Page 14 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I froze, my panicked gaze meeting her amused one.

“I make all the baked goods myself. Watching you eagerly devour that is a compliment, I promise.”

Even the lights in the café seemed to brighten with approval, and I sank into my plush chair in relief. I washed my bite down with a sip of the hot chocolate and almost rudely ignored her once again.

“What kind of magic is in this?” I whispered, only half joking. “Seriously, it’s either magic or a blood sacrifice because I suddenly want to turn this into oxygen and inhale it for the rest of my life.”

Briony laughed, and the sound carried. She had a great laugh, the kind that was true and deep, that came from the belly and sounded like it was meant only for you. It instantly endeared me to her, not that I wasn’t already drawn in by her presence. The woman looked like she belonged here, like hearths belonged in houses.

Her hair was pulled back loosely, curls escaping wherever they pleased. She wore an apron dusted faintly with flour and sugar, the string knotted with practiced ease, and as she settled once more across from me, her eyes sharpened—still kind, but in a way that said she missed very little and judged even less.

“So,” she said, smiling over the rim of her mug. “Tell me why you’re looking to work in Amber Grove.”

Fuck, wasn’t that a loaded question?

The steam from my drink curled upward, slow and curious, and I swore the café listened. Somewhere behind the counter, a spoon shifted slightly, as if leaning in. I thought about my answer and attempted to keep it to half-truths. She didn’t need to know I was running for my life or that I was socially awkward at the best of times and a shy recluse at the worst.

“I needed a change in my life,” I explained. “And living somewhere quiet, a small town where people smile and say hello, seemed like the perfect place.”

What that meant: I needed a place to hide, temporarily, where it was peaceful, and the people were welcoming to outsiders. It allowed me the chance to blend in and rest.

The café hummed in approval, as if it knew the truth I didn’t speak and enjoyed my presence anyway. Briony nodded, finger tapping once against her mug.

“And experience?” she asked. “Can you make foam hearts on lattes?”

I tried to contain my wince, but her mischievous smile told me she saw it.

“I can…try?” I was more than willing to learn. “I don’t panic under pressure.”

Holding an illusion while your home burned down around you taught one how to think with a level head.

Her smile widened. “That’s useful here, for sure.”

The espresso machine released a little hiss, like laughter, and the café settled around us. The air grew warmer and the light softer. I felt it then, the faint brush of ancient magic. It was curious but not hostile. The café wasn’t scanning my power so much as weighing my intentions and trying to figure out if I was going to bring chaos or comfort.

I let out a slow breath. “I won’t cause trouble,” I swore, meeting Briony’s gaze. “I promise.”

The answer was meant for the café, but somehow I had a feeling that they both had a hand in the decision. A sugar jar lid gave a soft, satisfied clink, and Briony chuckled, like she heard a private joke.

“You know, this place has opinions about people.”

I smiled, just a little. “I can tell.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the decision being up to a semi-sentient building, but it was out of my hands either way.

“Well.” She pushed her chair back and stood. I rushed to follow. “I’ve been dying for help, fall season is our busiest, and the café seems to like you.”

Said café warmed another degree, and somewhere in the back, a timer dinged.

Briony offered her hand. “Can you start tomorrow morning?”

We shook on it, and I became the proud recipient of a new apron with a little embroidered candy caramel on the front. The café glowed as I made my way to the door, buzzing with the quiet certainty of something ancient and benevolent that had just made a very good choice.

I hoped it still felt that way a month from now.

Wes

Ghosts didn’t sleep. Not in any real way, but after seventy years, there were periods when my soul checked out. I sort of drifted and dissolved into the walls until the house itself felt like a second body. This morning, something yanked me awake hard enough that I fully formed before realizing.