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Yeah, but the company’s insurance won’t allow it. Either I stay the night or the deal is off.
That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a babysitter.
Afraid to be alone with me?
What? No!
I’m not afraid of you. She texted.
Good. He texted back. Because I’m not afraid of you either.
Tom opened the door to Can Buy Me Love and stepped back into the nineteen-sixties. Dionne Warwick’s Walk On By played in the background on the record player Lauren had bought at a garage sale last month. Initially, the record player had seemed defective—until Tom had suggested a simple cleaning, turning the old machine almost as good as new. Along with the record player, she’d bought about a dozen or so vinyl albums featuring everything from The Beatles to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Stuff his grandparents had listened to.
Funny, how Lauren was into all this retro stuff. Even as teenagers she’d been a little quirky. She loved old movies. Old music. Old things in general. Always going to estate sales and poking around Good Will shops. Tom had thought it was a hobby she’d outgrow, but she’d turned it into a kind of obsession, going so far as to dress like she lived in another decade.
He spotted her behind a rack of mini-skirts. She wore a short dress with lots of bright flowers. On another woman it might have looked dumb, but not on Lauren. Looking at her now, humming along to the music as she transferred skirts from one rack to another, it was hard to imagine her as the scared eighteen-year-old girl who’d come to him that night twelve years ago in tears. She’d managed to turn her love for vintage clothing into a business. One he hoped like hell worked out for her. She deserved success. But then, she deserved a lot of things. Especially the things he hadn’t been able to give her.
She glanced up and spotted him. “Tommy!” She came over and stood on tiptoe to give him a hug, then stepped back to inspect him. It was obvious she didn’t like what she saw. She planted her fists on her hips, making her look almost formidable despite the fact that he stood a full foot taller. “How much sleep have you had this week?” she demanded.
He rubbed his palm against the scratchy five-o’clock shadow covering his chin. “Do I look that bad?”
“You look tense.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “When was the last time you got laid?”
“Why? Are you offering?”
Lauren snorted. “In your dreams.” Then her expression softened. “I’m worried about you. Henry says you’ve been working night and day on this new rec center project. You know, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“I got kids poking around at all hours of the night messing with that old building. It’s a real insurance nightmare. But come tomorrow morning that building comes down. Then things will get back to normal.”
“You mean, the building’s still intact? I thought it was supposed to be demolished today.” Only she didn’t really sound surprised.
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated, huh?” She resumed loading skirts onto the rack. “Guess who I ran into this afternoon? Allie Grant. Did you know she was back in town?”
He felt like one of those lab rats who’d been tricked into going into a maze they couldn’t get out of. “She’s the reason I’m here. I need a favor.”
“Oh?”
Yep. He was right. Lauren Handy Donalan sounded intrigued. He knew from experience that there was no use fighting it so he gave her the low down on the events of the past twenty-four hours.
“A ghost? Well, that’s certainly interesting. And you’re helping Allie with the investigation?”
Helping wouldn’t be the way Allie would put it. In her eyes she’d probably say he was more like hindering. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”
“Of course I do. Just because I’ve never seen one doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
Tom squelched a moan.
“She looks great, doesn’t she?”
“Who?”
She rolled her eyes. “Who do you think? Allie Grant.”
“I guess.” Allie looked better than great. But despite the good relationship he and Lauren had managed to maintain since the divorce, he didn’t think it very gentlemanly to discuss another woman with his ex.
“She’s still into you, you know.”
