Page 8 of Ghost Town Boogie

But she wasn’t. There were no tremors like the ones her mother had been describing. Not here, in Seawolf Beach. This was… something else.

A photo drifted up and out of the box to hang in the air. The snapshot of Jack and Colt, taken at a local park when they’d been… Sixteen? Seventeen?… moved closer to her face. It shimmied, as if being shaken by an invisible hand.

She wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t hallucinating. No, this was real. Impossible as it was, as it should’ve been, this was happening. The picture of Jack and Colt floated in the air all on its own. After a few heart-stopping seconds it began to move unsteadily. Around her, in front of her, behind her. And then it fell, as if it had been dropped.

The photo landed on top of the box with Colt’s name on it.

After a restless night, Colt awakened with a new resolve. No one in Jack’s family needed to know his ghost was hanging around. It wasn’t his job to tell them he hadn’t abandoned them, that he’d died. He might be tempted to tell Anna when and if he saw her again, but he’d resisted temptation before. This would be no different. It wouldn’t be long before they finished preparing the Miller house for sale. When that was done Anna would go back to Nashville, Nina would move to Florida, and maybe when they were gone Jack would go, too.

If he didn’t, he could live in that house with strangers until the time came.

Or worse, maybe once Jack’s family moved away he’d relocate to the depot. Could he? Would he want to?

If only this ability came with a handbook. Tips and Tricks of Dealing with Your Glimpse into the Afterlife; Rules and Suggestions for Your Friendly Neighborhood Ghost.

If he cared to he could write that book himself, interviewing the spirits in the depot when there were no customers in the store. Assuming they knew more than he did, which they probably didn’t. They all seemed to just be hanging out, as clueless as he was. He didn’t want to strike up conversation. He didn’t want to ask questions. For years he’d done his best to ignore his invisible-to-everyone-else companions. Some would not be ignored, but most left him alone.

Most.

He showered — without Maude today, thank goodness — dressed, and headed downstairs. Today, in addition to running the store, he’d order a cleaning service and some new furniture, which could be moved into the newly vacated rental house on Pine Street. If it was summertime he’d have to wait at least a week for both, but fall was different. Until the late-October music festival, the town would be relatively quiet. He might be able to move in this weekend, though that would be pushing it.

Since the house was ghost free, at least for now, it would be a nice place to go at the end of the day. He could sleep without waking up to Maude peering over the end of the bed. Dress without suggestions about what to wear from spirits no one but he could see. No, he did not have a Sinatra t-shirt. No Johnny Mathis, either.

Some of the ghosts ignored him, and he was happy to return the favor. Others wanted to be friends. Either way, they’d been disrupting his life for the past twelve years. Maybe he didn’t have to wait for new furniture. He’d wait for the cleaning to be done, though.

From here on out he’d take a different route when he walked to the Pine Street cottage. Most of Seawolf Beach was laid out in a grid, so he had options. He had no desire to see Jack sitting on the Millers’ front porch. Colt could do without the guilt of knowing his old friend was dead and he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. Well, the guilt would remain, but he could do without the reminder. He’d love to take Anna out to dinner while she was here, catch up, see what she’d been up to since leaving Seawolf Beach. She was a reminder of a good time in his life, when he’d been happy and naïve, when he’d had parents and friends and been ignorant of the spirits that had remained invisible, quiet.

But he wouldn’t. He’d never been great at keeping secrets; he’d always been a terrible liar. More than once he’d been told that he couldn’t even play poker properly. There was no stoic poker face for Coltrane Hart.

The ghosts were quiet this morning. They were here, but happy to chat amongst themselves and leave him alone. He tried to keep them happy by putting on an old Johnny Mathis record. That smooth voice seemed to captivate them.

Avoiding the Miller house would be easy enough, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about Anna coming here, to his place of business, his home for short while longer. If she stopped by he was going to have to look her in the eye and lie. It would be a lie of omission, but still, not the truth as he knew it. Not that she was likely to believe him if he did try to tell her what he knew.

As if thinking about Anna conjured her, there she was. She parked her little blue Honda in the no parking zone directly in front of the door, opened the trunk, and lifted an obviously heavy cardboard box. Records, most likely. He had told her he’d look them over…

After muttering a curse he ran to the door to open it for her. She carried the box to the checkout counter and placed it on the floor, not even trying to be gentle. His name was written on the top of the box that clinked and rattled when it hit the floor. Not records.

“You have a dumpster, right?” Anna asked. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept for days. The shorts she wore had seen better days, but they showed off really great legs. Just what he didn’t need to notice. She looked up at him with… oh, those blue eyes he shouldn’t notice, but did.

Anna and Jack were so different in many ways. Anna was blond and blue-eyed, like her father. Jack had Nina Miller’s dark hair and brown eyes. They didn’t really look like siblings, until you studied the shape of their chins and their smiles, which were identical. Their personalities were opposite, as well. Anna was sweet and kind. He could see now that Jack had never been either.

“Out back,” he said.

“I hope there’s plenty of room, because I have more,” she said, turning and walking toward the front entrance.

“Pull around,” he said before she reached the door. “I’ll meet you with this box and we’ll unload it all.”

Anna nodded and headed for her car, pushed the trunk closed, and drove off.

Maude, again. “She’s pretty.”

“She’s trouble,” Colt answered as he lifted the box with his name on it.

“If customers come in, I’ll alert you,” the ghost said. “You just take your time helping out that nice young girl.”

“Thanks.” There was an occasional benefit to having ghostly help in the store.

“And if you want to have sexual relations with her, I’ll keep everyone away from…”