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“Maybe not.” Avery lifted her shoulders and her hands for peace. “Just saying. It fades—she fades. That’s awful. Poor Lizzy. It sounds like she can’t remember, or pull it all out. It comes and goes. Do you think that’s it? Fades in and out, like she does?”
“I think that might be it.”
“It really might. I told you how I got her vibe, smelled her, when I snuck in the building when I was a teenager. And Beckett got that sense of her when they started work on the inn. He’d do walkthroughs at night when he lived over here, talk to her. He named her—that’s probably powerful, right? The naming.”
“And maybe more so because the name was basically the right one.”
“Which just goes to show you.”
“What?” Hope asked.
“Something woo-woo.” Avery wiggled her fingers at her ears as if that made her point. “Anyway, it—she—seemed to get stronger as they brought the place back.”
“Bringing it back helped her come back?”
“In a way, yeah. It’s her place, and it wasn’t happy. You know? It was sagging and dirty and neglected. Broken windows and rubble and piles of pigeon poop. That’s a kind of negative energy, don’t you think?”
“I’d give pigeon poop a big negative.”
“Then the Montgomerys brought it back, step-by-step. And they put a lot of care, even love, into that. It’s more than work.”
“And it shows.”
“And it feels,” Avery added. “You and Carolee do the same thing, every day. The care and love, and keeping it beautiful. Owen thinks Lizzy likes having it pretty again, and having people there. So do I. But maybe it’s got something to do with energy—positive, this time—too.”
Thoughtfully, Hope nodded. “The energy of the place, the people in it helping revitalize the energy of her spirit. It’s a theory.”
“And you’re there. Living there. She’s your ancestor,” Avery pointed out. “That’s got to be more energy.”
“And responsibility,” Hope added. “I feel that. She’s putting so much faith in me, Avery. I don’t want to let her down.”
“You definitely have to tell Owen, but I think you should talk to Ryder since she mentioned him. Maybe she’ll come back when he’s there with you, talk to both of you. Maybe, if it’s the two of you, a stronger vibe. I don’t know, it’s possible, and she’ll be able to tell you Billy’s whole name.”
“It’s worth a try. Take this for Owen.” She passed Avery the note. “I made another copy.”
“Naturally. They’re all doing shop work today on my bar and built-ins. You could run over, talk to them.”
“I can’t leave Carolee when we’re so busy.”
“I’ll go by on my way home. They’re planning on putting in some shop time tomorrow. I can let you know.”
“Tomorrow afternoon I could manage an hour or two. They work at their mother’s, right? In that big building that looks like another house.”
“That’s it. I’m not working tomorrow, so anytime works for me. I can alert Clare. If she doesn’t have anything going on, we can have a full-out ghost meeting.”
Other voices, other opinions, other theories. She could use all she could get. “I’ll work it out with Carolee. I should get back to her. They’ll be turning the rooms soon, and we’re going to have a truckload of sheets and towels.”
“I know you don’t usually schedule in a nap, but make an exception today. You look tired.”
“I have on five pounds of concealer, expertly blended.”
“I know you, so concealer can’t fool me. Grab a nap, or at least have Carolee run the show tonight.”
“Since The Pill’s out of the equation, I might do that. She’d have fun with the rest of this group. Give Clare the lowdown. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“If Lizzy comes back, call me!”
“I will.” Lighter in step, Hope went out, then frowning, checked out the sky.
Clouds slid in over the sun. Rain might not have been in the forecast, but she knew a threatening storm when she saw one.
Which meant guests would probably come back early from their plans for the day, or hunker down and not leave at all.
The potential nap, she decided, just got crossed off the list.
CHAPTER TEN
HOPE WOUND UP THE LANE TOWARD JUSTINE’S LATER than she’d planned on Sunday afternoon. Still, she’d enjoyed the drive in the summer green along the curvy roads with her windows down and the wind lifting her hair.
A day tailor-made for a convertible, she thought. She’d toyed with buying one once, but hadn’t been able to justify the purchase with her urban life. And now she couldn’t justify it due to the long, often snowy country winters.
It was hell being practical.
She liked the way Justine’s house seemed tucked away in the woods and still managed to sprawl. And the gardens, she noted, put on a pretty spectacular show.
She saw why when she spotted Justine yanking weeds with a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her head, purple gloves on her hands, and a bold red tub beside her.
When Hope pulled up, nosing behind a trio of trucks, a pack of dogs raced up to sniff and wag and dance. Justine’s two Labs, Atticus and Finch. Hope counted off as she eased open the car door. Clare’s family’s Yoda and Ben, Ryder’s D.A., and … Oh, the puppy!
The sniffing and wagging continued as she scrubbed heads. “Hi there. You must be Spike. Look how cute you are!”
Justine, earbuds dangling, clapped her hands. “All right, boys, back off some.” As she spoke, a pug waddled around the big red tub.
“Oh, they’re everywhere.” Laughing, Hope started forward as Justine hefted the weed-filled tub and walked to meet her.
“Yeah, they are. This one’s Tyrone, and a little overwhelmed.”
“Everybody else is so big. Hello, Tyrone.”
“He’s only got one good ear, and he’s shy yet. But he’s got a sweet nature once he’s got his bearings.”
The trio of boys raced toward them from the direction of the shop, Murphy pumping hard to bring up the rear. Immediately, the dogs—sans Tyrone—ran to surround them.
“Mom’s coming,” Harry announced. “We’re thirsty.”
“She’s going to get us drinks. Can we have Specials? Can we, Gran?”
Justine flipped at the brim of Liam’s ball cap. She’d started stocking jugs of V-8 Splash, and her Special was a tiny dollop of ginger ale added to the cup. “Okay by me. Take this one with you.” She motioned toward the pug. “And see he doesn’t poop on my floor.”
“Okay!”
Murphy wrapped his arms around Hope’s legs, looked up with a face shining with joy. “We got lots of dogs. We got more dogs than anybody else in the universe.”
“So I see.”
“Wait! Wait for me!” he shouted when his brothers ran off.
“Seems like it was just me and my two dogs for a while,” Justine said, carting her weeds to her composter. “Though the boys were always thinking up reasons to come by and check on me. Now I’ve got those three and a wolf pack.”
“And you love it.”
“Every second. Clare!” Justine fisted a hand on her hip as Clare walked down the slope from the shop. “I’d’ve gotten those boys drinks.”
“I can use the exercise and an indoor seat. I didn’t hear you drive up,” she said to Hope. “It’s noisy back there.”
“It’s going to be noisy inside, too,” Justine pointed out.
“That I’m us
ed to. They kicked me out of the shop anyway. They’re going to start staining and varnishing something, and didn’t want me around the fumes.”
“I didn’t raise idiots. Go on inside. I’m nearly done here so I’ll be along to help you ride herd. Hope, why don’t you go out there to the shop, get a gauge on when they’re going to take a break.”
“All right.”
She walked toward the shop, and the dogs came tearing after her. Finch was wild-eyed, with a ratty, slobbery ball in his mouth. “I’m not touching that,” she told him.
He dropped it at her feet. “Still not touching it.”
He repeated the process every few steps, all the way to the shop with its covered porch crowded with old chairs, tables, window frames, and various salvage she couldn’t identify. Music banged out the open windows along with male voices raised in what might have been a discussion, debate, or argument.
She poked her head in the door and saw men, a lot of toothy tools, piles of lumber, stacks of paint, shelves jammed with cans and jars, and God knew what else.
Finch hustled right in, dropped the ball at Ryder’s feet. Ryder barely glanced down before he kicked the ball through the window.
The dog soared through after it. There was a crash, a thud. As Hope scrambled back to make sure the dog was all right, Finch rolled with the ball clamped in his teeth, raced back into the shop.
“For heaven’s sake,” she murmured. She walked back, this time going in. And had just enough time to lift her hands in defense and catch the ball before it hit her in the face.
“Good reflexes,” Ryder commented.
“Yuck.” She heaved the ball outside. A deliriously joyful Finch flew after it.
“And not a bad arm.”
“You might look where you’re kicking that disgusting thing.”
“It would’ve gone out the window if you hadn’t blocked it.” He pulled a bandana out of his pocket.
She only eyed it when he offered it, and instead reached in her purse for a mini bottle of antibacterial gel. “No, thanks.”
“Hope! Look at my bar.” Avery, in cargo shorts, hiking boots, and a wildly green bandana tied around her hair looked more like one of the trekkers who came off the Appalachian Trail than a restaurateur. She negotiated the maze of power tools and lumber to grab Hope’s hand and pull her through. “These are the panels that go on the bar. Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Hope didn’t know much about carpentry, but she thought she saw potential in
