Her dark hair had soft waves, like she’d just stepped off a film set. But her face...it wasn’t old or wrinkled or ghost-like.
“You’re…young.” Ocean let out a shaky breath, then noticed the tears in the woman’s eyes. She reached out instinctively. “You’re crying. Oh my God, these letters were for you. That’s so sad. You...you never got to read them.”
The ghost wiped away a tear and shook her head.
“Can I...can I hug you?” Ocean asked softly.
Jo gave her a wistful smile. “I suppose we’re going all the way, then. Yes, darling. You may.”
She opened her arms.
Chapter Seventeen
Skye
* * *
My phone rang.
When my daughter wasn’t with me, I always answered, no matter the hour. A parent thing, I told myself. I could never ignore a call or a text.
She was just across the street. But still!
I flipped the phone over. Ocean. That alone was enough to jolt me. She never called. Always texted.
Arthur was mid-sentence, but I raised a hand to pause him and picked up.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re still across the street, right?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well then, someone else is in the barn.”
I moved to the window in Arthur’s apartment. From here, I had a clear view of the old barn. Bernie’s truck was nowhere in sight, not that I was expecting him today. Clare’s station wagon was in the driveway, and the ‘Closed’ sign still hung on the door of the shop. But one of the barn doors was ajar.
“Don’t go out there,” I said. “I’ll check it out.”
I hung up and quickly explained the situation to Arthur. He nodded once, then looked toward a spot over his shoulder.
“Henry says, ‘Quite rude. No self-respecting criminal would strike before noon. It’s barely ten.’” Arthur paused, listening again. “Also, he says I have to take this.”
He picked up the ornately carved walking stick that had been gathering dust by the apartment door for years.
“I get it,” he said impatiently to the ghost before turning to Skye. “You never know when you might need to look dangerous...or whack someone on the knee.”
Without another word, Arthur led the way out the door, walking stick in hand, and we headed downstairs through the bookstore.
George was already at the front counter.
“What are you doing coming this way? Trying to sneak up on me?” he asked, frowning at Arthur. He grinned at me. “He’s always sneaking up on me.”
“You need to get your hearing checked,” Arthur said. “Listen, we’ve got a potential break-in at the barn. You’re now our official backup.”
George blinked. “What do you want me to do? Yell at them through the window?”
“Keep your eyes open and your phone on,” Arthur said. “Answer if I call or text.”
