Page 23 of Paper Ghosts

Reluctantly, she took her hand away. She was told not to.

She went back to the foyer and took one step down the dark hallway. Then another, and another, until she was in front of the sunroom. She put her ear to the door. There was a television on in there. Whatever program it was, Bailey was sure she would love it. She lifted her hand to knock.

That’s when a single note chimed from the piano in the living room.

Bailey turned her head quickly, then ran back down the hallway.

To her astonishment, there was now a handsome young man standing next to the piano. He looked like someone from decades ago, with his dark hair touching his shoulders and shaggy mustache shaped like a horseshoe. His jeans had bell bottoms so long they touched the floor, and the snaps of his shirt were undone nearly to low-rise at his hips. There was a yellow rose pinned to the wide collar.

He seemed so happy to see her that he didn’t know what to say.

Or maybe he was just happy for her to finally see him.

“You’re not supposed to touch your grandmother’s piano,” Tug said from behind her.

Bailey spun around. “I didn’t.”

“I know it’s not easy, sweetheart.”

“I wasn’t me. It was the man.” She turned back around, pointing.

But he was gone.

That evening, Tug lifted the cloche per usual and took Mim’s note. He read it, then sat back and said, “Huh.”

Bailey was shoveling Hen Fries from the Hen House Café into her mouth, waiting to see if he was going to read it to her.

He looked at her curiously and said, “Did anything else happen today while I was on my call?”

Bailey hesitated. He didn’t believe her about seeing the man, any more than he believed she saw her mother after the crash. So she just shrugged.

“Your grandmother wants you to have tea with her tomorrow.”

“Tea ice cream?” Bailey asked excitedly.

“No, just regular tea. She has it every afternoon in her sunroom.”

“Mim drinks?” Mim not only watched television in there, she had refreshments!

Tug tried not to smile. “Just tea. That’s an important distinction. If anyone asks, don’t say she drinks. Say she drinks tea. Otherwise, people will assume you mean alcohol, and your grandmother hates alcohol.”

“Will you be there?”

“I’m not invited. Girls only.” He put the note card down and said again, “Huh.”

That night, it rained for the first time since they’d moved to Hen Town, sheets and sheets of it. It seemed to fill the house like a flood, rising all the way to the third floor with a watery slosh, though the house remained bone dry. It made shadows come alive, floating through Bailey’s bedroom like items from a shipwreck floating at sea—a guitar, a rose, an umbrella.

She stared at the ceiling after her dad tucked her into bed. She sensed that the man she’d seen earlier was hiding in the attic above her, as far away from the lower floors as possible. He didn’t like rain, not at all.

It seemed to remind him of something he didn’t want to remember.

Saturday morning dawned bright and humid, fogging all the windows. The man remained in the attic despite the rain being long gone, but Bailey flew out of bed still half tangled in sheets.

Today was the day.

She was getting an audience with Mim, at last.

She ran down the hall and woke her dad, only to discover tea meant afternoon tea, and she had to wait hours. After lunch, she dressed early in her favorite plaid purple dress, the pockets secretly filled with jelly beans to share with Mim. Then she sat in her hanging swing chair, daydreaming about charming Mim so much that she would invite her back every day.