The Ghost Next Door Read online

  Perry seemed to be weighing whether or not to believe this. “Well, now that your welcome is done, you probably have some place to be.”

  “Oh no, I don’t think I—” Melody began.

  “Don’t you both have lunch detention?”

  Joy’s face grew long. “He’s right, Mel. Maybe we’d better get going. Mr. Harris will tack on another day if we’re late.”

  Perry shrugged at them like, what can you do?

  Melody’s face flushed pink.

  “Catch you later,” Perry said.

  Both girls pursed their lips, hesitating. It was obvious they were reluctant to leave, especially Melody, who had barely taken her eyes off Perry since he’d gotten here.

  He made an exaggerated display of pulling his cell from his pocket to check the time.

  “Yeah, right,” Melody finally said. “We’d better go.”

  “See ya,” Joy added, addressing Perry before scooting off.

  Perry’s gaze trailed the pair as they traveled down the hall. “Hope they didn’t give you trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Claire asked, feeling her own face flame.

  His eyes fell on hers. “They’re not the nicest duo at Blayton, if you know what I’m saying.”

  And boy, hadn’t Claire experienced that firsthand. Still, she said, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “You look like you can probably handle a lot.”

  “Hey!”

  His lips crept up in a grin. “I meant that as a compliment.”

  Claire shifted on her feet, feeling her tensions ease. “Thanks.”

  Perry motioned to the brown bag she gripped in her hand. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Can’t go wrong with that.”

  “Nope.”

  “You got someone to eat with?”

  Claire lowered her chin. “Not exactly.”

  “You do now,” he said when she looked up. “I know a great spot in the sun. No one will bother us there.”

  “You mean it’s far from lunch detention?”

  Perry laughed. “Way far. Clear around the corner and on the other side of the building.”

  “Sounds very cool.”

  Perry led Claire around the big brick building to a back patio dotted with picnic tables. A few facing the football field were empty. He motioned for her to sit, and she slid onto a bench while he sat across from her. “So, how come you’re in Blayton?” he asked, extracting a submarine sandwich from his bag and unwrapping it. It was loaded to the brim with all sorts of meats and cheeses, heaped with lettuce and tomatoes too. Claire stared down at her own sandwich, slightly envious. Of course, she had nobody to blame but herself. She’d insisted long ago that her mom give up on preparing her lunch. She was too old for that and could certainly slap some peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread herself. She took a bite, thinking it wasn’t half bad, though not nearly as delicious as Perry’s sub appeared.

  “It was my mom’s idea. Not her idea, really. Her boss’s. To tell you the truth,” Claire continued, “I don’t think she wanted to come here any more than I did.”

  Perry stopped eating to look at her. “Blayton’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”

  She studied his warm brown eyes. “How long have you been here?”

  He appeared thoughtful a moment. “About three years.”

  “So you went to middle school at Kenan?”

  He swigged from his water bottle. “And man, wasn’t that wild.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that it was middle school, you know?”

  She smiled like she did, but wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “Crazy kids doing crazy stuff.” He shook his head. “And Melody and Joy? Believe it or not, they were arch enemies then.”

  “Really?” She leaned forward with interest. “What happened?”

  “Melody started some kind of rumor about Joy that turned the rest of their girlfriends against her. By now, though, most of them have moved on.”

  “Moved away, you mean?”

  “Yeah. That’s how it is here. People come and go. More than you’d think for a small town.”

  Claire polished off the rest of her sandwich and started her apple, considering this. “Where did they go to? Those other girls?”

  Perry shrugged. “Who knows? It’s not like anybody ever tells us kids. Some mornings you just wake up and people are gone.”

  An unsettling tingle raced down Claire’s spine. She dismissed it as a weird feeling she didn’t understand. “I guess families move sometimes. Mine did.”

  He began chomping on some kettle chips. “Anyway, the point is, after that, neither Melody or Joy had too many friends left, so they decided to stick together. For better or worse.”

  “Seems like for worse to me.”

  “You nailed that one.” Perry chuckled. “But don’t let them get to you, all right? Joy’s not so bad. And believe it or not, Melody has her good side.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Oh, it’s there, I’ve seen it. She just doesn’t like letting people know.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a power thing. She doesn’t want to lose control.”

  “Of…?”

  “Her standing in the school as most popular girl, reigning queen…and closet class bully.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, but mostly I think she’s afraid of herself.”

  To Claire’s amazement, he opened some tinfoil, exposing a mouthwatering chocolate-chunk brownie. “I’m sorry if this is personal, but I’ve got to ask.”

  He met her eyes, and Claire heart rose in her throat. Perry was the cutest boy she’d ever seen. He was certainly the hottest guy she’d ever sat this close to.

  “Ye-es?” he prodded with a grin.

  Claire felt the perspiration build at her brow. “Who makes your lunch?”

  “I do.”

  “You?”

  “Well, okay, I’ll be fair. My uncle made the brownies.”

  “You’re pretty lucky to have an uncle like that.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He split the brownie in two. “Here,” he said, handing her half. “I’ll share.”

  Chapter Three

  After eating her packed lunch, Elizabeth finished cleaning out the desk’s drawers. Most of the paperwork was decades old, the majority of which could be discarded. She set aside anything that seemed important to ask Nathan about later. If he didn’t know, maybe the town librarian would have an inkling regarding whether any of these old news notes held value. Elizabeth sighed and shut the last drawer, eyeing the covered typewriter on the desk. She’d saved its unveiling until the very end. Not knowing what she would find or the condition it might be in, she didn’t want to ruin her hopeful anticipation.

  Elizabeth was long past employing typewriters, and the only one she’d ever used had been electric. But still, the moment she lifted the worn leather cover, she knew she had a real gem in store. There it sat, the most perfect Royal Quiet DeLuxe, in pristine condition, keys gleaming like they’d been polished yesterday. It was a beauty, shiny, and black with stenciled gold lettering. She took a tentative strike at a key, and it clunked heavily against the cartridge, hitting with forceful precision. Elizabeth instinctively massaged her knuckle, thinking her fingers were nowhere near primed to take that sort of daily beating. Folks back then must have gotten used to it. Then again, they hadn’t known any different. Laptop computers with easy-touch keypads were light years away when this was invented. She ran her hand across the top of the machine, thinking it would make a lovely office mascot. She might even position it with some other historic items, like original copies of the Gazette, in the front window. But that could wait until tomorrow. Today, she wanted to be home in time to meet Claire’s bus. While she wouldn’t precisely be standing on the corner—which would embarrass Claire no end—she did want to be there, perhaps with a fresh batch of goodies in the oven. Elizabeth knew thi
s move was hard on Claire and understood the transition couldn’t be easy. She wanted to do everything she could to help smooth things over. But first, she thought, checking the time with a smile, she had a date to keep.

  Martha set down her book and stared at Nathan. “You expecting someone, Sheriff?”

  “Not really,” he said, pacing back toward his office.

  Martha glanced down at the carpet and the invisible path he had worn. “Could have fooled me.”

  Nathan lifted the coffeepot and nonchalantly poured himself a cup. “What would drive you to say that?”

  “Oh…just the fact that you’ve walked back and forth to the front window at least half a dozen times,” she said in a lilting tone. “In the past ten minutes! Say, weren’t you across the street earlier? Helping that newcomer out?”

  Nathan took a sip of java, avoiding her gaze. “I was just being neighborly.”

  She got that smug little pout on her lips like she did when she thought she knew something. “You made her chocolate chip cookies, didn’t you?”

  “I make everyone cookies. Everyone new in town, that is.”

  “Not everyone, Nathan, and you know it.”

  He set his cup on the edge of her desk. “I do so. When the Wilcutts moved in, I took some to them.”

  “As I recall, that was lemon bars.”

  “And the Daniels family—”

  “Strudel.”

  “State what you’ve got to say, Martha.”

  She met his gaze with an impish grin. “Just that your chocolate chip cookies spell L-O-V-E.”

  He squared his chin. “Come on.”

  “Took first place at the fair, didn’t they? As I recall, the blue ribbon read Most Likely Baked Goods by a Bachelor to Make a Woman Fall in—”

  “Hello?” The front door pushed open with a whoosh of air and its dangling bell chimed. Nathan’s face fired hot as Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed. “Oh good! It’s you.”

  “Uh-huh,” Martha clucked, shooting Nathan a glance.

  “Elizabeth! Great.” He cleared his throat, which had suddenly constricted. “You done cleaning up over there?”

  She nodded, smiling at Martha. “I’m Elizabeth Jennings. We’re new in town.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Martha said, beaming. “Martha Holt.” She extended her hand to shake Elizabeth’s. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same,” Elizabeth said. She surveyed the small station with its old-timey radio on display. “Quaint. I’ve got something of that vintage over at my place.”

  “The typewriter?” Martha queried.

  “That’s the one. But how did you—?”

  “Used to work with Pinkney Gale. He was the old news editor before you came. Naturally, that was some time ago.”

  “She probably guessed that from the cobwebs,” Nathan added, settling his hat on his head. He turned to Elizabeth with a smile. “Ready to see the town?”

  “As long as I’m home by four.”

  “That’s when the high school gets out,” Martha explained to Nathan, as if he didn’t know. “My girl goes there too,” she told Elizabeth.

  “Really? That’s great. Maybe she and Claire will be friends.”

  “Better chance of that than of Nathan’s niece stepping in.”

  “Martha, please.”

  Elizabeth turned to Nathan as he led her toward the door. “Your niece?”

  “It’s a long story, but she’s coming along.”

  “You kids coming back here after the tour?” Martha shouted after them.

  Nathan pulled shut the door with a wink. “Don’t count on it.”

  Once on the street, Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Oh my, that Martha’s something! I mean, very nice, but—”

  “Yeah,” Nathan said. “She knows pretty much everything about everybody. So be careful what you tell her.”

  Elizabeth laughed again, liking it here. She’d never lived in a small town before. While it clearly was different from the larger metropolis she was used to, it held its own charm. As they turned toward town, Nathan halted suddenly. “Hang on. Would you mind waiting here a second? I forgot something.”

  “No problem,” she said as he bolted back up the front steps to the station. He slipped through the door, then reappeared a moment later holding a stack of books.

  “What are those?”

  “Promised Martha I’d drop these by the library. We’re stopping by there anyway.”

  Elizabeth eyed him with admiration, thinking that Nathan was the sort of guy who did nice things for everybody, even those who obviously razzed him. She didn’t know what Martha had been teasing him about before she’d walked into the station, but Elizabeth had a heady intuition that it had a lot to do with her. Her and the fact that Nathan had offered to show her around. While it was a generous thing to do, Elizabeth suspected it wasn’t a welcoming service Nathan provided to everybody. “It’s nice of you to introduce me to people.”

  “I’m happy to do it.”

  “You really are some kind of sheriff.”

  He glanced at her, and his hazel eyes twinkled. “Am I?”

  “A good kind, I mean.”

  “A bad kind wouldn’t do.”

  “No.”

  “Elizabeth,” he said, his gaze still on hers, “I’m awfully glad you moved to Blayton.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to be here.” And when she said it, the words rang true. Though she’d initially rejected the move and especially had protested it because of her daughter, something deep inside told Elizabeth this was where she and Claire were meant to be.

  The next hour sped by in a blur of happy chatter and welcoming faces. They stopped by the Dollar Store and the corner market and met Bernie by the Dairy Queen, where he was filling the tank of his cruiser. But their first stop had been at the library, where Elizabeth met Nathan’s sister Belle, the librarian, and he dropped off his haul of books. By the time they walked back to the newspaper shop where Elizabeth had parked, her feet ached and her tongue was all worn out from talking. She hadn’t known they could cover so many miles in such a small area, or that she—normally an introvert—would find herself so suddenly extroverted among a passel of strangers. Something was different about Blayton. Elizabeth felt at ease and alive here. It was almost as if the whole rest of her life had been a dream, and she was just now—at age thirty-three—finally waking up.

  She and Nathan stood on the sidewalk beside her SUV. “Thanks for taking me around today,” she said. “That was special. Really made me feel…included.”

  “I’m glad.” His smile warmed her through and through. “I hope you’ll like it here.”

  She already did. Perhaps a tad too much. Her heart was already beating faster just because he was near. She opened the driver’s door, and Nathan tilted his hat.

  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

  “Forgotten?”

  “About that dinner invitation.”

  Elizabeth’s pulse pounded in her ears. “Yeah, right,” she said, feeling her world flash hot, then cold, then warm again… “I’ll call you.”

  “Just dial 9-1-1,” he said with a grin.

  When Claire walked in the door, Elizabeth was pulling warm banana bread from the oven. “So, how was school?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay? Did you meet anyone?”

  “A couple of kids.” Claire set her backpack on a chair, then dropped down into another. “Smells good. What’s cooking?”

  “Banana bread. With pecans, just the way you like it.”

  Claire seemed mildly distracted. She pulled out her cell and began busily checking for messages. “The service here stinks.”

  “Cell service?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, hon. These are probably old towers.”

  “I don’t think they even have towers in this place.”

  Elizabeth turned the hot loaf onto a cooling rack. “Maybe not.”

  “Even at school, I got only one bar.”
<
br />   “You’re not supposed to be using your phone at school.”

  “I was checking for messages from you,” Claire said smoothly.

  “Hmm, yes. Well, luckily I didn’t call. I’ll remember to phone through the office if I ever need to get in touch for some emergency.”

  Claire’s gaze flitted to the landline. “When’s the Wi-Fi going in?”

  “Sometime this week, I hope.”

  “I was worried we’d have to do dial-up.”

  Elizabeth sputtered a laugh. “I don’t think Blayton is that retro. Want a piece?” she asked, cutting a steaming slice.

  “Sure, thanks.” Claire rose to her feet. “I’ll get the milk.”

  “So,” Claire asked when they were both settled at the table. “How was your day in town?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Yeah. I mean, great. Things went really well.”

  “Meet anyone?”

  “Lots of folks! Nathan was nice enough to show me around.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow. “Sheriff Nathan?”

  Elizabeth felt unnervingly as if she were under a microscope and that Claire could see right through her. At least straight down to her rapidly pounding heart. “What?”

  Claire took a bite of bread. “I think Nathan likes you.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know. He looks at you funny.”

  “Funny how?”

  Claire’s lips broadened in a grin. “Like he thinks you’re hot.”

  “I’m much too old to be hot.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Elizabeth’s face warmed. “Thanks, honey. It’s nice of you to think so.”

  “I’m not the only one…” Claire teased.

  Elizabeth slapped her arm. “What makes you such an expert all of a sudden?”

  “Life.”

  “Really?”

  “And, maybe I met a boy at school.”

  “Claire!”

  “A cool guy. A friend.”

  “Of course, that’s what I thought.” But from the stars in her daughter’s eyes, Elizabeth believed Claire was interested in being more than friends with this boy. “What’s his name?”