“How do you know there are no ghosts?” she asked, drawing out the question like she already knew the answer. Her eyes locked on mine, searching, really searching, for something I wasn’t ready to admit.
I couldn’t control what Jo did any more than I could control the tide. And I was starting to feel the waters rise around my ankles.
“What’s with all the questions?” I asked. “Did you see something?”
“Never mind what I saw,” she said, crossing her arms. “I asked first.”
Arthur jumped in before I could lie to her again.
“I’ve seen a few,” he said, like it was nothing.
“You have?” Ocean perked up.
I shot him a look sharp enough to draw blood.
“On the ghost tours,” he added, smoothly. “Every October. But it’s hard to tell if they were the real thing or just actors in costume trying to freak out the tourists.”
Ocean rolled her eyes. “Come on. Don’t dodge. I want the truth. Has anything weird ever happened to you? Not on some tour. I mean here. In the bookstore.”
Arthur glanced at me, just a flick, but Ocean caught it. She leaned in, practically daring him.
“You cut in to save her, so now you have to tell me. For real. Ghosts. Yes or no?”
He didn’t blink.
“They’re real,” he said. “But no, I haven’t had a heart-to-heart with one.”
Arthur’s eyes swept the room. I knew he and Henry had had their share of arguments and snarky back-and-forths over the years, but apparently those didn’t count. So technically, he wasn’t lying. Just...editing.
“But I’ve felt them here,” he added, quieter this time.
I turned and gave him a look. Seriously? That’s your idea of helping? Don’t encourage her.
“I knew it,” Ocean said, her voice full of quiet triumph. “But why do they stay? Why don’t they just go? You know, wherever dead people are supposed to go?”
Arthur sighed, long and theatrical, and smoothed the invisible wrinkles from his shirt like he was preparing for a lecture.
“Sweetness, I have no idea,” he said, patting her hand. “But I promise you this. When my time comes, I’ll do my best to come back and spill everything I know about your mother before I get whisked off to heaven. Or, let’s be honest, before I get rerouted for a little...reevaluation.”
“Oh, you think you’re going to heaven,” I commented.
“I’ve heard the company is more interesting elsewhere.” He gave me a wink. “But there is also a good chance heaven has a dress code I won’t approve of.”
Ocean snorted, and I shook my head, silently grateful for his well-timed sense of humor.
My phone buzzed on the table. A quick glance told me it was Rhys on Facetime.
“Your dad. Want to talk to him?” I asked, holding the phone out to Ocean.
“Sure,” she said, taking it from me and walking away from the table as she answered the call.
Ocean’s voice drifted in from the next room, and from what I could hear, she was doing a stellar job relaying the change of plans to her father.
“You two need an intermediary to communicate these days?” Arthur asked, arching a brow and shooting me one of his patented I see right through you, darling, looks.
“Which two?” I asked, playing dumb.
He rolled his eyes. “You and your husband, of course. Or is he just a figment of your romantic backstory now?”
