Page 14

I felt bad for a whole new reason as I slung my backpack over my shoulder and slammed my hat on my head. “I’ll be back to check on the results of the detectors,” I said, switching to my soothing voice. It was the best I could do to not be weird and to let him know I really did like him.

“I’ll be waiting,” Marco said, then walked me to the door like a gentleman.

I turned back to him once I was outside on the porch in the chilly October night. “I’m sorry I’m so weird,” I said, thrusting out a hand to him like we’d just met.

Marco’s eyes went wide, and he rushed to grasp my hand. “You’re not weird at all,” he said. “Eccentric, yes, but all the best people are.”

I gripped his hand a little too tightly, like I was holding onto that lifeline of a compliment. I didn’t get that many, and that one felt especially…promising.

The moment couldn’t last forever. I dropped his hand and hiked my backpack higher on my shoulder. “Bye,” I said lamely, then turned and hurried down the porch stairs and into the night.

Marco’s old Victorian wasn’t the only thing haunted. For the next few days, I was haunted by the spectacle I’d made of myself by running out when I should have stuck around and seen where things could go. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I also wasn’t going to let it get the better of me. I’d always stood up to my problems and faced them head on, so that’s what I did as soon as I could.

Given that we had two funerals on Sunday and a handful of consultations on Monday, the soonest was Tuesday morning. It was a sunny but windy day, and the more dramatic of my black coats I was wearing that day swirled around me as I crossed Glenside Ave, colorful leaves blowing all around in my wake and my bright hair ruffling like I’d been electrocuted.

I’ll admit it, I kind of loved the image I presented. It gave me a shot of courage as I pulled open the door of Provisions and strode inside.

Where I was immediately disappointed.

“Is Marco in?” I asked the handsome guy who had to be near his forties who was setting out what looked like an order of jams on a shelf near the window.

The man looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the full sight of me. His stare robbed me of all the confidence I’d gathered on the walk over. Finally, he said, “No, he’s not.” I was disappointed for three seconds before he said, “He’s next door at Common Grounds, meeting with the Meyers brothers about the Halloween party.”

I smiled despite myself. The yearly Common Grounds Halloween party was one of the few times the neighborhood thought I looked cool instead of freaky.

“Thanks,” I said, waved to the man, then headed back out and down one door to the café.

Sure enough, as I walked in, jingling the bell above the door and startling the short line of customers at the counter in search of their morning caffeine fix as I did, I spotted Marco sitting with Sam and Gilbert Meyers at a table in the café’s backroom. I fought past the wave of self-consciousness that tried to glue my feet to the floor and strode in the direction of the meeting.

It wasn’t until I’d almost reached the table that I realized I had no business whatsoever butting in on the meeting, especially since I was there to see Marco.

I nearly froze or ran away until Marco perked up like I’d brought a giant chocolate cake with me and said, “Bastian! Just the guy we need at this discussion.”

Miraculously, Sam and Gilbert looked like they agreed with him. Gilbert even said, “Perfect. You’re exactly who we need to help figure out how we can promote local businesses at the party.”

I blinked. The awkward kid who had always been picked last for sports in me had no idea what was going on. Fortunately, the grown adult who had been to a ton of therapy knew how to handle the situation.

“I’d be glad to help,” I said, pushing myself to close the distance to the table.

Sam pulled out one of the chairs for me to sit in as he said, “We’ve usually gone with a display of business cards on one of the tables during the party, but Marco here has come up with the idea of iced cookies with the logos of local shops printed on them.”

“They can do all sorts of things with printing on icing these days,” Marco said, bubbling with enthusiasm in that way that made my heart leap in my chest. “I personally think that people would be more likely to pick up a cookie than a business card.”

“My argument is that they’ll just eat the cookie without remembering what the business is,” Gilbert said, sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms.

They all glanced at me.

I didn’t know what to do for a second. Nobody ever asked for my opinion.

Then again, I didn’t usually put myself in a position where people could ask my opinion.

“What if you do both?” I asked with a shrug. “The cookies are a great idea. You could put them on a table with corresponding business cards, sort of like a draw. Take a cookie, take a card.”

“Yes!” Marco exclaimed so loudly that Sam jumped, then chuckled at himself. “Sorry,” Marco apologized, blushing. “I just think that’s a great idea. You could make it mandatory that people pick up a business card when they take a cookie.”

“Or you could make a game out of people finding the card that matches their cookie when they take one,” I suggested.

“I like that,” Sam said, smiling at me like I was something new he’d never known he was missing before. “We’re becoming famous around here for games, that’s for sure.”