Only one woman chuckled. The rest looked mildly confused, as if waiting for the punchline. George pointed to a nearby aisle.
A tall man with wild white hair came in. “Got any books on witches or vampires in Harbor View?”
“Plenty on the subject, but nothing relating specifically to the village,” George said, adding, “But if you buy three books, I’ll tell you where the local ghosts hang out.”
Ocean pushed her chair back from the counter and waited until the customer went off down the aisles.
“Be honest, George. Am I just doing busy work here? I mean, this whole business about finding books to order?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted. “We don’t get new releases of young adult literature direct from the publishers. Too expensive. We can’t match the big chains.”
Ocean frowned. “Then why exactly am I here?”
“To get you out from underfoot,” he said, nodding across the street. “Bernie and his helper are over at your grandmother’s house right now. What did you do?”
It wasn’t hard to guess why she wasn’t wanted around that afternoon. If Bernie was hauling furniture out of the house, her mother probably figured Ocean would be better off here. She was already getting attached to her grandmother’s things.
It was amazing, the stuff she’d already found in the boxes Clare had saved. Every carton seem to have a story inside. She wanted time to go through them.
“Three books.” The white-haired customer set his selections down with a thump.
George rang up the sale, adding a handful of free bookmarks to the bag before pushing it across the counter.
“Three books,” the man repeated. “You said if I bought three, you’d tell me about the ghosts in Harbor View.”
“You’re not from the East Coast, I’m guessing,” George said.
“Why do you ask? Does it make a difference?”
George shrugged. “Kinda. Up and down the coast, every town’s got a dozen ghosts that people treat like in-laws they can’t get rid of. These manifestations can be a pain. You tend to frighten easily?”
“No,” the man said, a bit miffed at the suggestion. “But you’re right. I’m not local. My friends and I are visiting from Arizona.”
“Perfect. Okay, you’re in for a treat.”
George pulled a sketched map of Harbor View from a nearby stack of flyers and spread it out on the counter. He grabbed a red pen and started circling spots like he was drawing up a treasure hunt.
Ocean leaned in, trying to look casual while very obviously eavesdropping.
“See this stretch of beach?” George said, pointing to the map. “If you walk that beach as the tide starts coming in, you’ll hear men crying out.”
“I love it! What happened there?”
“Pirates. That’s where they hanged a bunch of them around 1750. The townspeople buried them in the sand below the high-water mark so their souls would never rest. All kinds of moaning and wailing. A definite haunt location.”
“That’s great. Anywhere else?”
“Most houses built before the turn of the century have a ghost or two.” He tapped the map again. “At the inn down on the harbor, guests say they hear a little girl’s footsteps running through the hallways. And the restaurant directly across the street? They can’t keep kitchen staff. Drawers and cabinets open by themselves, and knives tend to fly across the kitchen out of nowhere. A very angry ghost.”
He circled another house. “And this place? It’s an Airbnb now. The ghost there is apparently totally Type-A. Makes the beds. Unpacks guests’ suitcases. Honestly, I’d rent it just for the free housekeeping.”
Ocean’s mind drifted. Her bed had been made this morning. And the last time she was here, books had come off the shelves on their own.
“What about here?” she blurted out. “The bookstore.”
Judging by the delighted look the customer gave her, she realized she’d just stuck her nose too far into George’s town ghost tour. Too late now, though. The cat was out of the hat. Or the bag. Whatever.
She wasn’t sorry. George had worked here long enough to know if any supernatural weirdness was going on. She wanted to hear what he had to say.
