He put my bag in the trunk and I handed him my duffle to add to it. His suitcases were already there, and I was sure he had more luggage than I did.
I hopped in the car and he followed. In the short week since dinner, the air had cooled substantially, so getting into the heated car was nice.
"How long is the drive?" I asked as he started driving.
"Four hours," he said. "We'll stop for food because we'll probably get there late."
"Sounds good."
We drove in silence. Quiet had never bothered me, so it was fairly comfortable. He played music and I scrolled through way too many videos.
About two hours in, we pulled off an exit and into a small diner parking lot. It looked old and run down, with metal outer walls and a sign that now only lit up to say D-ER.
"What's this?" I asked.
"I always stop here on my way to the lodge," he said. "They have the best french toast this side of the country."
I shrugged. I didn't peg Ellery as a french toast guy, but he did seem to have a bit of a sweet tooth.
We hopped out and my boots crunched through what looked like freshly fallen snow. I didn't notice any coming down on the drive, but everything seemed to have a fresh dusting.
The diner was as rundown inside as it was out. The tiles were sticky and all the pleather of the booths had rips.
A waitress took us to one of the tables, leaving us with cloudy, plastic covered menus.
Ellery seemed to be right about one thing. After I ordered a lemonade and Ellery ordered his coffee, I checked out the menu. They advertised the french toast right on the cover, and had a list of flavors. I decided on some with strawberries on it before setting it aside.
We ordered, me the strawberry and Ellery the banana and nutella, before the waitress swept away with the promise of food soon.
"So, what does this family vacation entail?" I asked.
He shrugged. "The normal. Some skiing, dinners, spending time together."
"Sounds like it will be nice."
"What about you?" he asked. "What are your vacations like?"
"Nothing special," I said. "It was really just my mom and I. My grandmother couldn't come because of her health, though she did come to the lake once before she passed. But we mostly did weekend trips to the beach." Though my mom had always kept us comfortable, we didn't have a ton extra for extended vacations.
Ellery scrunched his nose. "I don't really like the beach. I much prefer a ski trip."
I furrowed my brows. "Who doesn't like the beach?"
"Not only is it always hot," he began, ticking on his fingers, "but it's boring, and not to mention, sandy. Sand gets everywhere. And you can never get rid of it. I swear I shook out a sandal the other day with sand in it from my trip three summers ago."
"Sounds like you have a sand ghost," I said, wiggling my fingers.
"It feels like that. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Yes,” I said.
I was a witch, I’d met enough mediums to know ghosts were real. But that wasn’t any kind of give away, really. Lots of people believed in ghosts, even people who couldn’t talk to them.
“That’s interesting.”
I shrugged. “I mean, why not, right? I don’t think they’re around every corner ready to get you, but I think some people can get stuck.” Ghosts were truly docile. Slips of spirits that couldn’t muster up the power to do much more than communicate through a conduit.
“I don’t know if I believe it,” he said. “Like you said, what’s the harm? But do I want to believe in the idea a dead person could be watching me at any time? What if I’m changing?” He shivered dramatically.
