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Or I need to be a fairy girl myself—or at least someone who trusts her partner, without questions.
But I’m just not built that way.
I realize just how true that is when Gwen asks me, “If you could take it all back, would you?”
“Before or after the suspicions?”
“After, I guess. Before you had them, there wasn’t a decision to be made, was there?”
“I guess not.”
The problem is, she doesn’t know the whole truth, the fairy tale puzzle lying underneath the mess that has become my life. I can’t tell her or anybody without someone suggesting that I should check myself into the Zeb for a psychological evaluation. Maybe I should anyway, but I’m not going to.
“So would you?” she asks.
I shake my head. “You know me. I can never let something just lie. I have to worry at it until I understand.”
The look in her eyes tells me she gets it.
“But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less now,” she says.
I think of the big ache that fills my whole chest and give her a slow nod.
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
A Haunted House of Her Own
Kelley Armstrong
Tanya couldn’t understand why realtors failed to recognize the commercial potential of haunted houses. This one, it seemed, was no different.
“Now, these railings need work,” the woman said as she led Tanya and Nathan out onto one of the balconies. “But the floor is structurally sound, and that’s the main thing. I’m sure these would be an attractive selling point to your bed-and-breakfast guests.”
Not as attractive as ghosts.
“You’re sure the house doesn’t have a history?” Tanya prodded again. “I thought I heard something in town….”
She hadn’t, but the way the realtor stiffened told Tanya that she was onto something. After pointed reminders about disclosing the house’s full history, the woman admitted there was, indeed, something. Apparently a kid had murdered his family here, back in the seventies.
“A tragedy, but it’s long past,” the realtor assured her. “Never a spot of trouble since.”
“Damn,” Tanya murmured under her breath, and followed the realtor back inside.
Nathan wanted to check out the coach house, to see if there was any chance of converting it into a separate “honeymoon hideaway.”
Tanya was thrilled to see him taking an interest. Opening the inn had been her idea. An unexpected windfall from a great-aunt had come right after she’d lost her teaching job and Nathan’s office-manager position teetered under end-of-year budget cuts. It seemed like the perfect time to try something new.
“You two go on ahead,” she said. “I’ll poke around in here, maybe check out the gardens.”
“Did I see a greenhouse out back?” Nathan asked the realtor.
She beamed. “You most certainly did.”
“Why don’t you go take a look, hon? You were talking about growing organic vegetables.”
“Oh, what a wonderful idea,” the realtor said. “That is so popular right now. Organic local produce is all the rage. There’s a shop in town that supplies all the…”
As the woman gushed, Tanya backed away slowly, then escaped.
