Page 48
The alarm was a good idea. Practical, even. It might keep her from walking off into the night again like some half-possessed dreamer.
But it also meant Sully had no reason to sleep on her floor again.
Kissing him that morning had felt right—terrifyingly right—but logic had caught up fast.
Relationships had never been simple for her, and with the growing chaos surrounding the mansion, her focus needed to stay on work, not… that. Whatever that was.
Still, she owed him a thank-you for what he’d done.
She glanced at the small kitchen. Maybe she could bake something—a proper thank-you. But honestly, she doubted her scatterbrained attempt at cookies could compare to Marrissa Lane’s perfect ones from the bakery. Her mouth watered at the thought of them. A quick stop there would be better, she decided, and checked the time.
A knock rattled the door.
“Ms. York?”
She opened it to find Garrett on the porch, shoulders hunched, toolbox in hand.
“Morning,” he said with an awkward half-smile.
“Morning—Sully mentioned you’d be coming. Come in.”
He nodded, stepping inside and glancing around like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome. “He told me you needed an alarm.”
Amy laughed lightly. “Apparently I do. Door’s right there. If you can make it beep, flash lights, and scream loudly enough to wake the dead, go right ahead.”
Garrett grinned. “Yes, ma’am. This one’ll do the trick.”
As he set to work near the front door, conversation meandered easily enough. He was awkward about being in her home, but friendly in that island way everyone shared after too many winters together.
“So,” he said as he routed wires neatly along the molding, “Sully said to check with you first. I was thinking I might talk to the ghost-hunting crew about… well, about what happened in the cellar. If they’re interested. After that experience, I would like to know if I really saw something, or if I’m losing my marbles.”
Amy crossed her arms, frowning slightly. “Really? I didn’t realize word had spread that much.”
He tightened a screw, then looked up. “I mean, people’ve been talking about ’em all week. Can’t sit at Annie’s without three people bringing it up,” Garrett said, warming to the tale. “Folks are trying to figure out if they’re real TV people or just a bunch of mainlanders scamming you. Some think it’s good for business. Some think it’s bad luck.”
She sighed. That tracked.
The island’s rumor mill turned faster than the tides, and she’d known inviting Mason and his crew could stir things up, but hearing the confirmation from Garrett still made anxiety curl in her chest. She could already imagine the looks, the small-town suspicions, whispered guesses about her project—and her sanity.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to find out more about your experience,” she said. “It’s fine with me, but it’s up to you. Did Sully explain that whatever they film, they can use, even if you don’t like it…” Her phone buzzed again on the counter, interrupting her thoughts.
“Excuse me a moment,” she murmured, stepping away.
“Ms. York?” The mayor’s assistant’s warm yet carefully formal voice filled her ear. “This is Mary Callahan, Mayor Hartwell’s assistant. He wanted to discuss your application for the preservation grant sometime today. Would you have a moment for him this morning? He would come to you.”
Amy blinked, pulse quickening. “Of course.”
“Wonderful,” she continued. “The mayor says he’ll be over around ten, if that works.”
“Yes, that works,” Amy said, forcing her tone steady. A house call may or may not be a good thing. Maybe he wanted to see the progress since his last visit?
Somehow, she doubted that was the case.
When the call ended, she set the phone down slowly, thumb drumming against the counter.
Perfect timing, she thought. Small-town gossip, ghost hunters, and now the mayor. It felt like the entire island was deciding what to make of her all at once.
Behind her, Garrett tightened another screw, and the alarm gave a cheerful electronic ding.
