Page 50 of Old Flames

“Lovely!” Ayesha exclaimed.

“Did you pick those?” Vicky asked.

“Yes,” Jules lied. She set the flowers aside and averted her eyes when Leo entered the breakfast room, avoiding his gaze even when he passed her the coffee, the maple syrup, and asked how her night had been.

In a matter of days, Leo had gone from garden-variety good-looking to a thorny dark rose, dangerously seductive. His features had sharpened, the cheekbones taut and the jaw tight. Somehow, he looked as fresh as the new day, as if he’d had a full night’s sleep, though she knew he hadn’t. For today’s excursion, he wore a crisp white T-shirt and a seemingly well-loved pair of jeans. She noticed that he never strayed from his signature palette: white, sky blue, deep blue, sandy beige, and brown leather. It suited him even better now that he had a tan, and his dark hair was less so after a few days in the sun.

Daphne arrived in a flurry of braids and bracelets. “Late start this morning! Last-minute admin stuff,” she explained. “How is everyone? And how was last night? Did you have fun?”

“I’ve exceeded my capacity for fun,” Ayesha said with a yawn. “I’ll collapse if this goes on.”

Daphne emptied a packet of sugar into her coffee cup. “And how was last night’s séance?”

“Not great,” Matty replied. “We summoned Sebastien and got to the bottom of his relationship woes, but that’s it.”

Daphne glanced at Sebastien slumped at the far end of the table. “That’s no small thing.”

“We don’t have the right supplies,” Vicky said. “One scented candle isn’t enough. Also, we should pick up crafty salt.”

Matty motioned for Leo to pass him the bread basket. “I grew up messing around with Ouija boards at birthday parties, mostly for the chance to mess around with girls afterward. In my limited experience of a boy who wanted to kiss girls, it’s helpful to know more about the spirit than her name. Favorite color, favorite song, those things.”

“I’ve been giving it some thought and perhaps there is a language barrier,” Ayesha said. “Aurora may be more fluent in Spanish.”

“That’s very helpful, Ayesha,” Vicky said.

“Please, don’t mention it,” Ayesha said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Show of hands,” Daphne said. “How many of you believe, truly believe, deep down in your heart of hearts, that with a candle, salt, a few fun facts, and blind faith, you can draw a spirit from one dimension to another?”

No hands went up. At the end of the day, they were reasonable adults.

“When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous,” Sebastien said. “But I saw my grandfather the day he died.”

“That’s a whole other circumstance,” Daphne said.

“I don’t think it’s about supplies or rituals,” Jules said, shocking everyone at the table. That was the trouble when you didn’t speak up regularly, any random comment or observation threw people off. Leo’s gaze sharpened on her. He hadn’t said much all morning, which was unlike him. When their eyes met, she realized he’d shut her out. Access denied to the warmth of his soul. Who could she blame? She’d made her choices.

“What, then?” Vicky asked.

“Not sure there’s anything we can do on our side,” Jules said. “It depends on how urgently they want to contact us, I guess.”

Vicky burst into tears.

“Goodness!” Daphne cried.

In Vicky’s haste to grab a napkin, she dropped a fork. It landed at her feet with a clammer. “God! I’m a mess,” she moaned.

Jules leaped from her chair but Matty, sitting next to her, only had to collect her in his arms to console her. Feeling useless, Jules slowly sat back down. It was as it should be, she reasoned. They’d been each other’s sole support system for far too long. To widen the circle, welcome others, seemed like the right thing to do. She felt Leo’s eyes bore into her. He hadn’t missed a thing, not her leaping off her chair only to sit back down, and not the pained expression that had surely followed.

“Sorry, everyone,” Vicky said. “It’s been difficult to admit that I’m losing my grandmother. I thought if I could master this party trick, then maybe, in time, I could contact her, too, which would make this loss more bearable. No disrespect to Aurora.”

“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” Daphne said. “It wasn’t my intention to belittle your efforts. I’m no authority. Trust me. And for what it’s worth, I have some experience with loss. Let me tell you, grief can eat you alive if you let it. There’s no point staring into that void or trying to reclaim what that void has stolen from you. Life is short and precious. We’ll get there soon enough.”

After breakfast, Jules wearily climbed the back stairs to her room. They had instructions to meet in the lobby in ten minutes. The first stop of the day was The Bishop Garden. From there, they’d visit the San Carlos Institute and then the Tennessee Williams exhibit. She wasn’t looking forward to any of it. Buddying up with Leo had made these outings bearable. They’d tease each other, swap stories. He’d provoke her, then invite her to dream. Without his companionship, she would not know what to do with herself. But what was the simple bouquet of flowers if not an olive branch? Jules wondered. She quit wondering when a cry rising from the ground floor forced her thoughts to a halt.

Jules raced out the door and back down the stairs to the second floor.

For once, Vicky hadn’t caused the scene. It was Daphne. The others were already there, crowding her door. Daphne stood at the foot of her bed, clutching a small object to her chest and weeping. Leo went to her, consoling. “Never mind. It’s fine,” she said through tears. “It’s just . . . I’ve found something that I lost.”