The Perfect Hope

  “No fault of yours. I enjoyed it.”

  “I hope you did. Do you want to leave the charges on your card?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “Just give me a moment.”

  “I think I’ll grab a couple bottles of water for the road.”

  “Help yourself.”

  When she went in, he stood in the kitchen chatting amiably with Carolee. “Thank you, Austin. Have a safe trip.”

  “You went out of your way.” He took her hand, pressed bills into it.

  “No, that’s not necessary.”

  “Please. I’d consider it a favor if you’d take it. It was nice meeting both of you. You take care now.”

  As he left, Hope looked down at the two folded fifties in her hand.

  “It’s his way of apologizing,” Carolee said. “You don’t turn away a sincere apology.”

  “It still wasn’t necessary. Here. Your half.”

  Carolee shook her head. “That’s yours, honey.”

  “Carolee—”

  “No.” To add emphasis, Carolee shook a finger. “That’s yours, and you earned it. Why don’t you go on up for a little bit, get some rest?”

  “Too much coffee.” The combination of fatigue and caffeine made her feel like an exhausted hamster who couldn’t stop running on its wheel. “Maybe later. But Avery’s opening today. Maybe I’ll run over, talk to her.”

  “You do that.”

  Time with a friend was as refreshing as a nap, Hope thought as she crossed Main. And she needed opinions, advice, commentary. She rapped on the glass door and waited for Avery, hair clipped back, bib apron in place, to come out of the closed kitchen.

  “Hey, what’s up? I thought you had a full house.”

  “Carolee’s got it for now. I’m taking a break, and boy, do I have a load to tell you. I wish Clare was around.”

  “Good stuff? Juicy gossip?”

  “All of that and more.”

  “Come on back and spill it. We had a run on pizzas last night, and I’m prepping more dough.”

  “I’m grabbing a Coke. I shouldn’t have any more caffeine, but I have to function.”

  “Rough night?”

  “All of that and more.” She walked in the back where Avery stood at the stainless steel worktable cutting dough for the rising pans. “First, there was The Pill.”

  “Birth control pill?”

  “You have a one-track mind. The Pill in the form of one Lola Redman.”

  “Oh, I know the type,” Avery said when Hope elaborated. “We get them. You can’t deal with the public and not. Did I tell you about the guy last week who—Sorry, your story time.”

  “And there’s more. I’m trying to decide if I tell it chronologically or in order of impact.”

  “Impact.”

  “Even then it’s hard to judge. So I’m going with sex.”

  “You had sex?” Avery fisted flour-covered hands on her hips. “When did you have time for sex since I talked to you last?”

  “I didn’t have sex. I’m going to have sex. Thank God. Next Tuesday night.”

  “You’ve made an appointment for sex.” On a pitying look, Avery let out a sigh. “Only you.”

  “There are logistics involved,” Hope pointed out. “We don’t have any bookings Tuesday night. I can’t have sex when I have guests.”

  “Why not? You have an apartment with a door and a lock on it. I suspect, call me crazy, some of your guests have sex behind their own closed doors.”

  “True, but I don’t want to risk it the first time. We could have another group who wants to party until one in the morning. I’d like more privacy.”

  “Are you planning to raise the roof?”

  “It’s been over a year,” she reminded her friend. “The roof may be raised. I need to buy some new underwear. Sexy underwear. I haven’t bought sexy underwear in a year either, which is a sad, sad thing. This requires new, doesn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. Not that Ryder’s going to pay much attention to that before he yanks it off you.”

  “I didn’t say I was having sex with Ryder.”

  “I read the subtext.” Avery carried dough pans to the under-counter cooler, stirred the sauce already simmering on the stove. “Are you going out first, like dinner or a movie, or just jumping?”

  “I suggested we order in, which got his approval. Then I’ll jump him.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Avery beamed at her. “Why don’t I make you something, a grown-up meal? One of the entrees from MacT’s.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Pasta’s fine.”

  “Vesta’s pasta’s more than fine, but why not bump it up a level? It’ll be my contribution to the Hope Finally Gets Laid Event.”

  “We thank you for your support.”

  “Leave that to me. You can pay me by calling or texting at the first possible moment to confirm liftoff.”

  “Done. Should I be worried about complications with this? With Ryder.”

  “Ryder’s not a complicated guy. Him man, you woman. I’m pretty sure he’ll be okay with that. I know some of the women he’s dated in the past.”

  “What are they like? Come on,” Hope added, “who wouldn’t want to know?”

  “Hope, he’s been dating—and I assume ‘dating’”—she gave the word air quotes—“since he was in his teens. It’s a variety pack. But I can say he manages to keep it friendly after the ‘dating’”—more air quotes—“stops.”

  “That’s all I want. Uncomplicated, friendly sex with a man I like—which is a surprise—and am attracted to, which really isn’t. Okay.” She swiped her hands in the air. “Settled. Now for the rest of the story. I fell into bed about twelve thirty last night. And woke up just after two, due to the screaming from downstairs.”

  “Oh my God.” Avery stopped stocking her toppings dish. “What happened?”

  “Let me tell you,” Hope said, and did.

  At the point in the telling Avery doubled over with laughter, Hope shook her head. “I should’ve known you’d think it was funny. You and Lizzy have a lot in common.”

  “She did it on purpose. You know she did. Lizzy likes us, and The Pill was treating you like a mentally challenged servant instead of her gracious and classy host. She deserved a good scare.”

  “She got one. Everybody’s packed into the second-floor hall, in their underwear, robes, or skimpy nightclothes—including me—and she’s screaming like somebody jabbed her in the eye with an ice pick. I feel guilty not telling her she actually did see something—or someone, but—”

  “She’d have been more freaked.”

  “Exactly. Judgment call. I did tell Jake and Casey. He’d kind of seen Lizzy earlier on the porch. He’s into ghosts, but doesn’t seem weird about it. I’m absolutely sure he’s going to be wandering around tonight, trying to get her to make another appearance. Anyway, two cups of whiskey-laced tea, and we got Lola settled down again. But in T&O. Jake and Casey switched with them, which, of course, meant I had to change the sheets and towels in both rooms, but it was worth it for the peace.”

  “What time did you get back to bed?”

  “It was going on four.”

  “God, you must be dead on your feet.”

  “Caffeine.” She held up the Coke. “It’s my best friend today—besides you. But that’s not the end of the story. I saw her.”

  “The Pill?”

  “Lizzy. Eliza. I was talking to her while I got ready to go back to bed. I do that sometimes, thinking it may ease her into communicating. Boy, did it work.”

  “She was in your apartment?”

  “It’s not the first time, but it’s the first time she let me see her. Or I could see her. And, Avery, she talked to me.”

  Eyes wide, Avery reached over to grab Hope’s hand. “What did she say? Did you ask her about Billy?”

  “The first thing, which showed admirable control and presence of mind, by the way.”

  “Kudos. What did she tell you?”<
br />
  “I wrote it all down. I think I got it word for word, so I can share it with Owen. Everybody, but Owen especially.” She pulled out the note she’d folded into her pocket, and read it to Avery.

  “What’s it got to do with Ryder?”

  “I don’t know. My take is she’s got that romantic streak, and she sees me and Ryder matched up.”

  “She’ll be very pleased Tuesday night.”

  “Maybe so, but we’re going to disappoint her with this love angle.”

  “Maybe not.” Avery lifted her shoulders and her hands for peace. “Just saying. It fades—she fades. That’s awful. Poor Lizzy. It sounds like she can’t remember, or pull it all out. It comes and goes. Do you think that’s it? Fades in and out, like she does?”

  “I think that might be it.”

  “It really might. I told you how I got her vibe, smelled her, when I snuck in the building when I was a teenager. And Beckett got that sense of her when they started work on the inn. He’d do walkthroughs at night when he lived over here, talk to her. He named her—that’s probably powerful, right? The naming.”

  “And maybe more so because the name was basically the right one.”

  “Which just goes to show you.”

  “What?” Hope asked.

  “Something woo-woo.” Avery wiggled her fingers at her ears as if that made her point. “Anyway, it—she—seemed to get stronger as they brought the place back.”

  “Bringing it back helped her come back?”

  “In a way, yeah. It’s her place, and it wasn’t happy. You know? It was sagging and dirty and neglected. Broken windows and rubble and piles of pigeon poop. That’s a kind of negative energy, don’t you think?”

  “I’d give pigeon poop a big negative.”

  “Then the Montgomerys brought it back, step-by-step. And they put a lot of care, even love, into that. It’s more than work.”

  “And it shows.”

  “And it feels,” Avery added. “You and Carolee do the same thing, every day. The care and love, and keeping it beautiful. Owen thinks Lizzy likes having it pretty again, and having people there. So do I. But maybe it’s got something to do with energy—positive, this time—too.”

  Thoughtfully, Hope nodded. “The energy of the place, the people in it helping revitalize the energy of her spirit. It’s a theory.”

  “And you’re there. Living there. She’s your ancestor,” Avery pointed out. “That’s got to be more energy.”

  “And responsibility,” Hope added. “I feel that. She’s putting so much faith in me, Avery. I don’t want to let her down.”

  “You definitely have to tell Owen, but I think you should talk to Ryder since she mentioned him. Maybe she’ll come back when he’s there with you, talk to both of you. Maybe, if it’s the two of you, a stronger vibe. I don’t know, it’s possible, and she’ll be able to tell you Billy’s whole name.”

  “It’s worth a try. Take this for Owen.” She passed Avery the note. “I made another copy.”

  “Naturally. They’re all doing shop work today on my bar and built-ins. You could run over, talk to them.”

  “I can’t leave Carolee when we’re so busy.”

  “I’ll go by on my way home. They’re planning on putting in some shop time tomorrow. I can let you know.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon I could manage an hour or two. They work at their mother’s, right? In that big building that looks like another house.”

  “That’s it. I’m not working tomorrow, so anytime works for me. I can alert Clare. If she doesn’t have anything going on, we can have a full-out ghost meeting.”

  Other voices, other opinions, other theories. She could use all she could get. “I’ll work it out with Carolee. I should get back to her. They’ll be turning the rooms soon, and we’re going to have a truckload of sheets and towels.”

  “I know you don’t usually schedule in a nap, but make an exception today. You look tired.”

  “I have on five pounds of concealer, expertly blended.”

  “I know you, so concealer can’t fool me. Grab a nap, or at least have Carolee run the show tonight.”

  “Since The Pill’s out of the equation, I might do that. She’d have fun with the rest of this group. Give Clare the lowdown. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “If Lizzy comes back, call me!”

  “I will.” Lighter in step, Hope went out, then frowning, checked out the sky.

  Clouds slid in over the sun. Rain might not have been in the forecast, but she knew a threatening storm when she saw one.

  Which meant guests would probably come back early from their plans for the day, or hunker down and not leave at all.

  The potential nap, she decided, just got crossed off the list.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HOPE WOUND UP THE LANE TOWARD JUSTINE’S LATER than she’d planned on Sunday afternoon. Still, she’d enjoyed the drive in the summer green along the curvy roads with her windows down and the wind lifting her hair.

  A day tailor-made for a convertible, she thought. She’d toyed with buying one once, but hadn’t been able to justify the purchase with her urban life. And now she couldn’t justify it due to the long, often snowy country winters.

  It was hell being practical.

  She liked the way Justine’s house seemed tucked away in the woods and still managed to sprawl. And the gardens, she noted, put on a pretty spectacular show.

  She saw why when she spotted Justine yanking weeds with a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her head, purple gloves on her hands, and a bold red tub beside her.

  When Hope pulled up, nosing behind a trio of trucks, a pack of dogs raced up to sniff and wag and dance. Justine’s two Labs, Atticus and Finch. Hope counted off as she eased open the car door. Clare’s family’s Yoda and Ben, Ryder’s D.A., and … Oh, the puppy!

  The sniffing and wagging continued as she scrubbed heads. “Hi there. You must be Spike. Look how cute you are!”

  Justine, earbuds dangling, clapped her hands. “All right, boys, back off some.” As she spoke, a pug waddled around the big red tub.

  “Oh, they’re everywhere.” Laughing, Hope started forward as Justine hefted the weed-filled tub and walked to meet her.

  “Yeah, they are. This one’s Tyrone, and a little overwhelmed.”

  “Everybody else is so big. Hello, Tyrone.”

  “He’s only got one good ear, and he’s shy yet. But he’s got a sweet nature once he’s got his bearings.”

  The trio of boys raced toward them from the direction of the shop, Murphy pumping hard to bring up the rear. Immediately, the dogs—sans Tyrone—ran to surround them.

  “Mom’s coming,” Harry announced. “We’re thirsty.”

  “She’s going to get us drinks. Can we have Specials? Can we, Gran?”

  Justine flipped at the brim of Liam’s ball cap. She’d started stocking jugs of V-8 Splash, and her Special was a tiny dollop of ginger ale added to the cup. “Okay by me. Take this one with you.” She motioned toward the pug. “And see he doesn’t poop on my floor.”

  “Okay!”

  Murphy wrapped his arms around Hope’s legs, looked up with a face shining with joy. “We got lots of dogs. We got more dogs than anybody else in the universe.”

  “So I see.”

  “Wait! Wait for me!” he shouted when his brothers ran off.

  “Seems like it was just me and my two dogs for a while,” Justine said, carting her weeds to her composter. “Though the boys were always thinking up reasons to come by and check on me. Now I’ve got those three and a wolf pack.”

  “And you love it.”

  “Every second. Clare!” Justine fisted a hand on her hip as Clare walked down the slope from the shop. “I’d’ve gotten those boys drinks.”

  “I can use the exercise and an indoor seat. I didn’t hear you drive up,” she said to Hope. “It’s noisy back there.”

  “It’s going to be noisy inside, too,” Justine pointed out.

  “That I’m us
ed to. They kicked me out of the shop anyway. They’re going to start staining and varnishing something, and didn’t want me around the fumes.”

  “I didn’t raise idiots. Go on inside. I’m nearly done here so I’ll be along to help you ride herd. Hope, why don’t you go out there to the shop, get a gauge on when they’re going to take a break.”

  “All right.”

  She walked toward the shop, and the dogs came tearing after her. Finch was wild-eyed, with a ratty, slobbery ball in his mouth. “I’m not touching that,” she told him.

  He dropped it at her feet. “Still not touching it.”

  He repeated the process every few steps, all the way to the shop with its covered porch crowded with old chairs, tables, window frames, and various salvage she couldn’t identify. Music banged out the open windows along with male voices raised in what might have been a discussion, debate, or argument.

  She poked her head in the door and saw men, a lot of toothy tools, piles of lumber, stacks of paint, shelves jammed with cans and jars, and God knew what else.

  Finch hustled right in, dropped the ball at Ryder’s feet. Ryder barely glanced down before he kicked the ball through the window.

  The dog soared through after it. There was a crash, a thud. As Hope scrambled back to make sure the dog was all right, Finch rolled with the ball clamped in his teeth, raced back into the shop.

  “For heaven’s sake,” she murmured. She walked back, this time going in. And had just enough time to lift her hands in defense and catch the ball before it hit her in the face.

  “Good reflexes,” Ryder commented.

  “Yuck.” She heaved the ball outside. A deliriously joyful Finch flew after it.

  “And not a bad arm.”

  “You might look where you’re kicking that disgusting thing.”

  “It would’ve gone out the window if you hadn’t blocked it.” He pulled a bandana out of his pocket.

  She only eyed it when he offered it, and instead reached in her purse for a mini bottle of antibacterial gel. “No, thanks.”

  “Hope! Look at my bar.” Avery, in cargo shorts, hiking boots, and a wildly green bandana tied around her hair looked more like one of the trekkers who came off the Appalachian Trail than a restaurateur. She negotiated the maze of power tools and lumber to grab Hope’s hand and pull her through. “These are the panels that go on the bar. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

  Hope didn’t know much about carpentry, but she thought she saw potential in