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“Now a toast.”
Here we go, thought Hannah. The Mako show.
“Everyone at this table is special to me,” he began. “Hannah, you’re the best sister a guy could ever have. Bruce, I don’t consider you an in-law. You’re my brother, and one of the smartest people I know.”
Bruce raised a glass stiffly, glanced at Hannah. Hannah put a hand on his leg.
“Cricket, you’re a part of this family, have been forever. And Joshua, you make Cricket happy so that makes you part of our family, too.”
“Best friends forever,” said Cricket, beaming at Mako and Hannah.
“And Liza—simply put, you’re the love of my life. I can’t imagine who I would be without you.”
Liza smiled, then looked down at the table shyly.
Hannah felt lifted out, watching them all from above. Her husband’s admissions echoed around her head. Her sister-in-law looked like she was about to topple over. Joshua was watching Mako with a kind of amused wonder. Bruce just looked blank. Only Cricket seemed happy, at ease. Even Mako seemed—off. There was an uncharacteristic darkness in his tone.
“Life’s not always easy, right?” he said. “Running a company definitely has its ups and downs.”
Bruce squeezed her hand under the table and she turned to look at him. He gave her a flat smile. What kind of things could her husband not live with? Maybe she should have pressed him. Maybe it couldn’t wait.
“But one of the great things about success is sharing it with the people you love. On behalf of us both, welcome to a peaceful weekend of good food, time in nature, and the love of family and friends. Chef Jeff has prepared a feast. Cheers! Let’s eat!”
He raised his glass and everyone followed suit.
“Cheers!” they all said in unison, Cricket laughing.
Just as they lifted their utensils, the lights flickered and went out. They all sat in darkness a second, Hannah’s eyes adjusting, everyone cast in shadow and moonlight.
“Oh, no,” she said.
But as quickly as they went off, they came back up again, the appliances in the kitchen beeping and ringing. There was a collective sigh of relief.
“Must be the ghosts,” said Chef Jeff, appearing by the table.
He’d slipped from the dim of the kitchen, his tall, broad form looming. He’d removed his hat to reveal a blond buzz cut. She wondered if he was about to deliver another lecture about remembering death. As if a mother ever had to be reminded of that. Maybe it was just men who needed to acknowledge how fragile, how temporary, how unsafe life was.
“Ah, yes,” said Mako, face grim. “The cabin is haunted, right?”
Hannah flashed on the blog she’d read. What had it said? A dark history to one of the properties.
“That’s right,” said Chef Jeff with that tight unsmiling smile he seemed to have perfected. Hannah was starting to hate him a little.
He put down a huge platter of meat—ribs, steaks, chicken breasts. Then he returned with sides—macaroni and cheese creamy and gooey, Brussels sprouts crisply browned, potatoes, salad. The silent young woman assisted. Hannah watched that spider tattoo as she filled everyone’s water glasses from the pitcher.
Hannah’s stomach was rumbling, and she really did not want to hear about ghosts.
“A decade ago—more,” said Chef Jeff. “A man murdered his family on this property.”
Liza made a surprised gasp, put her hand to her heart.
Hannah wouldn’t have thought it was possible for her sister-in-law to look more unwell. But she literally grew grayer, paler before Hannah’s eyes, a light sheen of sweat on her brow. The woman needed to be in bed. She needed care and rest.
Hannah was about to speak up, but Chef Jeff obliviously went on.
“Now people say they see the wife wandering through the woods, looking for her children. And some people think they’ve seen the little girl wading in the lake.”
Chef Jeff seemed proud of himself, like he thought this was entertaining.
