“So thereissomething.” Gracie’s brows pinched. “Mom…”
MJ swallowed. “I’ll tell you later.”
Gracie launched a brow. “Later is…now. Come to Sugarfall with me.”
“I have to get back to the lodge,” MJ said. “We have so much to do to get ready for the real opening, the wedding, and?—”
“Then I’ll drive you.” Gracie gripped her arm. “Mom, I know when something’s going on with you. Please.”
MJ looked through the windows at the slow-falling snow, thinking. Yes. She needed to tell someone, and who better than the daughter she trusted completely?
“Of course,” MJ whispered, relief flooding her. “Thank you, honey.”
Gracie nearly droveoff the road when MJ dropped the bomb that her new third-floor apartment was haunted…by George McBride.
“What?” She steadied the bakery van and merged into traffic with a quick glance at MJ. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m not…notserious. You remember the music box your father gave me when you were born?”
“The white enamel one that playsWhat a Wonderful World? Of course. It’s in my bedroom.”
“Excuse me?” MJ slammed her palm against her breastbone, shocked. “Youhaveit? I’ve been looking everywhere. I thought I had it.”
“Well, it’s on my nightstand next to a picture of Dad.” She frowned. “You left it when you moved into the lodge after Dad died.”
“I don’t remember that,” MJ admitted. “But then I don’t remember much from those days.”
“I figured the music box made you sad,” Gracie said. “So I kept it for you.”
“You have it.” MJ squeezed her eyes at what this meant. “So he’s not using it to communicate with me.”
Gracie’s eyes grew wide. “Oookay…” She dragged out the word. “You better be more specific. He’scommunicating?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom! Are you serious?”
She let out a sigh, knowing how it sounded, but now there really was no explanation. “Every night at three in the morning—exactly, mind you, not one minute before or after—I hear the song. Digital, like the music box. I thought maybe I’d stuffed it in a drawer or something, but now…you have it.”
“Plus, it’s not digital,” Gracie said. “It’s a wind-up music box that wouldn’t play by itself.”
“Especially if it’s on your nightstand,” MJ added.
“You must be dreaming, Mom.”
“I don’t think so,” MJ said. “I hear it, loud and clear. Well, not loud and not clear. Almost as if it’s underwater.”
“Have you looked under sofa cushions and taken everything apart? Checked all the cabinets?”
“Yes, yes. But I was looking for the music box because nothing else would make that noise or play that song.” She sighed. “Your father knows what that song means to me.”
Gracie considered that, turning off the main highway toward the lodge. “What do you think he’s trying to say, Mom?”
“Well, not that you believe me?—”
“I believe you,” she said quickly. “But I do think it could be your imagination or even your conscience, thinking Dad would be upset if you fell in love with another man.”
“He would be,” MJ said.
