steel magnolias at the book’s heart.”—Publishers Weekly
Tack & Jibe by Lilah Suzanne
Willa documents a picture-perfect nautical life on Instagram, but when fans register her in anational sailing championship, she needs a crash course in sailing to protect her reputation. She gets help from champion sailor Lane Cordova, whose mastery of the sport is matched only by Willa’s ineptitude—and her growing crush on Lane isn’t helping matters. Can Willa keep her reputation afloat while taking a chance on love?
“This is a sweet story of two women learning who they are and finding love along the way. There are plenty of waves in the ocean to keep you turning pages and oodles of seaside charm. This is one of my favorites of the year so far.”—The Lesbian Review
The Luckiest by Mila McWarren
When memoirist Aaron Wilkinson gathers with his high school friends to marry off two of their own, he must spend a week with Nik, the boy who broke his heart. As they settle into the Texas beach house for the nuptials, Nik is clear: he wants Aaron back. “He’s coming hard, baby,” a friend warns, setting the tone for a week of transition where Aaron and Nik must decide if they are playing for keeps.
“[STARRED REVIEW] A strong supporting cast rounds out this solid and sizzling NA romance, which resonates with the amorphous time between finishing college and venturing out into the real world and the choices we make to be with the ones we love.”—Booklist
Release Date: March 8, 2022
Details:This eBook package includes PDF, ePub, and Kindle (Mobi) files.
“I’ve been waiting here for fifteen frigging minutes,” the man snapped, his face far too close to Olivia’s as she stood next to his table in the Keegan’s dining room.
“I know,” she said quickly. “And I’m sorry. We’re understaffed and trying to do things as quickly as we can, but I understand. Please let me comp you a couple drinks.”
The man narrowed his eyes as he clearly considered what else he could get out of her right now. “And these apps,” he said, gesturing at the plates in front of him.
Bret was going to yell at her for food costs. But the other option was to let this guy continue to yell at her and then put a nasty review online that Bret would yell at her for later anyway. So she forced a smile onto her face. “And the apps,” she agreed. “I’m truly sorry you’ve been waiting so long.”
The guy rolled his eyes as his embarrassed companion looked on. “Whatever,” he said. “Just bring the drinks over, my girlfriend’s been waiting way too long.”
Olivia’s eyes flicked over to the girlfriend, who looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. She grimaced apologetically to Olivia behind her boyfriend’s back, but didn’t say anything.
Olivia kept her face neutral as she made her way up to the bar. Hugh was there, chatting with a woman as he poured her drink. He looked up as she walked up and his smile faded. “Olivia,” he said. “What’s up?”
“We need a couple beers for that high top over there,” she said quietly, not liking the way the bitterness was seeping into her voice, but not caring enough to stop it. “I’m comping the drinks and the apps, so don’t ring them in. I’ll do it later.”
“The apps too?” Hugh asked.
She wasn’t in the headspace for a debate, so she just nodded. He clearly caught on, because he just nodded back. “I’ll bring them over,” he said.
“Thanks,” Olivia said. “I have to go do the two orders that are back there now. Woman in the booth over there has been watching me like a hawk since I brought out the apps for the first guy, so I think she might be planning to request a comp too.”
At the look on Hugh’s face, Olivia shook her head. “I know, I know they’re taking advantage of me. But Bret yelling at me for the food cost is way better than him yelling at me for driving away customers.”
Hugh nodded, though he still looked skeptical. “You’re the boss,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess I am. Whatever that means.”
With that, she started walking back toward the kitchen again, where she could see two more tickets hanging over the grill. She’d forgotten about the nachos going to the bar, even though she’d been the one to take the order.
Crying would just waste time. So instead, she pulled on gloves and thought about how if that guy ever came into her coffee shop, she could toss him out on his ass.
———————-
Hours later, Olivia walked into her living room and fell onto the couch, not even bothering to take off her jacket and shoes.
“Everything okay?”
It was two in the morning, why was Andrew possibly awake right now? Olivia opened one eye and looked over. He was lying on the other couch, Mia snuggled up against him.
Olivia sat up. “What happened?” she asked. “Is she okay? Teething’s been-”
“It’s fine,” he said softly. “She fell asleep watching The Lion King and I ended up falling asleep for a little bit with her on top of me. Just haven’t bothered getting up to put her to bed yet. As for my question?”
She sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Bollocks.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing new,” she said, adjusting on the couch. “I have a crappy job that I hate. What else can I say? It was another crappy night at my crappy job where my crappy manager calls to yell at me because our numbers are down. And our numbers are down because people don’t want to wait for our understaffed bar to serve them. Oh, and then they yell at me too.”
“Liv…”
Olivia looked over at his somewhat uncertain tone. “Yeah?”
“Listen, I don’t mean to pry. But is there a reason you haven’t been looking for something new?”
Olivia sighed. “Who says I haven’t?” she said. “I’ve been looking all over the place. But everything I’m finding either pays much less than Keegan’s or is at least an hour away. And I’m not going to commit to a two hour commute when I have free babysitting. I’m not throwing that on you or my mom.”
“That’s fair,” he said, shifting a little under Mia’s curled up form.
They sat silently for a moment. Olivia thought maybe Andrew had fallen back to sleep, but then he spoke.
“What would you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you didn’t have to worry about it. If you had your choice of anything in the world, what would you do?”
Olivia paused. “Honestly?” she asked.
“Honestly.”
“You know that old Limerick building just off Main Street?”
“The little brick one?”
“That’s the one,” she said. “It was a tea room for a year and a half about four years ago. The owner closed it down but still owns the building. If I could do anything in the world, I’d buy it off of him and open a coffee shop.”
Andrew looked a little surprised. “What?” she asked, trying not to feel foolish.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just - that’s extremely reasonable.”
“If you’re not a single mother on welfare.”
“Fair,” Andrew admitted. “But seriously.”
“It’s already owned by someone who’s made it clear they don’t want anything to do with New Winslow,” Olivia continued. “So I’ve made my peace with the fact it’ll never happen. But that’s what I’d do, given the option to do anything at all. Open up my own coffee shop. Sell light food and pastries, brew different drinks. Be my own boss. I’d love that.”
They sat quietly for another moment. “Alright,” Olivia said after a long silence. “Let me grab that baby from you. I’ll put her to bed.”
She walked over and pulled Mia out of Andrew’s grip. He sat up and stretched.
“Go get some sleep,” Olivia said. “Good night.”
“Night.”
She walked into her room and closed the door. Mia’s night light glowed pink beside her little cot as Olivia set her down. Then she pulled off her work clothes and got into her own bed.
A coffee shop. Something a little different from the general store or the House of Pizza. She could do whatever she wanted with the menu and hire whoever she wanted to work there. And no one would be breathing down her neck or backing her into impossible positions.
She fell asleep already dreaming of intricate drink orders and Hugh behind the espresso machine.
———————————————
The blaring sound of Noah’s phone was trying to pull him out of a heavy dream. He forced his eyes open and saw that he was laying on his living room floor, still in the clothes he’d been wearing last night.
The phone sat on the floor next to his head, still ringing cheerfully. Closing his eyes again, Noah slid a hand up and answered it. “Hmm?” he managed to grunt out as he put it to his ear.
“Noah?”
His throat felt like he’d been gargling glass shards and his wrist was throbbing as he held the phone to his ear. “Erin?” he choked out, opening his eyes and sitting up slowly. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. He sat up against the side of the recliner and rested his throbbing head on the arm. Sunlight was pouring in through the cracks in the window shades he hadn’t pulled up in weeks.
“Are you okay?” Noah murmured, closing his eyes again.
He couldn’t tell if he was hungover or still drunk. Probably a hellish mix of both.
“Yeah, Noah, I’m fine,” Erin said, but her voice sounded off.
He waited a second, pressing the fingers of his good hand into his eyes until spots appeared in his vision. Something important must have happened if she as calling. They weren’t the type of family to have casual chats.
“Are you okay?” Erin asked finally.
There was a weight behind the words that told him she wasn’t just making polite small talk. “I’m fine,” he said.
He glanced around the room for something to drink, even if just to soothe his jagged throat. The water glass was long empty and his stomach sank as he realized his flask had spilled on the rug at some point in the night.
“Listen…” she started, and even through the fog he could tell she was nervous. “I just want to check on you. I was talking to Olivia the other night-”
“Since when do you and Olivia talk?”
“Since when do you drink so much that your friends call me for help?” Erin snapped back.
The bile rose in Noah’s throat, hot and even more painful than before. “They’ve overreacting,” he muttered. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Erin asked. “Noah, they’re really worried about you.”
Noah laughed bitterly. “They need to worry about themselves and back off.”
His stomach flipped and he knew he was going to throw up in the next thirty seconds. “Erin, listen,” he managed to force out. “I’m fine. So back off. I don’t need Olivia worrying about me, I don’t need you worrying about me, and I sure as shit don’t need the two of you talking about me behind my back.”
Erin started to say something, but he was already about to vomit. “I have to go,” he said, then hung up and ran for the bathroom.
Roman wasn’t quite sure why they were wasting their time on things like meditation or cleansing. He knew those things were useful, certainly. But it wasn’t like he and Celine hadn’t been trying them all for the past fifteen years. If they were going to break something this overwhelmingly powerful, they needed to take it in a different direction. Like he’d told the others before, this had to be demonic. It was so powerful and so malicious that there was no other explanation.
Mental exercises and basil weren’t going to cut it here.
His hand was throbbing under the clean gauze he’d tied around it back at the town line. During the ritual, Roman had impulsively drawn the knife over his palm before realizing that there was really no reason the blood had to come from there. So then he’d proceeded to awkwardly light the candle one handed and try to focus on reciting the words through the hot pain radiating off the wound.
Either way, it was a sacrifice and maybe that would make things a little more potent. Celine always talked about how the intention and context were almost as powerful as the actual steps of the ritual during spell work.
The moon was nearly full, making it surprisingly easy to walk home without a flashlight once he got through the center of town. The House of Pizza had seemed to taunt him as he walked by, its dim security lights wishing Roman a nice three hours of sleep before he had to come in and start the day.
Shit, how was he supposed to pound out pizza shells with a bandage on his hand? Maybe he could convince Celine he’d done it in the yard or something. He’d rather not explain it at all, especially since the spell clearly hadn’t worked. But she’d know.
She always knew.
Ten minutes later, he was making his way up the walkway to their house. The windows were dark and he could see the dim pink light of the babies’ night light spilling around the shades of their bedroom window. He hadn’t seen them all day, had he? Maybe he could go sneak a kiss goodnight without waking them.
He missed them. He hadn’t spent enough time with them lately.
And if this didn’t work, there was a good chance he’d go a lot longer than a day without seeing them once they were adults and realized that a cursed small town wasn’t the ideal place to spend their own lives.
A cold wind brushed the back of Roman’s neck, far too icy for July, even at midnight. He whipped around, nearly losing his balance on the uneven stones of the walkway.
“Who’s there?” he snapped, voice rough.
He felt more than heard the quiet laughter. Then the flood light came on and he blinked in the sudden beam as the front door opened.
“Get on this side of the salt, Rome,” Celine called over, her voice oddly calm.
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He darted through the front door, careful not to kick the line of salt carefully spread across the entrance. She closed the door behind him, locked it, and quickly scribbled a sigil over it in Sharpie.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Roman asked, shivering
“He’s been trying to get in all night,” Celine snapped. “Where the hell have you been? I was trying to call you and you had no service.”
Before he could answer, she looked down and saw the bandage on his hand. She raised an eyebrow, then looked back up at him.
“So judging from the fact that the bloody bandage is on your palm and not somewhere sensible, I’m going to assume that you were at the town line by yourself.”
“I have to get this done, Celine,” Roman said. “It’s moving way too slow.”
Celine looked like she wanted to say something. He knew it’d be something about how he was getting too obsessed, that he was doing the same thing he’d gotten so mad at Iris for. But he cut her off before she could start.
“It might work,” he said. “And if it does, it’ll be worth it.”
“Rome, you haven’t slept a full night in weeks,” Celine said, and she suddenly looked more tired than irritated. “What good is it going to do if you give yourself a heart attack trying to solve this?”
“Celine, I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll go to bed now.”
“I’ll be sleeping out here on the pullout couch to guard the door,” Celine said.
“Then I will too.”
He kissed her on the cheek, then started walking toward Aidan and Abby’s bedroom. They were both peacefully asleep in their beds. Roman’s stomach sank the slightest bit as he saw the line of salt along their windowsill, but the room itself felt safe and peaceful. He gently kissed them both, then walked back out.
From the hallway, he could see Celine setting up the pullout couch. “I’m going to check on Jamie,” he called softly.
He didn’t hear her response as he started down the basement steps to Jamie’s bedroom. Again, there was salt carefully placed and he noted with approval that Jamie had clearly reinforced the salt lines on the narrow windows of his bedroom. As he walked into the bedroom, Jamie was asleep in bed, but stirred and sat up when Roman came in.
“Dad?”
“Sorry bud, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said. “There’s been a ghost knocking on the windows all night anyway. He can’t get in, but he’s being a dick.”
Roman frowned. “Language.”
“Sorry.”
“Would you feel safer upstairs?”
“Nah,” Jamie said, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve been practicing all the stuff Mom taught me. And she set up the wards down here.”
“If you change your mind, don’t hesitate. Mom and I will be on the pullout couch so we can watch the door.”
“I won’t,” Jamie said.
In the dim light of Jamie’s salt lamp, Roman saw Jamie frown. “What happened to your hand?” Jamie asked.
Roman looked down at the bandage now unraveling from his hand. “Made some mistakes with my own magic tonight,” he said.
“Are you alright?”
Jamie looked nervous, a swift change from the easy confidence Roman had just seen.
“Yeah, I’m fine, bud,” Roman said quickly. “Don’t worry about me.”
Jamie nodded, but didn’t look fully convinced. Roman leaned over and hugged him and Jamie reciprocated immediately. Maybe it was exhaustion, but Roman felt tears prick his eyes as his son gripped him.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, pressing a hand against the back of Jamie’s head. “It’s okay, I promise.”
He felt Jamie nod against him. “You sure you don’t want to come upstairs?” Roman asked. “We can lay out the couch cushions and set you up next to the pullout.”
Jamie shook his head, then froze as there was a slow tap on the window above them. Roman looked up. There was nothing to be seen in the darkness just outside the window, but a second later there was another deliberate tap.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Roman said. “He’s not getting in, you did a good job. But let’s get us all on the same floor for tonight.”
Jamie didn’t protest, just silently followed him upstairs.
Content warning for discussions of addiction and parental abandonment
Images via Canva)
———————–
Edie looked nervous as Cleo walked into the now-familiar apartment. “Everything okay?” she asked, lowering her head to give Edie a quick kiss.
“Yeah, everything’s great!” Edie said quickly. “I was just going to have some cheese and crackers. Want some?”
“Sure.”
“Go sit down, sit!”
Cleo yawned widely as Edie darted toward the kitchen and picked up the plate that was sitting on the counter. She’d spent last night at home, intentionally relaxing on one of her few nights off. But even after a full night’s sleep, she was still dragging.
Edie brought the plate over to the kitchen table and set it down. “Sit down,” they repeated. “I’m going to get a sparkling water. What can I get you?”
“A sparkling water sounds great.”
Edie moved toward the fridge, their usual confident movements almost jerky. Cleo frowned.
“I’m not trying to nag, but are you sure you’re okay?”
Edie turned around with two bottles in their hands. “I’m fine,” they said.
They sat down and handed one of the bottles to her. “Actually,” they said. “There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”
This was it. They were breaking up. It had been a good run, Cleo supposed.
Edie took a breath. “Would you be interested in moving in with me when your lease ends?”
Well, that wasn’t what Cleo had expected. Her silence must have lasted a little too long because Edie’s eyes widened. “I swear I’m not trying to be pushy,” they said. “I know you love your place. It’s just…”
“Move in here?” Cleo asked.
Edie shrugged slightly. “I mean, yeah?”
“But…I live in Boston.”
Maybe it was the shock of Edie’s invitation that was making her brain run so slowly right now. Edie’s face fell.
“It’s fine,” they said. “I just thought I’d offer…”
“No, no, I appreciate it,” Cleo said. “I swear! It’s just that - I’m not sure if I’m going to sign my lease for another year.”
“At your current place?” Edie asked. “Cleo, you’re working yourself to death to keep it.”
A flash of irritation sparked in Cleo’s chest. Were they really doing this again? “I know,” she said, aware of the defensive note creeping into her voice. “But it’s my home.”
“Forget it,” Edie said, waving their hand in front of them. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I knew you wouldn’t want to.”
“It’s not you,” Cleo said in a rush. “I really do appreciate it. It’s just really far from where I’m living now. And I’m not sure I’m ready to leave there.”
She took a breath. “When do you need an answer by?”
Edie smiled slightly and Cleo felt a weight lift that she hadn’t realized had settled. “Just when you decide whether or not you’re going to re-sign. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” Cleo said.
While the idea of moving made her heart hurt, the idea of living with Edie was definitely appealing.
——————————————————
Olivia considered hanging up as the phone rang once…twice…
“Hello?”
Erin Kelly’s voice was soft, with barely a trace of the strong accent in her brother’s.
“Hi, Erin? It’s Olivia Walker.”
“Olivia, hi! Um, how are you? Is everything okay?”
Olivia sighed. “No, actually. Erin, I’m sorry to call out of nowhere,” she said. “But have you talked to Noah lately?”
“I haven’t,” Erin admitted. “We haven’t really talked much in, god, the last few years? Not since Dad died. What’s going on?”
Olivia heard her shuffling a little on the other end of the line, like she was doing something else as they spoke. “He’s…” Olivia hesitated a little. “Look, Erin, he’s drinking a lot. Like, a major problem a lot. He needs help and he won’t listen to us.”
Erica went silent for a moment on the other end of the line, all sounds of movement gone too. Olivia winced. Maybe this had been a mistake.
Finally, Erin sighed. “I guess I’m not all that surprised,” she said. “He was drinking a lot during my dad’s sickness. Not anything dangerous, but I thought maybe he was doing it to cope. But it’s gotten out of control?”
“It’s bad,” Olivia admitted. “He won’t talk to any of us and I’m getting scared. Do you have any idea what might help?”
“I feel bad, but honestly I’m not sure,” Erin said. “We’ve never really been close.”
Olivia’s heart sank, but Erin continued speaking . “Do you think it would help if I talk to him?”
“Maybe,” Olivia said. “He wouldn’t listen to me at all. And Cleo and Andrew have both tried too.”
“Oh, Andrew’s back?”
There was a slight change in her tone, a barely perceptible edge that Olivia caught anyway. To be fair, Erin didn’t have the same relationship with Andrew that she did. She only knew him as the man who hurt her brother.
“I’m at a loss,” Olivia admitted, intentionally pushing the conversation forward. “Do you think he’d listen to you?”
“It’s worth a try, I guess,” Erin said.
“I was wondering too…” Olivia started, then hesitated.
Erin waited patiently, clearly knowing where this was going. “Your mom…”
“If the cutting edge entrepreneur can be pulled away from her work for a few minutes, she might deign to call one of her children,” Erin said, the edge much sharper in her polite tone this time.
Olivia always hated delving into Erin or Noah’s relationship with their estranged mother. Noah generally changed the subject when their mother was mentioned, but Erin wasn’t shy about her disdain for the woman who had left them both behind. Having grown up with a father who called twice a year at most, Olivia understood.
“Do you have her number?” Olivia asked.
She never enjoyed talking to Miranda Kelly, but by this point she was willing to do it if it meant getting Noah the help he needed.
Erin set down the phone for a moment to rifle through her papers, then came back and gave Olivia the number.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, Olivia,” Erin said. “Listen, I really appreciate you calling me. I know Noah and I aren’t exactly close, but he’s my brother and I love him. I’ll try giving him a call tomorrow, alright?”
“That sounds good, thanks,” Olivia said. “He, um, quit the bar a few months back so I’m not sure he’ll pick up. But I know he’ll be around.”
“I’ll just keep trying until he does then.”
“Thank you. Alright, I’ll let you go.”
“Talk to you soon.”
Olivia hung up the phone and walked over toward the window, gazing out at the backyard. The potted plants that had appeared there at some point this summer were withered beyond repair at this point. Next to them, she could see the dirt clods on the ground where Noah had started digging and then stopped.
She missed him. It felt ridiculous to miss him when she could hear him moving around upstairs. But it was like the Noah she’d known all her life, the protective, generous friend she’d always felt safe with, was gone. And she didn’t know if he was ever coming back.
Andrew couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been this angry at Noah. All he’d planned on doing was bringing the garbage out to the side yard. But then he’d nearly tripped over Noah as the other man was sitting in the grass in the backyard, barely holding himself upright. The smell of whiskey coming off of him made Andrew’s eyes water and he’d stopped before he quite realized what he was doing.
“You know what you’re doing to Olivia, right?” Andrew demanded, standing over Noah. “There’s no way you don’t know. You’re not stupid.”
“She shouldn’t care,” Noah muttered, his gaze sliding right over Andrew and back up toward the darkening sky. “Tell her to stop caring.”
“Just like you did?” Andrew asked. “Because it’s so easy, right?”
He sat down next to Noah, wincing a little as the wet grass soaked through the seat of his pants. “Noah,” he started. “You need to stop. You’re hurting yourself.”
There, he’d said it. Maybe not as eloquently as he’d practiced in his head while he lay awake late at night. But he’d said it. Maybe hearing it from someone else would have some kind of positive impact on Noah right now.
Then Noah shrugged. “I really don’t care.”
He took a swig of whiskey from his ever-present flask. Andrew clenched his fist and took a breath, barely resisting the urge to slap it out of Noah’s hand. “You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?” Andrew snapped. “We’re trying to help you, all of us are. Why won’t you take the fucking help?”
“I don’t want your help!”
Noah tried to stand and immediately fell, landing on his back. “I don’t…need your help,” he said, breathing heavily.
Andrew let out a bitter laugh. “No?”
“No.”
Noah pulled himself back up into a seated position and shook his head. “You think I haven’t tried?” he asked, looking at Andrew with bloodshot eyes. “You think I didn’t try to stop? I’ve tried so many times and I can’t do it.”
“Then let us help you,” Andrew said, his voice shaking with the urgency he suddenly felt.
This might be his in. If he could keep Noah focused on this, on the idea of stopping. This might be his chance to get something past Noah’s booze-soaked barriers.
“You don’t get it,” Noah said. “There’s no point, nothing’s going to change.”
He shook his head and reached for his flask again. He unscrewed the top, then paused and looked at Andrew. “You know the only reason I haven’t killed myself?” he asked, voice soft.
Andrew’s stomach dropped. “Noah…” he started.
“Don’t look at me like that, I’m telling you why I haven’t done it, not that I’m gonna,” Noah said, waving a hand. “The only reason I haven’t killed myself and just gotten it over with is because I own the house. It’s all in my name and the mortgage isn’t going to be completely paid off anytime soon.”
Andrew stared at him. Noah sounded so reasonable, but nothing about this made sense.
“I know Liv can’t cover it,” Noah continued, sounding almost sober. “And if the bank takes it, she and Mia will be homeless.”
“Christ.”
Noah laughed and took a shot. “Might as well stick around until that’s taken care of, right?”
Andrew had no idea how to respond to that. But Noah stood up and stumbled away before he could figure it out.
————————
“I need to talk to you two.”
Olivia and Cleo were sitting in the living room. Mia was watching some kids’ movie while they sat on the couch, half watching and half scrolling on their phones. Both looked up when Andrew walked in.
Olivia noticed he looked paler than usual. He’d just been taking out the trash, what could have shaken him like that?
“Listen,” he said. “I spoke to Noah-”
“Oh?” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow. “You actually saw him?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Liv, I’m really concerned. Not just about the drinking. I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself. Intentionally.”
Olivia felt her irritation sharply pushed aside by something else. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, he was talking about killing himself. But, not exactly. More in a, why he hasn’t done it yet sort of way.”
“Did he say why not?”
She felt awful wording it like that. This was suicide, not passing on a job opportunity. Beside her, Cleo looked like she might throw up.
Andrew hesitated for a second. Then he sighed. “I doubt he wants you to know but I also doubt he even remembers telling me. He said he hasn’t done it because the bank might take the house and kick you and Mia out.”
She could hear a dull screaming in her ears and briefly wondered if it was coming from her, if she was actually screaming, and if Andrew and Cleo could hear it.
“What do we do?” she finally asked.
He sat down on her other side. “I have no bloody clue. I’m scared, Liv.”
“Me too.”
——————
“So what options do we have?” Andrew asked.
It was about an hour later. Mia was in bed, chatting with her stuffed rabbit. Her cheerful babble floated through the open door of her bedroom, a distinct contrast to the tension in the living room.
Cleo sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Considering all of us have approached him and it hasn’t worked, I’m guessing an intervention wouldn’t work either. And if we can’t even get him to talk to us, he’s not going to listen if we try to get him into therapy.”
“What about his family?” Andrew asked. “Has anyone heard from Erin? Or his mom?”
“Considering his mother didn’t come back when his dad was dying, I don’t think she’s going to care that her son has a drinking problem,” Olivia said, her voice more bitter than Andrew had ever heard it. “We could try, but my guess is she won’t have anything more than a passing thought to give.”
“Maybe Erin though?” Cleo said. “I know they’re not that close, but…”
Andrew vaguely knew Noah’s older sister. She was about ten years older than Noah, so she’d moved out of New Winslow well before Andrew and his family had arrived. He knew that they got along well, but they didn’t seem to have a particularly strong bond.
“It might be worth trying,” Olivia agreed.
“And maybe…maybe his mom?” Cleo said. “I don’t know. Maybe she’d care more about her kid than her ex husband, you know? She’s not a bad person.”
Neither Olivia nor Andrew jumped to agree with her. After all, Mrs. Kelly had left her family and moved halfway across the country, keeping minimal contact with her children and no contact with her ex-husband. Olivia’s own father had done essentially the same thing so Andrew wasn’t surprised by Olivia’s apparent skepticism.
“I’ll run it by Erin and see what she thinks,” Olivia said.
She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. “This really sucks, you guys.”
Tuesday night and Cleo and Edie were stretched out on the couch in Edie’s living room. Tonight was Cleo’s night off and originally Edie had been planning to drive out to Boston to see her. But then Cleo had wanted to to go New Winslow and stop in on her mom to see how things had gone with Dr. Degas. Of course, nothing had happened. Her mother had just not called after she promised she would. The visit had been short and tense and Cleo had left feeling worse than she had when she’d arrived.
But now she was here with Edie and it was cool beneath the humming air conditioning unit. Edie’s hair smelled like herbs and strawberries and Cleo was content to just close her eyes and drift a little as Edie hummed softly to the soft music playing off of their laptop.
“Did I tell you we got a few gigs set up in Maine?” Edie asked suddenly.
“No,” Cleo said, opening her eyes and smiling up at Edie. “That’s great!”
“Yeah, a couple small sets at Tyler’s friend’s brewery, then a bar in Old Orchard Beach afterwards. We’ll probably spend the night up there if you want to come with us. Either to play or just to hang out, whatever you want to do.”
“When is it?”
“Two weeks from tomorrow.”
Cleo grimaced. “I’ll probably have to work since rent’s due. But thanks.”
Edie didn’t say anything for a moment. Then they sighed like they were going to say something and thought better of it. Cleo considered asking, but if Edie didn’t want to say it, she wasn’t going to start the discussion. After an hour of dragging information out of her mother, she wasn’t in the mood to start it with Edie.
“That’ll be nice. I’m glad you guys are getting gigs.”
“The tour was definitely a boost,” Edie said. “Of course, in more ways than one.”
They dropped a kiss on Cleo’s forehead. Cleo smiled up at them. “Mmm, it really was.”
“Have you written anything new lately?” Edie asked. “I was thinking maybe we can set something up around here. I’ve gotten a few emails from places I’ve played at before that would be interested.”
Cleo’s stomach dropped a little. “No,” she admitted. “I haven’t touched my guitar in months. I’ve just been too busy.”
Again, Edie looked like they wanted to say something. And again Cleo let the moment go.
“Maybe in your hometown? Doesn’t your friend run a bar or something?”
If Edie had been trying to steer the conversation somewhere safer, they’d failed. “Edie, listen,” Cleo said, sitting up straight. “You know I was telling the truth about the curse, right? The one that literally traps people in New Winslow?”
Edie shrugged a little sheepishly. “It was just an idea,” they said. “I want to meet your friends, Cleo. And your mom. I feel like there’s this big part of your life that I haven’t seen yet.”
“I know,” Cleo said. “And I want you to meet them too. But not in New Winslow. I’m the one that’s obligated to go there, not you. I already got one person trapped, I’m not getting you stuck there too.”
“How haven’t you gotten stuck?”
Cleo sighed. “Luck, I guess?” she said. “But I mean it, Edie. Every time I go there, I’m risking getting stuck.”
“Would it be so bad?”
Cleo turned over and stared at Edie, who looked genuinely curious. “What?”
“Being in your hometown. Would it really be so bad?”
“The town that I hate?” Cleo said in disbelief, sitting up on the sofa. “Where I never felt fully at home or welcome? Yeah, Edie, yeah, it would really be so bad.”
Edie lowered their eyes as they sat up too. “Sorry,” they said. “I didn’t mean to push. I just thought, how bad could it be if your friends and family are all there? And it beats working yourself to death to live in Boston, right?”
“Boston’s my home,” Cleo snapped. “My friends made their decisions, but I’m not them. I don’t want to live there and I’m not going to. The only reasons I’m there so much are my mom and because it’s my fault Andrew is there. Once Andrew gets out and I can convince my mom to move closer to Boston, I’m never going back. I love Liv and I love Noah, but if they want to see me, they can leave their cursed town and meet me somewhere else. So I’m sorry if my decisions don’t make sense to you, but yeah, it’s worth it to me to pay extra to live somewhere I actually like.”
“I’m sorry,” Edie said quickly. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“You didn’t,” Cleo said. “It’s just…I feel obligated to be there. Not just for Andrew. But for him. And my mom. And I’m trying to balance that with what I need for myself. And it’s hard enough on its own without getting judged for how I handle it, you know?”
Edie nodded, face red and eyes downcast. “I’m sorry,” they said again.
“Me too,” Cleo said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I want you to meet my friends and my mom too. But I don’t want to put you in danger to do it.”
“I get,” Edie said. “I’ll stop being so pushy. I’m sorry.”
They sat silently for a moment. Cleo wasn’t sure how to proceed from here. Just pretend the fight hadn’t happened? Talk through their feelings? Neither of those sounded great.
“Do you want dinner?” Edie asked after a moment’s awkward silence. “I’ll order us some takeout?”
Cleo nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
Edie got up to get their phone and Cleo sat up straight, shaking a little as the adrenaline drained from her body. She almost couldn’t believe she’d actually said those things out loud. Did she really think her mother would move closer to Boston after a lifetime in New Winslow just because Cleo wanted her to? Should she be looking into assisted living facilities? Of course, she couldn’t do anything until her mother actually saw Dr. Degas and she was apparently never going to make that call. So anything Cleo wanted didn’t matter anyway.
Her own phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. There was a text from Olivia. Was she going to be in Fitchburg tomorrow? Liv and Mia had a WIC appointment over in Athol, did Cleo want to get lunch after?
Shit, had she accidentally pocket dialed Liv while saying all of that? Cleo knew it was unreasonable, but she flipped to her outgoing calls log to check just in case.
No, of course she hadn’t. It was just coincidental timing.
And she couldn’t anyway. She had to work. She’d see Olivia later.
The extra work was worth it for now. Soon she’d have a steady job and she wouldn’t have to spend every extra minute on the road.
“Thank you again, Iris. You’re saving me hours of aggravation right now.”
Iris looked up from the spray bottle she was capping off as Celine walked back out to the dining room. She shrugged a little. “No problem,” she said. “It’s my job.”
“Still, I appreciate it,” Celine said. “I was planning to do energy wards, then herbs and basically spend all night here after we close. Plus, you’re better at herb work than me.”
The small smile on the younger woman’s face made Celine even more glad she’d taken the money from petty cash to hire Iris for an hour. After the spirit - which they had all but confirmed was Roland - had gotten in, she had prioritized protecting the place from him again. Clearly Iris had been doing the same thing over at her shop for months now. She’d arrived with the exact solution she wanted to use and a plan that barely needed any adjusting.
While Celine had always liked Iris, she hadn’t actually talked to her for more than a minute at a time since last year when Iris had gotten over eager about the curse. While she knew Iris and Roman had put their grudges to bed, Celine hadn’t been quite sure where she stood with the other woman right now. But Iris had been nothing but professional since she arrived.
“Alright, start on opposite ends?” Celine suggested. “Everything should be accessible, just let me know if I forgot to open anything. Oh, and try not to get locked out. We don’t open for another three hours, so the doors will automatically lock when they close.”
Iris nodded and picked up her spray bottle. “I’ll ring the bell if it happens, but I’ll try to avoid it.”
She gave the spray bottle a quick test spritz and a cloud of vapor came out. Celine caught the familiar scent of rosemary and bay and was once again grateful that Iris had opted for water over smoke cleansing.
Iris headed toward the other end of the dining room while Celine walked toward the back office. She sat down in the desk chair and closed her eyes, trying to relax enough to start the visualization exercises she needed to do in order to set the energy wards. The large rose quartz crystal she’d left here the past few nights had spent last night charging in the light of the full moon. She could feel the slight thrum of its energy as she rested her hand on it and began channeling her own energy into it.
It wasn’t long before she was in the zone, that trance-like state that made it easier for her to visualize the energy connecting her and the crystal. With one last gentle breath, she opened her eyes and stood up. She picked up the quartz and walked back toward the storage room.
New Winslow House of Pizza thankfully only had one floor. Usually, she and Roman grumbled a little about that because it meant the storage space was minimal. But this morning she was grateful she didn’t have to craft a two story bubble of energy on a few hours’ sleep. Roman had gotten home around one last night and his jittery energy had kept her up even after he had finally fallen asleep. So more of this morning’s protective energy was fueled by coffee than she cared to admit.
An hour later they were finished and she and Iris were seated at the first table in the dining room, splitting the pack of Danishes she’d picked up at the general store on the way here. “I think it worked,” Celine said. “The air feels calmer than it did even this morning when we got here.”
“Good,” Iris said, wiping a bit of icing off the side of her mouth. “I recognized the energy as soon as I got here. It was faint, but that was definitely Roland.”
“Any signs of him around your place since he was here?” Celine asked.
“None,” Iris replied. “My wards are pretty strong, but they’re not as good as I want them to be. So I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“Let me know if you want to do something like this for your shop,” Celine said.
“Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
“Speaking of cleansings and your work,” Celine started, taking a second Danish from the box. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Olivia Walker.”
“What about her?”
“Have you talked to her about her ability?”
This piqued Iris’s interest. “Olivia?” she said. “What ability? I mean beyond keeping Keegan’s open. That’s supernatural in itself.”
“She’s a medium.”
Iris’s eyes widened. “No way!”
“Or at least she could be if she decides to focus on that talent. She told me she’s been seeing spirits since last winter.”
“This town just breeds us, I swear,” Iris said with a laugh.
“Cursed town in the middle of New England?” Celine said. “I’m surprised there’s not more.”
“So what’s her plan? Do you know?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Celine said. “She told me the other night that she wants to learn how to use it. She’s been helping spirits as best she can, but she wants to find out if professional mediumship is something she’d want to do.”
“I could bring her along on a case,” Iris said thoughtfully. “I’ve got one going at The Countess that seems pretty cut and dry.”
“I told her I’d talk to you, so I’ll get you her number before you go,” Celine said. “And I also want to hear about this Countess case.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait. That’s the one in Petersham isn’t it?”
Celine knew she was acting like an overexcited child, but the Petersham bed and breakfast was a looming presence that had fascinated her for years. “Hang on,” she said, picking up both of their coffees. “If you’ve got time, let me refresh your drink. Then I want details!”
Olivia stood in line at the New Winslow House of Pizza, wondering if this was a mistake. It was one thing to talk ghosts when neither of them were working and both in a neutral place. It was an entirely different thing when she was invading Celine’s workplace.
Not to talk right now, she tried to reason with herself. To ask if it would be alright to talk later on. And she didn’t have Celine’s phone number, after all. So this was the only way she could reach her.
Plus, Mia loved pizza. So this was a convenient excuse to pick up pizza for dinner for the two of them and whichever friends happened to be around. Andrew was likely to be there if he wasn’t at Iris’s. Cleo tended to be in town a little more these days, maybe she’d drop in. And Noah…
She’d rather just not think about it.
She rolled Mia’s stroller back and forth absently as she waited in line. Mia chewed on her fingers and reached for the brightly colored chip bags on the rack beside them.
“Olivia, hi!”
Roman was running the cash register when she reached the front of the line. “Hi,” she said, trying to push down her nerves.
He leaned over the counter and smiled at Mia. “Hi Mia,” he said, waving. “What can I get you two?”
“Um, two large cheese pizzas please. And an order of fries. Um, small.”
Roman punched the order into the register. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it. Um, to go.”
He took her credit card and ran it through the machine, then handed her a receipt and a pen. “I actually was wondering if Celine is working tonight,” Olivia said as she scribbled down her signature.
“No, she’s home with the kids,” Roman said as he picked up the receipt and slid it under the counter. “Why? What’s up?”
“I just had a couple questions to ask her,” Olivia said, suddenly conscious of how much she was shifting around.
“Sorry,” Roman said, and he looked like he meant it. “Anything I can help with?”
“No,” she said. Then glancing around, she added in a lower voice, “It’s, um, ghost related?”
Olivia cringed, waiting for Roman to roll his eyes. But instead, he just nodded.
“Seems to be the theme of the week,” he said.
He pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen and handed them to her. “Give me your number and I’ll pass it on to her.”
“Thank you so much,” Olivia said, writing down her phone numbers. “I don’t have cell service all the time at home so I put both my cell and landline.”
“Perfect, I’ll give that to her tonight.”
Roman tucked the paper into his pocket. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Nope, thanks.”
He smiled broadly and for a second, she was almost flustered. She smiled back, then took her copy of the receipt.
“Give us fifteen minutes on the pizza,” Roman said. “I’ll call you up.”
—————————————————
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Shit, she’d thought Edie was asleep. Cleo quickly wiped her eyes and looked up at Edie, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, squinting in the dim light. “Nothing,” she lied.
Even she wasn’t able to convince herself that it sounded real and not like she’d been crying for the past half an hour.
Edie stepped into the room, their sheer bathrobe shifting over the sleep shorts and tank top they’d worn to bed. They wrapped their arms around Cleo, who closed her eyes and leaned against Edie’s warm stomach.
“Cleo,” Edie said softly, running a hand through her hair. “What’s going on?”
She sighed and sniffed. “It’s just…I’m so tired.”
She half expected Edie to try to bring her to bed at such an obvious statement. But instead they let go and pulled out the chair next to Cleo. They sat down, gripping Cleo’s hand.
“You’re working too hard,” Edie said.
They said it neutrally, no trace of judgment or pity. Cleo nodded. There was no point in denying it.
“But I have to,” she said. “I quit my job and I can’t find another one. If I don’t work as much as I do, I’m going to get evicted.”
“I know.”
“And I’m spending every hour I’m not here or at my mom’s working shifts. And when I’m at my mom’s, I’m too stressed to enjoy our time together and we just fight over her memory anyway. And Andrew’s still stuck. And every time I go there I risk getting stuck too. I don’t know what to do, Edie.”
“How much time is left on your lease?”
That wasn’t what Cleo had expected to hear. She thought for a second. “It’s the end of September,” she said. “So a little under three more months.”
“Would you consider going somewhere else?”
“I don’t think there’s anything cheaper in Boston, honestly.”
Edie was silent for a second. Cleo sniffed. Her eyes were still stinging a little, but she felt like maybe she was done crying for now.
“I guess I just keep applying for jobs,” she said. “This is temporary. I just have to suck it up for a little while longer.”
“Hopefully something comes along soon,” Edie said.
They leaned over and kissed Cleo softly on the temple. “I want to help,” they said. “Cleo, you mean so much to me. I know it hasn’t been that long, but anything I can do to make things easier, please just tell me.”
Cleo closed her eyes and squeezed Edie’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, unsure what else to say. “That means a lot to me.”
They sat quietly for a moment in the dim kitchen. Then Edie yawned. “Back to bed?” they asked.
“Yeah,” Cleo said. “Yeah, I think I could sleep now.”
Without letting go of Cleo’s hand, Edie stood up, then tugged Cleo to her feet. Cleo was a head taller than Edie, but Edie pulled her up easily. “Come on,” they said. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning before you leave. What time’s your shift?”
“I signed up for a ten am,” Cleo said. “But it’s in Boston, so I’ll have to head out a little early.”
“That’s no problem,” Edie said. “I’m working at nine-thirty, so we’ll head out the same time.”
Cleo’s stomach was still heavy at the thought of working tomorrow, but it felt a little lighter just being here with Edie for tonight.
Iris looked up from her notes to see Missy coming into the parlor with a sweating pitcher of water. She set down her pen on the side table as Missy picked up Iris’s empty glass, and refilled it.
“Thank you,” Iris said, taking the water gratefully.
Though the shades and the darkness helped cool the room, The Countess didn’t have air conditioning. This was the second pitcher of water Missy had brought Iris in the past two hours.
“I’ve been going through the witness statements you took,” Iris said. “I think you’re right about it being an intelligent haunting. I don’t know why it would be so repetitive in that case, but a residual energy wouldn’t have responded to either of these two witnesses the way that it did.”
“Ah, Ariana and Ben,” Missy said, glancing over Iris’s shoulder at the reports. “I took those statements. They’ve never met each other, come to think of it. They come in at different times of year from entirely different countries. But the accounts line up with my own experience up there.”
“I haven’t gotten to yours yet,” Iris admitted.
“Well, if you don’t mind a quick iced tea and pastry break, let me give it to you directly,” Missy said with a smile.
She walked out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a tray loaded with cookies and two iced teas. Flashing Iris a grin, she set the tray down and sat in the antique chair across the table from Iris.
“So it’s not much different than anything you saw in Ariana and Ben’s reports,” Missy said. “But it was, oh, two years ago when I first saw the apparition? It was upstairs on the top floor. I know you haven’t been up there yet, but there’s this long hallway with several rooms that are generally closed off to the public. The spirit looks shadowy, at least when I was there. Human-shaped, but misty, like it’s not fully there. It walks the hallway in a steady pattern, starting at the window at the end of the hall, that great stained glass one? It starts there, then turns, walks down the hall to the third door, and walks through there and vanishes.”
Iris was digging through her notes for her pen, but Missy put a hand on hers to stop her. “Don’t worry, it’s all in the report,” Missy said, nodding toward the stack of papers.
Iris picked up her tea and took a sip, nodding for Missy to continue. “I saw it for the first time two years ago, but I’ve seen it at least twice since then. And Anna’s seen it as well, though she tends not to go up there as much. She’s got knee problems, you know? We’ve got the lift, but she hates it. But if it was just that, I would think it’s an energy recording and leave it at that. It all fits. The house is old and the building materials are local. The original owners were a wealthy family in New Winslow who lost a child before selling the building. There’s so much energy built up within these walls, I’m sure you can feel it.”
“Yeah,” Iris agreed, tracing a line along the condensation on her glass.
The energy she’d felt the other day was just as strong in the parlor she sat in now, that electrical humming just along the edge of her consciousness.
“So I’ve tried treating it like a residual haunting,” Missy said. “We’ve tried cleansings and blessings. But then last year, Ben requested one of those top floor rooms to work on his novel. He said the vibes were good in there. We normally just use them for storage, but he’s a good customer and we trust him. So he spent the night in one of the other rooms, not the one the spirit goes into at the end of its rotation, but nearby. The next day he told us how he spent the evening communicating with the spirit up there. Nothing in depth, but requesting signs of its presence. Knocks and flickering lights, you know? And they were consistent enough that both Anna and I agreed that it sounded legitimate. Obviously we needed more evidence, but within two months, Ariana came in with the same statement after going up there to record a special for a web series. So after two similar reports, I went up there with my spirit box and did some testing. There’s definitely an actual presence in the house, not just a repeating recording.”
“I wonder what it is that makes the ghost so stubborn about staying,” Iris said, her mind already on the possible approaches she could take.
The spirit box was certainly a consideration, though she’d never actually used one before and heard they got mixed results. No, she’d probably be better off with her usual approach of using her abilities to contact the spirit.
“I’m not sure,” Missy admitted. “But there’s so many antiques and artifacts in this house. It could be the land. Before the inn was moved here, this land was a farm. So on the surface it’s nothing dramatic, but we haven’t been able to find any details. And neither of us are particularly psychic, at least not in any consistent way.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what makes you want to get rid of it?”
Missy looked up uneasily, as though waiting for the spirit to get offended by the question. “It gets…touchy after interactions,” she said. “We’ll have a few days of things being thrown around or going missing. And if the interactions were all started on our end, that’d be different. But Ariana didn’t instigate anything, the ghost did. And Anna’s statement is in there as well, you’ll be able to read that. She tried not to communicate with the ghost, but it contacted her anyway, then proceeded to shatter several antique vases in some of rooms. So it’s starting to interfere with our customers’ safety and we can’t have that.”
“Completely understandable,” Iris said.
She shuffled through the papers until she found both Missy and Anna’s statements, then pulled them out and placed them on the top of the pile. “I’ll take a look at these before I go,” she said. “Then I’m thinking I’ll do one more quick daytime visit to get a feel for the affected area before I try to interact with the spirit.”
“Perfect,” Missy said.
She stood up. “I need to get back to work, but I leave the cookies with you.”
Before Iris could protest, Missy ducked out of the room, leaving her alone with a tray stacked with sweets.
It was Hugh’s third week at Keegan’s and already things were running more smoothly than they had in months. Olivia knew she should feel some sort of conflict about this, like maybe she’s being disloyal to Noah by being so enthusiastic about Hugh. But honestly, Hugh was a huge upgrade. He was sober, nice to her, and actually did his fucking job. She knew she didn’t have to go home every night worrying about something going horribly wrong tomorrow.
So even though the food order came late (and incorrectly) and Bret had left a message in the communications book saying that the bathrooms need to be cleaned and sanitized every hour - with no excuse, including short staffing - she was still feeling confident.
The customers seemed to like Hugh just fine too. One woman had pulled Olivia aside and asked what had happened to Noah. Olivia hadn’t quite lied, just said he quit without elaborating. The woman had accepted that answer without question, though Olivia could see the concern in her eyes.
But for the most part, everything involving Hugh was going great. He was a large man who moved with grace behind the bar, clearly comfortable in his skill and knowledge. He’d chat with the customers and more often than not, Olivia found herself lingering just a little longer than usual before going back to the kitchen. One time he busted her hanging around and flashed her a wink. On one hand, it was such a Noah-like move that her stomach clenched. But on the other, that clench was quickly replaced by butterflies.
That was the only downside to Hugh. He was cute. And warm. And friendly and charming and good at his job and fun to talk to and oh no, she was so screwed. The last thing Olivia needed right now was a crush. And yet, here one was, settled in and making itself at home.
Charlie was working tonight too. Rafaela had dropped him off and walked in with baby Edward in her arms. Five months old now, Eddie was all giggles and rolls. Charlie had been beaming when they’d come in together.
Now, a few hours later, he looked tired. He stood by the front door, leaning against the old wooden partition and wearing a black t-shirt with SECURITY written across the front. Bret had recently insisted that they get uniforms for the bouncers in his bars. Charlie hadn’t complained, though he’d raised an eyebrow at Bret’s first suggestion that the bouncers should also buy these shirts out of their own pockets. His silence had apparently been enough to get his point across and his size enough of an intimidation factor for even Bret, because that suggestion was quickly forgotten as Bret said that his company would be happy to buy these shirts for the sake of the business.
“Hey boss,” Charlie said as Olivia approached him. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” she said, shrugging. “Just another day, you know?”
“I feel that.”
“So, Eddie’s five months old now?”
“Just about,” Charlie said with a smile. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”
“Seriously,” Olivia said, leaning against the corner of the same partition. “I’m still not sure how mine is already one and a half.”
“Oh, you have a kid?”
Hugh’s voice came from behind her and she jumped and spun around. He held up his hands. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Just coming over to say hi. I didn’t know you had a kid.”
“It’s fine,” Olivia said, standing up straight. “Yeah, I’ve got a one year old daughter.”
“You got any?” Charlie asked.
Hugh shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “I want some someday but it hasn’t happened yet.”
“You married?”
Olivia mentally thanked Charlie for asking the questions she wanted to ask. While she and Hugh had talked plenty over the past few weeks, they’d kept the conversation light. She was almost certain he was single, but she hadn’t had the guts to ask.
“No,” Hugh said. “I was engaged at one point, but it didn’t work out. You?”
“Engaged,” Charlie replied.
“Nice,” Hugh said.
He turned to Olivia. “So you have a one year old?”
“Yeah.”
“Got any pictures?”
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, flipped to a recent photo, and held it out to Hugh. “She looks like you,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, I guess she does.”
“Lucky kid.”
Her face got warm at that. “So was that her dad that picked you up last night?” Hugh asked.
Charlie laughed as Olivia shook her head. “No, it was - what’s so funny?”
“Sorry,” he said. “But I assume it was either Noah or Andrew that picked you up last night, so…”
“It was Andrew,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “And while he’s wonderful, he is not my kid’s father.”
Hugh looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to assume anything. You said a couple weeks ago that he was your roommate, so…”
“It’s fine,” she reassured him. “Nope. One kid, no husband. I’m living with a friend of mine right now.”
“No kid, no husband here,” Hugh said. “Or wife for that matter. And I live alone, but next door to my parents.”
Charlie looked meaningfully over at Olivia, who ignored him. Was he trying to take Noah’s spot as her bar wingman? Not that she needed anybody to do that right now. She was fine.
And she was saved by a party of six coming up to the door.
Hugh gave her a smile, then made his way back to the bar. Charlie kept looking at her.
“What?” Olivia demanded.
“Nothing,” Charlie said, still smiling. “Nothing at all, boss.”
———————————————————————
When Minnie laughed, she almost seemed like her old self again. So Roman wanted to keep her laughing.
“It was good,” he said. “I felt for Andrew, I swear! But it was kinda funny to see someone else falling on their ass at the town line for once.”
Minnie broke into peals of scratchy laughter that quickly dissolved into coughs. Roman reached over to the bedside table and picked up a fresh handkerchief, handing it to her and then looking away to give her privacy.
Maybe he should lay off the jokes for now.
It was early evening and she was in bed while he sat in the rocking chair beside her. An untouched piece of pizza sat on a plate beside her. He’d known she probably wouldn’t eat more than a nibble, but she’d requested he bring pizza for the first time in weeks. So he wasn’t about to say no.
“I do hope you get out.”
She was still smiling, but he could feel the smile sliding off his own face as she looked at him. She reached over and took his hand. “You’re still young and that boy is even younger. I’ve had a good life, but I want the two of you to get out while you’re still young enough to enjoy it.”
Roman’s stomach went cold, but she didn’t seem to notice any difference. He should be working harder to get her out of here while there was still time. What was he doing putting anything ahead of that?
“You too,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice the catch in his voice. “I want to get you out of here.”
Now her smile faded just a little. “Sweetheart,” she said softly.
She squeezed his hand, but it was almost too light for him to feel.
The plants were dying in their containers. Noah had picked them up at the hardware store a couple days earlier as a kind of peace offering for Olivia. She’d mentioned a while back that it might be nice to have a garden one of these summers. But after one attempt at lifting a shovel to plant them, his wrist had given out and Noah had given up for the night. The night had turned into three days in the July sun and now the plants were wilted and burned as they leaned against the woodpile.
He ran a finger over one of the leaves, ignoring the throbbing pain in his wrist as he did so. It was fine, the whiskey he was planning to drink as soon as he finished planting them would numb that. And it’d go away on its own soon enough. It had only been a few months since he’d fallen off the ladder and it wasn’t that bad of an injury in the first place.
Noah picked up the shovel and got to work, scooping rocky soil out of place. Sure, the plants were dying. But if he could get them in the ground now and get some water on them, they’d be fine. They just needed a little care.
He continued to dig, ignoring the way his head seemed to be throbbing in time to the pain in his wrist. Almost done. Three plants and then that would be finished.
The blade of the shovel hit a large stone he hadn’t noticed, stopping short and jarring Noah’s injured wrist. He dropped the shovel, swallowing down a scream of pain.
Nope, this wasn’t happening. He’d finish later.
Holding his arm as still as possible, Noah started walking toward his back stairway. As he passed Olivia’s deck, he saw Mia’s little face in window of the screen door. She had her fingers in her mouth and she was chewing them thoughtfully as she looked out into the backyard.
He waved with his good hand. She blinked at him, then turned and toddled away from the doorway.
Noah nodded to himself. He deserved that.
——————————————
Roman took a sip of coffee and tried not to shudder too openly. The coffee that the Congregational Church provided on meeting nights was terrible, but free. And he wasn’t going to turn down a free coffee. Not after the stretch of late nights he’d been working.
He’d read every book he could get his hands on so far. When that hadn’t worked, he’d swallowed his pride and emailed some of the scientists that had tried to get him out of New Winslow previously. Yeah, things had gone terribly with some of them, but others had left on decent terms with Roman. He’d heard from one so far and now he was just waiting to hear back from any of the others.
He knew he was burning out. Between working his usual amount at the shop, meeting with the others to discuss breaking the curse, doing his own outside research, and helping care for Minnie, Roman was spreading himself too thin. But none of it was more important than breaking the curse. If the curse was broken, he could get Minnie out of New Winslow one last time. She could see the ocean, smell the salt air.
And if she could do that, then maybe he’d be able to leave too. And he could stay in his children’s lives as they got older and inevitably left. That was worth a few sleepless nights, right?
He hadn’t mentioned anything about Minnie to the others on their little research team. Obviously Dr. Degas knew her situation, but he wasn’t about to try and discuss Minnie’s medical information with her. So instead he’d kept his after hours activities to himself, brushing off any questions about how he’d gotten the information he arrived with when they met up.
Roman yawned, covering his mouth with a polite hand. A woman a little older than him with stringy gray hair and a lined face sat down in the seat beside him in the circle. He nodded to her and she nodded back. He’d seen her here a few times, but was pretty sure she didn’t live in town.
If she didn’t live in town, he had no clue why she’d risk coming to meetings in New Winslow. But that wasn’t his business. She clearly knew what was going on and had decided the privacy was worth the risk.
His mind flashed to Minnie. He’d been at her house before this, sitting quietly in the living room watching the news on her tiny television. He’d tried to keep it light, commenting on the local interest stories they were playing while she dozed and occasionally chuckled at his commentary.
Tonight after the meeting he planned to read through the responses he’d gotten from the UMass professor who had tried to get him out of New Winslow eight years ago. His approach hadn’t been anything particularly useful back then. In fact, it seemed to be pretty steeped in folklore without any actual investigation behind it. But following up couldn’t hurt. Once the kids were in bed and Celine was out for the night, he’d have plenty of time. He just needed to use that time and actually…
“Welcome, everybody.”
Roman’s head shot up with a sharp breath. Had he seriously just dozed off at the beginning of an AA meeting?
Nobody seemed to have noticed as Gene Rodowicz, the group leader, started talking. He welcomed the newcomers, offered up the cookies and coffee at the back, and opened the floor to anyone who wanted to speak. Roman listened to the greetings and took a large swig of his coffee. Clearly he needed it.
He didn’t plan on talking tonight. Some nights he felt the need to talk, to air his frustrations and the struggles with sobriety that he kept even from Celine. But other nights he just wanted to sit and let everybody else’s words wash over him. It helped to know that, even though he stood out from everybody here as the town cautionary tale, he could have at least some companionship in this part of his life.
———————————————————
“Here, take this.”
Iris handed Andrew a rock the size of his fist. It was beautiful, a glossy black with hints of pinks and greens reflecting in the lamplight.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to inspect.
“Tourmaline,” Iris said.
He vaguely remembered the term from a conversation months earlier. Something about it being good for protection.
“Is it a curse-breaker?” he asked, moving the stone slightly to catch the light.
“It repels negative energy,” Iris said. “And attracts good energy. So in a sense, yes? I don’t think it’ll directly break the curse, but it might strengthen the effects of the other spells we’ve been trying. I think part of what we need is a little more support around the actual attempts, if that makes sense.”
He nodded, still inspecting the stone. It was gorgeous.
“Take it home tonight and charge it,” Iris said. “I’ve used it for protection before, but you’re going to want to charge it yourself.”
“And how should I do that?” he asked.
“Cleanse it first,” she said. “Not that I’ve done anything too wild with it, but you don’t want my energy interfering with yours. Running water works well. You can also use brown rice if you’ve got some.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re out, but I can take a look in the cupboard,” Andrew said.
“If you want to charge it, there’s a few different ways,” Iris continued. “Leave it in the moonlight or direct your own energy into it.”
The larger part of Andrew’s mind that screamed that this was all bullshit was trying desperately to get to the forefront right now. He looked at the stone in his hand. It was a rock.
But then, so was that crystal keeping Roland out of the shop. And then there were the wards that were charged with Iris’s own energy.
“What kind of energy?” he asked.
“Um, you could meditate with it,” Iris said. “Or sing? Or…”
Now there was a slight blush tinging her face. “Um, sexual energy is also particularly potent. You can…”
She faltered. He kept his gaze on the stone, trying to keep his face neutral.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I won’t be doing that.”
Iris looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. Andrew spun the tourmaline around a little, admiring the rainbow of colors flashing across it.
“Well,” he said finally. “I suppose I should go pick up some brown rice before the general store closes, yeah?”
There was something in the shop this time. Celine could feel it the second she stepped through the door, a sharp, piercing feeling in the air. The work area was still overheated from the oven, but there was a chill in the room that seemed to cut into her soul.
This wasn’t Roman copping an attitude or a passing specter on the wind. This was something very real and potentially dangerous.
“Charlie, hurry up, this order’s been waiting.”
Roman’s voice was frayed and angry, not that that was anything she wasn’t used to.
“Christ, give me a minute. I’ve got two others over here.”
Charlie’s retort, however, was very startling. Even at his most sleep-deprived new father state, he had never been anything but cheerful.
She rounded the corner in time to see Roman spin around and glare at Charlie. “Excuse me?” he snapped.
“I said let me finish this without you fucking hounding me.”
Roman’s eyes flashed and Celine could see where this was going. “Hey,” she said firmly, stepping in between the two men. “Stop it, both of you.”
“Celine, it’s fine,” Roman snapped, trying to step around her. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Oh, will you?” Charlie asked, standing up to his full height.
“Both of you,” Celine demanded, trying to keep her voice calm while also building up her own mental blocks. “Stop. Charlie, go sit in the dining room for a moment. Sit in a booth and count to a hundred.”
They both started talking at the same time.
“He’s got orders to-”
“Why do you want-”
She held up a hand and they both went silent. She turned to Charlie. “Just do it,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. “And while you’re doing it, close your eyes and visualize a wall blocking out outside influences. Picture it as clearly as you can. Focus on your breathing and with each breath, add another brick to the wall.”
Charlie looked lost for a second, but then understanding dawned in his eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” Celine said softly. “I noticed as soon as I came in. Visualizing exercises will be fine for now, but maybe ask your grandmother if she has anything you can keep in your car for the future.”
Charlie’s shoulders fell and he nodded. Then, with one last glare at Roman, he walked away.
“Celine, it’s the middle of the day!” Roman argued. “We can’t just have our only delivery driver go take his ten while there’s orders sitting here.”
“Yes we can,” Celine said, keeping her voice firm but calm. “And you and I are going out back for a moment.”
Before he could protest any further, she put out the bell and a small sign reading Ring for Service. Then she steered Roman out back, ignoring his protests as she kept a constant eye out for any other signs of the presence.
“Where the fuck is Charlie?” Roman demanded as she steered him into the office chair. “I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear to G-”
“Roman,” Celine said, gripping his hands and looking directly into his eyes. “This isn’t you. Or at least it isn’t all you. There’s something in the building and it’s influencing your emotions.”
“That’s ridiculous, we’ve never had problems like that in here. Did you finally lose your goddamn mind? Sometimes I think-”
“Would you ever normally talk to me like that?”
Roman stopped short as the color drained from his face. “Celine, I’m so sorry.”
She squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, I swear. But you need to get a grip on yourself so you can get it off you.”
He nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and then let it out.”
He followed her instructions, his body relaxing just a little as he did so. “You have to get some barriers up, Rome. I need you to visualize a wall. Something solid, something that can protect you.”
He nodded a little frantically, eyes still closed. “Relax,” she said, trying to keep her own voice calm. “It’s okay. You aren’t possessed, just a little…influenced. Charlie too. Keep breathing and keep picturing that wall, alright? Picture as many little details as you can.”
He kept taking deep breaths, letting them out in shaky exhales. “Okay, once you have it, imagine adding to it. Is it brick?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect. Add bricks to the wall. See it getting stronger. Know that it’ll keep out spirits and other forces.”
There was a ring from the bell. Roman opened his eyes. “Keep them closed,” she said, standing up. “I’ll go take care of it and check in on Charlie. You stay there. Keep building that wall. The realer it is to you the realer it’ll be to anything trying to get in.”
He nodded and she walked up front, where a woman was waiting to pick up her lunch salad. This transaction was done in all of thirty seconds, then she went out to the dining room where Charlie was sitting in the first booth. His eyes were closed and his expression focused.
“How are you doing, Charlie?”
He opened his eyes. “Good,” he said. “Good. It feels like something….loosened up if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
He laughed a little bitterly. “My Nene is going to kill me when she finds out. If she doesn’t know already.”
“We’ve been lucky here so far,” Celine said. “I’ve kept up kind of basic wards and charms. But something’s getting in, so we’ll need to be more careful. Are you feeling okay?”
He nodded. “I am,” he said. “I haven’t done those kinds of exercises since I was a kid, but I think it worked.”
“Good. You want to get back to work? Or do you need a little more time?”
“I’ll go,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to take all three of those deliveries if you’re good here.”
“We’re fine,” Celine said. “Roman’s doing the same thing you were doing, you two can kiss and make up when you get back.”
He laughed as he followed her back behind the counter. “And we’ll figure out some kind of protection for your car as well.”
“And my house,” Charlie said, grimacing. “God, that could have followed me home…”
She turned and took his hand. “Don’t dwell,” she said. “Just keep your wall up, try and stay calm, and we’ll get it sorted out.”
“Do you know what it was?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I just walked in when I saw you and Roman about to come to blows.”
Charlie let go of her hand and turned toward the delivery shelves. “Thanks for stepping in, boss,” he said, pulling the heating bags off the shelf. “I’d hate to have killed your husband.”
For a second, Celine felt like she should defend Roman. But there was no question Charlie could have annihilated him so instead she kept her mouth shut.
As Charlie was walking out, she returned to the back room. Roman was right where she’d left him.
“How are you?” Celine asked.
“Um, good. Calmer.”
He opened his eyes. “Celine, I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “There’s something going on.”
Roman shook his head and let out a long breath. “What happened?” he asked.
“Something’s in the building,” she replied. “Or at least it was. I could feel it when I walked in, some kind of new presence that was angry. Like it was made entirely of anger.”
“That makes sense,” he said. “I was angry. Even more than usual. Like, I’m tired and annoyed. But I was so mad at Charlie and the more I realized it, the madder I got. Like it was just feeding off my anger.”
Celine grimaced. “Yeah, that’s my thought too.”
Roman opened his mouth to say something, then stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t want to make accusations,” he said slowly. “Especially in something like this where I will willingly admit I know nothing. But Iris has been having issues with an angry spirit that’s trying to get back in her shop. Do you think maybe…”
“Maybe it decided to make a pit stop here?” Celine finished.
He nodded. “Maybe,” she said. “We’re close by, it could have needed an energy source. Or maybe it’s just lashing out. Either way, that does make sense.”
Her mind had been filled with tasks for the day when she walked in, mundane business tasks like ordering more inventory or phone calls with potential vendors. Now these chores were joined by binding rituals, psychic attacks, and how to handle it while still running a business.
And yet, that still felt normal to her. She’d lived in New Winslow for too long.
Cleo knocked on her mother’s door, two short, efficient raps. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned the knob and stepped inside.
“Hi Mom!” she called as she stepped into the tiny mobile home.
“Who’s there?” her mother called from the living room.
Cleo stopped with one shoe half-off, her moderately good mood already evaporating. “It’s Cleo,” she said. “Remember? We’re having lunch this afternoon?”
There was the sound of someone standing up, then her mother strode out of the living room. “Oh, right,” she said, hurriedly smoothing down her hair as she walked toward Cleo. “Of course I remembered, I just lost track of time.”
Cleo tried not to let her skepticism show on her face, but it was hard. Especially as she looked down at her mom’s face and noticed the lines and dark circles that hadn’t been there even a month ago.
“Well, I brought sandwiches!” she said, forcing cheer into her voice as she held up the bag. “Stopped at the general store on my way here. Sandwiches, chips, and seltzers. And a couple pieces of cake. Oh, and Mrs. Stevenson says hi.”
She kissed her mother on the cheek and moved past her in the narrow space that opened up into the kitchen. The apartment was messy, but not enough to be concerning. Just enough to be out of character for her mother.
“I owe her a phone call,” her mother said suddenly. “I said I’d call her…last Friday. Oh no.”
“She didn’t seem bothered,” Cleo said, pulling down plates from the cabinet. “She just said to say hi and send her love.”
Her mom smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. Cleo was tempted to continue her reassurances, but that was always a very careful line that could easily end with her mother begging off lunch and rushing Cleo out the door.
“So, how are you doing?” Cleo asked as they sat down at the tiny kitchen table.
“I’m fine,” her mom said.
Cleo waited for her to elaborate, but she just started eating her sandwich. “Have you taken any walks around the mobile park?” Cleo asked.
No answer. “I’ve walked around a little,” Cleo continued, her own appetite fading as she watched her mother take tiny bites of her food. “It’s nice. Lots of flowers out. Your neighbor’s got some beautiful ones in the whiskey barrel outside.”
“Mrs. Jensen,” her mother said. “They’re fake. She’s dying of cancer.”
Cleo thought back to when she’d run into Roman leaving Mrs. Jensen’s house on Christmas Day. “Oh,” she managed to get out.
“Why are you here?”
Yeah, if she ate anything more she was just going to vomit it back up. “Because we agreed to have lunch today.”
“Why did we do that?” her mom asked. “That doesn’t sound like us.”
She had a point. Before she’d come back to help her mom move and promptly gotten Andrew trapped in New Winslow, Cleo hadn’t been back in town for almost seven years. But that had always been a mutual decision. If anything, her mother seemed to enjoy keeping their contact to the phone and occasional lunches halfway between their homes more than she did.
“I guess we just did?” Cleo said sheepishly. “I mean, I told you I was going to be in Fitchburg with Edie, so I’d be nearby.”
“Who’s Edie? What happened to Jenna?”
“Edie’s my partner, Mom,” Cleo said slowly. “Jenna and I broke up months ago.”
“I liked Jenna.”
Cleo recognized the signs of an upcoming anxiety attack in her mother’s petulant tone. “Well, it didn’t work out,” she said, trying to stay patient. “But you’ll like Edie.”
Her mother didn’t answer. Cleo picked up a chip and ate it slowly.
“I think I’d like to be alone.”
There it was. Cleo was only surprised that the dismissal hadn’t happened earlier.
“Are you sure?” Cleo asked. “I just got here and I’ve got some chocolate cake in the bag.”
“I don’t like chocolate.”
That was decidedly untrue, but she was going to pick her battles. And since her mother was already mad, she might as well pick one of those battles now.
“Mom, have you made an appointment with Dr. Degas yet?”
“About what?” her mother snapped.
“It just seems like you’re still having some memory issues.”
And they were getting a whole lot worse, from what Cleo could see.
“It’s fine,” her mom said, tears now in her eyes. “I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.”
There wasn’t a chance that was true, but Cleo would take it for now. “Thank you.”
“I mean it though,” her mother said. “Thank you for coming, but I’d like some time by myself.”
Cleo nodded and tried not to let her mother see how much the dismissal hurt.
“You take the cake. You and Jenna can have it later.”
The house suddenly had no air. So Cleo tossed her sandwich back in the bag, kissed her mother on the cheek, and bolted without another word.
——————————————————
Olivia opened the front door and Cleo smiled a wide, fake smile. “I brought cake,” she said, holding up the box.
Olivia’s eyes narrowed, but she stepped aside to let Cleo in. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Cleo opened her mouth to deny it, but Olivia shook her head. “You just showed up on my doorstep with two slices of cake. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to see you. But I distinctly remember you telling me you were picking up cake to bring to your mom’s today.”
Cleo sighed as she followed Olivia into her apartment. “Just a rough afternoon,” she admitted. “Her mind was all over the place. First she forgot we were meeting and then it was only downhill from there. She was pissed and taking it out on me.”
Olivia winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
They went into the kitchen, where Olivia went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of iced tea. “Drink?” she asked.
“Please.”
Olivia set down the bottle, then reached up into the cabinet and pulled down three glasses. “Andrew’s in the shower,” she said. “He’ll be out in a sec.”
“I’ll save him some cake.”
As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Andrew walked out in his bathrobe, a towel draped over his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Cleo,” he said.
“Hi.”
He walked over and gave Cleo a one-armed hug. “What brings you by?”
If she couldn’t hide it from Olivia, she wasn’t going to hide it from Andrew either. “Rough day at my mom’s.”
He gave her an extra squeeze, then let go. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Give me a minute to change and I’ll be right back.”
“Mia’s in her room, so feel free to use mine,” Olivia said.
“Cheers,” Andrew called as he left the room.
Cleo felt an unexpected wave of jealousy wash over her at the sight of their casual domesticity. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want New Winslow. And she certainly didn’t envy Andrew’s situation. But the ease and comfort with which they moved around each other felt so much warmer than the apartment she loved, but was destroying herself to keep.
Olivia handed her a glass of iced tea. “Let’s sit down and eat that cake before Andrew notices.”
“I heard that!” Andrew called in from the living room.
Cleo laughed, feeling the weight of the afternoon lifting just a little as she sat down.
Olivia had always found it funny to set the same cheesy nineties country song on the jukebox every Friday night. She’d done it for years and despite the confused and irritated looks she’d see across Noah’s face when the first chords started, she had never told him it was her. And he’d never figured it out.
She hadn’t played that song in months, not since January at least. At first it had just been because of his standoffish behavior, but eventually it became too painful to even try to have any kind of fun with him at work. And when he’d quit and apparently tanked their friendship, she couldn’t even listen to the song without wanting to throw up.
Hugh had his back to her as she walked up from the basement, carefully balancing three small boxes in her arms. For a split second, she thought he was Noah. There was no reason to do so. Hugh and Noah looked nothing alike. But out of some cruel force of habit, her brain had inserted Noah into her vision just long enough to make it hurt. Then she saw Hugh’s brawny shoulders and light brown hair.
Shaking her head, Olivia dropped the boxes of silverware on the high top table and sat down. For the next couple hours it would be fairly quiet here. So now was the perfect time to at least attempt to get ahead of tonight’s madness.
Charlie wouldn’t be on until six so it was just Olivia and Hugh through the beginning of dinner service. Thankfully Hugh had already proven himself to be perfectly capable of dealing with the bar, so that left her with the kitchen and serving meals to anyone outside the bar. If she could just get enough prep work done, she could probably do fine tonight without worrying about falling behind.
Sure, there’d be complaints about slow or brusque service when she had to run back out for the check. But Bret was going to have to deal with that if he wasn’t going to let her schedule anybody else until after dinner began.
Olivia pulled out a fork and knife and rolled them into a paper napkin. Repetitive work like this was the closest she got to a lunch break some days. And she was almost okay with it. It was easy enough to let her mind wander as her hands worked automatically.
Mia was with her mother again while Andrew was at Iris’s. She wasn’t sure if he was officially working a shift or at a research meeting. Or maybe there wasn’t really any difference between the two. Either way he’d probably beat her home. She’d get home to him sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, maybe a notebook beside him. He’d either be jotting scenes for the novel he still maintained he wanted to write or else reading over some of the oddest notes about herbs and the moon, notes that made perfect sense to him and nobody else.
“Want some help?”
Hugh’s easy voice broke through her thoughts. He was standing beside the jukebox, just a few feet away. “I finished up my work,” he said. “Thought maybe I could help with yours.”
“Um, sure,” Olivia said. “Yeah, thanks. If you don’t mind? Did you take your lunch break yet?”
“I just got here an hour ago,” Hugh said with a patient smile.
Olivia felt her face get hot. “Right,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it.”
“No problem,” Hugh said, pulling out the chair opposite her.
He took a napkin, fork, and knife out of the boxes and effortlessly rolled them together. “So no one else until six, huh?” he asked as he set the napkin roll aside and took out more parts.
“Nope,” Olivia said, folding her own napkin roll and setting it into the pile. “And Charlie’s going to do what he can, but he’s got his own work cut out for him. Even on a Wednesday.”
“I wouldn’t mess with that kid,” Hugh said with a laugh. “That’s crap though. Any special reason why hours are cut so hard?”
Olivia glanced at the door as though Bret would deign to walk in at any moment. “Honestly?” she said, her voice lowering automatically. “Bret’s company is trying to squeeze every dime out of these bars that they can. Keegan’s, Devonshire over in Barre, and I guess he’s putting in an offer for some place in Turner’s Falls. But our profit margins aren’t up for the empire he’s trying to create, so he’s making cuts everywhere he can. Cheaper food, cheaper liquor, fewer hours. We used to have a decent-sized staff. Even last year we had a couple part time waiters on, plus a part-time bartender that would work alongside our full-time guy. All of them are gone and you’re the only person Bret’s brought on as an actual replacement.”
“I’m no businessman,” Hugh began, rolling his fourth or fifth napkin roll. “But that doesn’t seem like a very good way to run your company.”
“If you can even call it that,” Olivia said bitterly.
She knew that she was crossing a line of professionalism here, but she didn’t care. It felt good to sit here and talk to Hugh like a couple of adults.
“So what makes you stick around?” Hugh asked.
He stopped and winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was extremely rude of me. And absolutely none of my business.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I ask myself that every day.”
Olivia paused in her silverware rolling and looked toward the empty bar. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been looking, but there’s nothing in town that would pay enough. And I don’t want to look too far away when my mom and my roommate are giving me free babysitting, you know?”
Hugh nodded. “I get it,” he said. “Not that I don’t wake up every morning excited to go to work, but the fact that it’s near my parents is what really appealed to me when I applied.”
“How are you liking it?” she asked, trying to get herself back into manager mode. “Is it at least bearable?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Some parts are better than others.”
Edie sounded happy and rested in stark contrast to the tension headache and borderline panic currently coursing through Cleo. Cleo shifted her phone to the other ear as she picked up her delivery bag and set it in her car’s passenger seat.
“I’m not sure I can come over,” she said.
Edie was silent for a second. “Is everything alright?” they asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Cleo replied, well aware of how not-fine her voice sounded as she said it.
“Then why not?” Edie asked, their voice just on the edge of irritated. “I’ve got dinner going already. And that bath bomb you were jealous of? I’ve got three more.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
Cleo climbed into the driver’s side and slammed the door shut. “Deliveries were slow today on both apps and I’m still short for rent,” she explained. “I need to pay it tomorrow so I’m going to stay out tonight until I get enough.”
“Do you know how long that will be?”
“No.”
Guilt squirmed in her stomach. It had been almost two weeks since she’d seen Edie and that was when Edie had come to her house and rode along for a full shift just to spend time with her. Cleo had promised to come over tonight. And she’d intended too, really. It wasn’t until a couple hours ago that the nagging sensation settled in her gut and she’d realized it wasn’t going to happen. Edie had the right to be upset at the short notice cancellation.
But if Cleo didn’t stay out and finish this, either her rent would be returned or her bank account would overdraft. Both of which would leave her screwed when her utility bill went through next week.
“How much is it?” Edie asked.
“Edie, no-”
“How much more do you need?”
Cleo knew that tone. “Seventy dollars,” she said.
“I’ll give you the money.”
“Edie, I’m not going to ask you to pay my bills for me.”
“I know that,” Edie said. “But how many hours have you worked today?”
“Only nine. It’s not that bad.”
“And how many have you worked this week?”
Cleo tried to do the mental math but the numbers kept sliding away. After a moment’s silence, Edie sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
“Look, it’s just until I can find something permanent,” Cleo said. “And it’s my rent. I need to get it in tomorrow.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. “Edie?”
Her phone buzzed against her ear with an incoming notification. Cleo pulled it down and glanced at it. It was a Venmo alert notifying her she’d received seventy dollars from Edie.
“Edie, I mean it.”
“So do I,” Edie snapped. “Come on, Cleo, you’ve been working too hard. Let me help you this one time. Consider it me paying you back for dinner a couple weeks ago.”
Cleo was about to counter this argument with the fact that Edie had bought dinner the time before that, but her throat was suddenly too tight to get the words out. So instead, she nodded even though Edie couldn’t see her. “Thank you,” she finally choked out. “Alright, fine. Let me finish this delivery and then I’ll head over.”
“I’ll have dinner and a bath waiting.”
—————————————
Edie lived on the second floor of an old house that had been converted into a duplex. It was a beautiful apartment, clearly cared for and loved by both the owner and Edie. As Cleo walked up the steps to Edie’s unit, she saw the landlord shuffling around on the side porch. He spotted her through the window and raised a withered hand in greeting. She waved back, then made her way up to Edie’s front door.
Edie opened the door seconds after Cleo knocked. They wore black lounge pants and a Fitchburg State College tee shirt, yet somehow still looked glamorous. “Hey beautiful,” Edie said, pulling Cleo in for a kiss.
They tasted like mangoes as they smiled against Cleo’s lips. Despite her draining exhaustion, Cleo’s mood lifted just a little. She ran a hand through Edie’s soft hair. They’d cut it recently, the bob now short and choppy just below their ears.
“I like this,” Cleo said.
Edie smiled. “Just cut it for the summer.”
Cleo kissed them again. “It’s a good look.”
“I’m glad you came,” Edie said.
“I am too,” Cleo said, realizing she meant it.
Edie pulled her inside and closed the door. “You know what’s the best part of this apartment?” they asked, steering Cleo through the living room.
“Lots of parking?”
Edie rolled their eyes, but still smiled with a blend of affection and mischief. “That’s pretty great,” they admitted, hand still in Cleo’s and heading toward the bathroom. “But I think my favorite part is the big, claw footed tub. Have I showed you that yet?”
Cleo smiled at them. “I think I might have seen it once or twice,” she said with a laugh.
“Hmmm…”
Edie opened the bathroom door to reveal the dimly lit bathroom. Three candles were lit on the counter top and the scent of jasmine drifted up from the foamy surface of the filled tub. Cleo turned to Edie, who was grinning at her.
“I thought you said you had no plans?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
Edie shrugged. “I didn’t. But now I do.”
They wrapped their arms around Cleo, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Cleo let them slip it off, then kicked off her shorts and slid into the tub. Edie took a moment to undress, then got in on the other side.
“Mangos?” they offered, holding out a small plate of mango slices.
“I’d say you thought of everything, but I know this is a normal evening for you,” Cleo said with a laugh, taking a slice.
Edie laughed too as they set the plate aside. “Fair. But I’d much rather have the company.”
Cleo leaned back against the cool tile wall and closed her eyes as she took a bite of mango. “Agreed.”
