Page 85 of Specters & Spotlights

Kevin drifted nearby, unusually quiet.

That was all she wanted to say. All she could say. Because the facts were supposed to make it impossible. A person who was cremated didn’t show up at a cast party. Didn’t whisper her name in a voice so sharp it felt like it had claws. Didn’t pull the edges of her world apart like it was paper.

She folded her arms, suddenly cold.

“So that’s it,” she said, with forced finality. “It’s not him. It can’t be. I must have… misheard. Or misremembered. Maybe I didn’t really deal with everything back then, and now it’s bubbling back up. That makes sense, right?”

Nick didn’t answer immediately, just looked at her with the kind of expression people save for skittish animals and broken things.

She gave a too-bright laugh. “I mean, I know ghosts. Ghosts I can handle. This isn’t a ghost thing. This is just my imagination running away with me.”

But her hand tightened slightly around the coffee cup. She didn’t quite believe herself. Not completely.

Nick was just opening his mouth to say something when the door creaked open again.

Graham stepped into the wig room holding two coffees. The paper cups steamed gently in the cool air of the backstage hallway, the scent curling toward Elise before he even spoke.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, extending the cup like an offering.

She glanced down at the coffee already in her hand—Nick’s coffee. Then back at Graham’s. “Oh,” she breathed, startled into a laugh. “I’ve been blessed twice over.”

Graham followed her gaze. “Oh. Double delivery.” He looked between them. “Didn’t realize we were competing.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “We’re not. But if we were, mine has oat milk and moral support.”

Elise snorted, juggling the two cups like awkward trophies. “I guess I’m just extremely caffeinated and emotionally validated today.”

He hadn’t heard the conversation she was just having, didn’t know the ache she was still carrying from last night. But he’d thought of her anyway. Brought her warmth in a cup, like it was nothing. Like kindness didn’t have to be earned.

And that—more than the flirtation, the lingering glances across the green room, or even the impossibly perfect hair—was what got her.

Graham smiled, but his eyes had narrowed slightly. He was reading her, the way he might read a script—checking for beats that didn’t quite land. “You okay?”

She offered him a tight smile. “Depends which plane of reality you’re asking from.”

Before anyone could say more, the door opened a third time.

Lark stepped inside, the click of her shoes breaking the spell. She was early—fifteen minutes to call time—but she paused in the doorway, sensing the shift in the air. Her gaze scanned the room: four cups of coffee. Two leading men. One Elise.

Then, slowly, her eyes drifted to the patch of floor near the wig station where candles had glowed last night.

Elise saw it happen—the flash of awareness. Lark didn’t just notice. She knew.

There was a flicker behind her eyes—fear, maybe, or guilt—but it was gone as quickly as it came. She crossed the threshold with a smile that was a little too bright.

“Well,” she said brightly, “clearly I’ve interrupted either a summoning circle or a very elaborate caffeine intervention.”

Elise let herself laugh, grateful for the break in tension. “Honestly? Could be both.”

But she didn’t miss it—the faint tightness at Lark’s temples, the silent scan of shadows, the way she kept her back to the wall like she needed to see every exit.

The room began to hum with motion as more cast and crew filtered in, drawn to their usual pre-show rhythms. Chatter picked up, costumes rustled, and someone started tuning a cello in the pit.

Elise motioned for Lark to sit. She slipped behind her, hands already dividing her hair into smooth, practiced sections. The pins clicked softly against the countertop, each one a stitch in the quiet spell Elise wove to keep herself steady.

Lark sat silently at first, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but Elise could feel it—something about her posture, the quick glance she shot sideways, the way she didn’t quite meet Elise’s eyes. She had something on her mind.

“You good?” Elise asked softly, keeping her tone light but sincere. “I mean… I know everything with Ellen has been hard. But if there’s something else—something you need⁠—”