The moment they were inside, Dash hooked his sister’s arm and whisked her off on a tour of the house. Their voices faded up the steps, Meredith asking questions and Dashanswering with the kind of enthusiasm he usually reserved for solving particularly elegant code problems.
Slate stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them go. Something in his chest felt too full, like joy had taken up more space than he’d budgeted for.
“They’ve always been like that,” Morten said from behind him. “Even when they fought like cats and dogs, five minutes later, they’d be laughing. The divorce years were hard on them both. Millicent and I, along with Joyce and Herbert, tried our best, but we didn’t have custody.”
Slate guided them to the kitchen, trying to think of something to get off the unpleasant topic. Everything, however, came back to Meredith. “We didn’t know she was coming. Dash would’ve been bouncing off the walls if he’d known.”
“That was rather the point.” Millicent picked up a cracker and cheese. “Meredith wanted to surprise him. She’s been in Aberdeen for two years. It required a bit of planning to make it happen.”
“It worked,” Slate said. “Would you like some wine?”
“Tea would be lovely, dear.” She looked at Morten, and he nodded. “Two, please. We’ll drink the wine with dinner.”
Slate filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Dash’s voice wafted down from the second floor. Whatever he was saying, Meredith found it funny. Very funny, judging by her laughter.
“I always know when he’s calling her,” Slate said, taking the box of tea from the cabinet. “They bicker and laugh and shout, and sometimes they cry. That happened on the anniversary of Joyce’s death. Dash had paced around until she returned his call. They both miss her.”
“I had to threaten to withhold money from my son, and bribe their mother, to let them stay with Joyce and Herbert,” Morten said. “They lived in the same school district as the kids.But we could only get them to agree to school weeks instead of permanently.”
That explained things he hadn’t wanted to ask Dash because he knew it was painful. “Dash mentioned Meredith went to Europe to find herself.”
“She’d planned to leave many years ago, but then Joyce died,” Millicent said. The sadness in her voice told Slate how she felt about Dash’s other grandmother. “No matter how much Dash pushed, Meredith refused to leave until she was sure he was stable enough to stand on his own.”
The kettle whistled, and Slate poured water over tea leaves and let it steep. Dash had told him how bad it had been losing Joyce, but hearing it from Millicent made it more real.
“It was hard on Meredith too, but she tried to hide it from Dash,” Morten said. “Dash being Dash saw through her and pretended to be better. She didn’t buy what he was selling. Finally, he graduated, got his first job, and she put her life back on track. As you see, distance didn’t break their bond.”
Slate busied himself setting out teacups and small plates. He’d experienced some of the pain Dash carried, but nothing like his grandparents hinted at. “And she’s happy now?”
“Very,” Millicent said. “She still misses him, but they keep in touch. I remember when she first learned about you. We got a call five minutes after she hung up with Dash. She wanted to know everything about ‘this Slate person.’ Were you good to him? Was he happy? Did she need to fly home and kick someone’s derrière?”
He highly doubted Meredith had said “derriere.” Pouring tea, he sat across from his guests. “I’m doing my best to make sure she doesn’t need to kick me in the behind.”
“Your butt is safe,” Morten said with a chuckle. “You let him be Dash without asking him to be less. That’s all we wanted forhim. Meredith says she came to meet you, but she misses him. It was a good excuse.”
The words settled in Slate’s chest next to that too-full feeling. Having someone look at him and Dash and simply see that they were good for each other mattered more than he’d expected.
Footsteps overhead let them know the house tour continued. Dash might forget sometimes and say it was Slate’s house, but seeing him so eager to show it to his sister meant he knew it was his home too.
“Thank you for making this happen,” he said. “He’s been happy since he moved in, but this… it’s a different kind of joy than I’ve seen.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Millicent said. “Meredith is every bit as happy as Dash. I know she loves her new life, but she misses all of us.”
The bond they shared had been forged through hardship and heartache, but it was something wonderful to see. Slate never had the same closeness with either of his sisters.
“How are those two young ghosts doing?” Millicent asked. “Are they still dancing around each other?”
“It’s complicated.” Slate rubbed the back of his neck. “Neither has a clue what to do, and that doesn’t even address the trauma both suffered. Thomas looks at Oliver like he hung the moon, and Oliver thinks Thomas is the sun. And they pretend not to have feelings for each other. Dash and I agreed not to meddle, but it’s getting hard.”
“Young love is still the same,” Millicent said, her smile turning soft. “Even after death, apparently. Morten and I dated for six months before he worked up the nerve to tell me about the family gift. Thought I’d run screaming.”
“You nearly did,” Morten said mildly.
“I did not. Ivery calmlyasked if you were pulling my leg, and when you proved you weren’t, Ivery calmlydecided I was in too deep to back out.”
They shared a smile, but when Morten realized Slate was still there, he cleared his throat. “Dash mentioned they’re gathering intelligence on the party situation?”
Slate sipped his tea to hide his amusement. It was incredibly sweet how they still cared about each other after all the decades of marriage. “Yes. And they’re surprisingly good at it. They’ve convinced many of the ghosts how important it is not to draw undue attention to the town. Most recognize how valuable the portal is to other spirits.”
