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Chapter 9
“The activities center is arranging for a bus to take people up to a Giants’ game.” Grace scanned the list of upcoming events, hoping her father might be more amenable to the idea if she avoided the phrasesenior center. “It’s next weekend, and there’s still room available.”
“Not interested.” Ray moved the shoe token eight spaces on the Monopoly board. “Your turn.”
Grace set the schedule aside and rolled the dice. It was a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, and she disliked the thought of both her and her father holed up inside. She moved her token, landed on Pacific Avenue, and fished out the money to pay him rent.
“Why don’t we go out?” she suggested. “I need to run a couple of errands, then we can head over to the boardwalk. It’s been a while since we rode the Ferris wheel.”
“Waste of money.” He scratched his chin and studied the board. “I’m putting another house on States Avenue.”
He made the purchase and set the little green house on the property. “I meant to ask you if there’s a good electronics store nearby? I could use a bigger TV, maybe one of those high-def screens.”
Grace swallowed an automatic protest. Considering her father spent most of the day and night watching TV, she didn’t think a bigger screen would aid her quest to get him out more.
Part of her felt like she shouldn’t worry about how he chose to spend his time, but for so much of her life, he’d been highly active, if not outright energetic. And while it had been a double blow to lose Berry Farms not long after his heart-disease diagnosis, there was no reason he couldn’t continue living a full life.
“Come with me on my errands,” she suggested. “Then we can grab some lunch and maybe go to the beach for a walk. It’d be good for both of us to get some exercise and fresh air.”
“What about the game?”
“Dad, we’ve been playing it for three days already.” Grace put the dice firmly down on the board. “We can finish it tonight, maybe after we stop at the electronics store. Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Ray sighed as if she’d asked him to trek the Inca Trail, but he pulled on a sweatshirt and went to get his wallet. A few minutes later, they were in her car and heading to the Bliss Cove Library, which was housed in a massive, nineteenth-century Victorian mansion on an isolated stretch of coastline close to the forest.
“Hi, Grace.” The librarian, Bee Delaney, brought over a stack of hardcovers. “I’ve got everything except the Elizabeth Cary biography, but it should be in by Monday. I also grabbed all of Lincoln Atwood’s books for you. Thought you might want to give him another shot, given that you’re working together and all.”
Grace took out her wallet. “Word travels fast.”
“With an author like him in town, of course it does.” Bee took another two books from the hold shelf. “Ray, Grace said you weren’t into the thriller, so I pulled a couple of mysteries for you.”
Though Ray frowned, he picked up one of the books and studied the back-cover copy.
Grace handed Bee her library card. “Hey, did you get my list of suggestions for the Bookmobile?”
“Yes, and I’m hoping to put in orders for multiple copies. Now that we have an actual staff, we can really work to diversify the titles we’re offering.” Bee ran the books through the computer. “We’ve taken the Bookmobile about fifty miles inland, and the kids just love it. I feel like a modern-day version of a packhorse librarian.”
They chatted about Bee’s plans for the mobile library and her continued efforts to increase their funding. The Bliss Cove community had always been supportive of the library, but the old mansion required an increasingly large budget for upkeep and repairs—so much so that the town council had been making noise about moving the library to a modern building closer to downtown.
Bee was determined to keep the library right where it was. Aside from the historical tradition, the house had been built by a sea captain, John Marcus, who was now rumored to haunt the building. Moving the library, Bee claimed, would disrespect both the captain’s spirit and the house itself.
In addition to supporting her friend, Grace fully agreed that it was a good idea not to create any ripples between this world and theotherworld. Though she’d always been a realist about her own life, her literature studies had taught her that supernatural beings could do everything from make mischief to inflict outright harm. There was certainly no sense in antagonizing them.
After Ray stacked the books in the trunk, they drove to the Mousehole. Grace knew the tavern’s food and drinks were more highbrow than her father liked—the owner being an excellent chef—but Ray appreciated the casual atmosphere. The pool tables and the jukebox reminded him of the pub he’d frequented back in Farmertown.
They sat in a booth by the windows. Grace ordered a chicken salad and was pleased when her father chose a turkey-avocado wrap with coleslaw rather than fries on the side. He’d been grumbling for months about the diet his doctor had prescribed, but maybe he was finally starting to realize how important it was.
“Hey, Grace.”
She looked up to find Max Weatherford, the town veterinarian and owner of the pet clinic, maneuvering around the crowded tables toward her.
Max had earned the local nickname of Captain America both for his heroic animal rescues and the fact that he was almost shockingly handsome with sculpted features, bright blue eyes, and thick, golden-blond hair. But he was so nice and easygoing that Grace’s “gorgeous man” anxiety radar had never flickered around him.
Well. Notmuch.
“Hi, Max.” She smiled and gestured across the table. “Have you met my father, Ray? Dad, Max owns the All Critters Pet Clinic. He’s my cat’s vet.”
The two men exchanged greetings and shook hands before Max turned to Grace. “Sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I wanted to ask if there’s been any news about Viola yet.”
