Footsteps on the stairs announced Dash and Meredith’s return. They came into the kitchen, Dash gesturing as he explained something about the manor’s original gas lighting fixtures.
“—and we’re not sure if we want to convert them to electric or keep them as decorative—” He stopped when he saw everyone looking at him. “What?”
Dash looked like a puppy chasing its new owner around—happy and checking for signs he was being good. “Nothing,” Slate said. “Tea?”
Meredith took the seat next to her grandmother, and Dash dropped a hand on Slate’s shoulder. His hair was mussed, as if someone—his sister—had ruffled it during the tour.
“This place is incredible,” Meredith said, accepting a cup from Slate. “You’re doing amazing work.”
“Slate’s doing amazing work,” Dash corrected. “I just live here and occasionally hold the flashlight.”
Slate didn’t look up, but placed his hand on top of Dash’s. “He’s lying. Not only does he surprisingly have good taste, but he’s also way handier than I expected from a computer nerd.”
“See?” Meredith said to her grandparents. “Nauseating.”
Before anyone could respond, the sound of the front door slamming open echoed through the house. “Slate?” Slate’s mother’s voice carried down the hallway, sharp with urgency. “Are you here?”
Dash’s hand tightened, and Slate was sure he looked like a deer in the headlights. “Kitchen.”
Seconds later, Marjorie swept into the kitchen, Clifford close behind. She took in the family reunion and paused. “Morten, Millicent. I forgot you were coming.” Her gaze fixed on Meredith. “Are you…”
“Dash’s sister.” She stood and offered her hand. “Meredith Reeves. I take it you’re Slate’s parents?”
“Good guess,” Clifford said, accepting her hand. “Nice to meet you, Meredith. Mort, Millie.” He nodded at them. “Sorry to burst in like this. Marge didn’t want to wait.”
“I told you we should’ve changed the locks,” Dash whispered in Slate’s ear.
“Twenty minutes ago, there was anincident,” Marjorie said, either not hearing Dash’s comment or not caring enough to respond. “In the town square—right in front of the festival vendors—objects started levitating.”
After all the success Thomas, Oliver, and Cain had achieved, Gary messing things up angered Slate. “What objects?”
The temperature in the kitchen plummeted. Dash’s hand went to his neck, and a prickle shot up Slate’s spine. A second later, three translucent figures materialized near the doorway.
Thomas’s usual composure had cracked, Oliver frowned, and Cain’s mellow affect was completely gone.
“Gary’s been practicing,” Cain said, looking directly at Slate and Dash. “He wants to make an entrance. He thinks the living festival would be more fun with a little spectral enhancement.”
“We tried to stop him,” Oliver said. “But he said people would love it. That it would make them happy.”
“He doesn’t understand what he’s risking,” Thomas added, frustration bleeding through his carefully controlled tone.
“What did he levitate?” Dash asked.
“How did you know—” Oliver began.
“First, three jack-o’-lanterns from the pumpkin display,” Clifford said, his voice tight. “Then a basket of gourds. And finally, someone’s poetry collection.”
The front door barged open again, this time hard enough that Slate’s parents flinched. He heard Liv’s footsteps before he saw her.
“That ghost is out of control,” she gasped as she burst into the kitchen and then pulled to a stop. “Oh, hi. You’re Dash’s sister. You two look alike. I bet he’s so happy he’s about to burst.” She glanced at Dash. “Yeah, totally. He’s got that ‘my sister is here’ happy vibe working.”
Meredith looked stunned for a second and then moved closer to give Liv a hug. “And you’re Olivia. I’m reasonably sure I heard you on a few calls.”
Eight living people and three ghosts crammed into a kitchen that, thankfully, was big enough for twice that many. Slate’s mind was already reeling; he didn’t need to add overcrowding to his irritation. “What happened?”
“Pumpkins, gourds, books,” Liv said, waving her arms about. “Everyone saw it. The mayor. The entire festival committee. A tour bus from Syracuse. Everyone had their phones out.”
“How did people react?” Morten asked.
