That Thing You Do (Whispering Bay Romance Book 1) (Volume 1) (26 page)

“You sure about that?” Roger asked.

“You were at the séance. What do you think?”

“I think ghosts come in all shapes and forms,” he said, following her gaze. “Maybe
yours has some unfinished business.”

Eyes off Tom, Allie
. She felt herself blush. “Oh, no, that’s definitely finished.”

“Nothing’s ever finished. Unless you want it to be.”

“Generally, I’d say that’s good advice, but in this case…” A breeze danced in from the gulf, bringing with it the warm smell of salty air. And something else. It was faint, but still enough for Allie’s nose
to pick up. Lemons. No, not lemons, Jean Nate. She sighed.

“Look what I found.” Roger bent over and picked up a small bright object from the ground. “Penny for your thoughts?” He held up the shiny copper coin as if he’d found a winning lottery ticket.

“Some people would say they’re not worth picking up anymore.”

“Good thing I’m not some people.” Roger pocketed the penny. He motioned
to his camera. “I think I got what I need here. You hungry?”

“Starved,” Allie admitted.

“Good. Because I make a mean omelet. How about you let this old man make you some breakfast? Maybe between the two of us we can figure out who wrote that infamous email.”

“I
hope you like
grocery bought coffee,” Roger yelled from the kitchen. “I don’t keep any of that fancy
Star Wars
stuff here.”

Although he couldn’t see her, Allie still smiled. “Regular coffee is fine.” She walked around, inspecting his home.

The living room was surprisingly modern. Leather furniture, hardwood floors, and lots of black and white photographs on the walls. Mostly
landscapes, a lot of them foreign looking—pictures of snow-capped mountains and deserts, but Allie recognized a few of them as local shots. There was a picture of the gulf at sunset that took her breath away. And lots of pictures of a pretty woman with dark hair and sparkling eyes.

Was Roger offering to help her with Concerned Citizen because he missed his wife and didn’t have anything better
to do? It occurred to Allie that she didn’t care what fueled his motivation. She liked Roger. Having him make her breakfast was no hardship on Allie’s part.

He came up behind her and offered her a cup of coffee, then set two plates down on the table in front of the couch.

“Did you take all these photos?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes from the images on the walls.

“Yep. With
an old fashioned camera. Like the kind I used today. Remember those?”

“I do remember those. Still use one myself from time to time, too.”

“Well, how about that?” He grinned and took a sip of his coffee.

Allie stared down at her mug. “How did you know I take it black?” She actually preferred some cream in her coffee, but she’d learned over the years not to be fussy where her caffeine
was concerned. She took a sip. It was strong and surprisingly good.

“No self-respecting journalist takes their coffee any other way. I should know. I used to be one myself. If you count twenty years working for
Life
magazine,” he said.

“You worked for
Life
?” She went back to studying the photos. Of course he had worked for
Life
. “And National Geographic, too, I bet.”

He winked
at her. “Among a few others.”

Allie’s voice softened. “She was very pretty.”

He followed her gaze to a picture of a woman sitting on a large rock. She wore khakis and hiking boots and a knit cap. Her straight dark hair hung well below her shoulders and her smile was…breathtaking. Like she was the happiest woman on the planet.

“I met Janice when I was fifty. She was thirty-five
and divorced. I was a confirmed bachelor but I still married her after our third date. She died last year. Cancer. We never had any kids.”

“I’m sorry.” She wished there was something better to offer than that, but she knew from experience that there simply wasn’t. “Three dates, huh?”

“When you know, you know.” He cleared his throat and pointed to the omelets. “Food’s getting cold.”
They sat on the couch, side by side, eating their breakfast. “Let’s get down to it. You want me to help you figure out who Concerned Citizen is?” Allie nodded. “Then start thinking like a journalist. Who had the most to gain from you investigating that old building?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someone who didn’t want it to come down?”

“We all voted on it. The whole town. We need a new rec
center. Kids need a place to play basketball. A community swimming pool. It’s best for everyone.” He set down his plate and pulled a photo album from a nearby bookshelf and handed it to her.

Allie began leafing through the pages. The album was full of pictures of the senior center. She recognized a few of the pictures that Betty Jean had given her from the Whispering Bay Gazette. “You took
pictures for the Gazette, too?”

“Just a few. After Janice and I got married we moved here to live on the beach. I had some family money and was tired of traveling. Phoebe lived nearby so we thought it would be a good place to raise kids. Never had the kids but we had a good life.”

Allie lay the album down. “Mr. Van Cleave—”

“Call me Roger.”

“Okay, Roger, what do you think
about your sister’s theory that the ghost is male?”

“She’s got a fifty-fifty shot at being right.” His blue eyes sharpened. “And you think she’s full of it.”

“I didn’t say that, but I don’t know how she can be so certain.”

“Are you asking me if my sister’s a fraud?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly.”

He looked her over as if trying to decide how much to
tell her. “After Janice died, I had trouble sleeping. Common enough, I was told, for someone who was grieving. Doc Morrison prescribed some sleeping pills…and something for depression, as well, but I didn’t want to go that route, you know?

So one night I had a couple of beers. More than a couple, to tell the truth. I must have passed out on my living room couch because I woke up in the middle
of the night to, um, relieve myself. While I was washing my hands I glanced up in the bathroom mirror…and there was Janice’s reflection staring back at me. Smiling at me, just like she’d done in real life.”

Allie held her breath.

“When I turned around, she was gone. I chocked it up to those beers and tried to get back to sleep. Eventually, I did.” He stared at her hard. “I never had
any problem sleeping after that.”

Roger was quiet for a few long seconds and Allie wondered if it was the end of the story. She sensed it wasn’t, but it also seemed as if he were hesitant to go any further. She laid her hand over his. She thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. “And?” she urged softly.

“And that’s when I started finding the pennies. Janice used to always use that
expression, ‘penny for your thoughts.’” Roger shrugged like he was embarrassed. “I found pennies all over the place. I’d go to the Piggly Wiggly and find a penny in the parking lot next to my car. Or I’d go out and get the morning paper and there would be a penny lying on the sidewalk. I knew intellectually it was just a coincidence. People drop pennies all the time. But, a part of me wants to believe
that it’s Janice. Telling me to hang in there. That I don’t need those sleeping pills because she’s watching out for me.”

Then he stood and went out to the kitchen. He returned with a large glass vase filled to the brim with pennies. He set it on the table in front of her, stuck his hand in his pocket and produced the penny he’d found in the senior center parking lot, and dropped it into
the vase.

Allie stared at the pennies. Like Roger, a part of her wanted to tell him that it was a coincidence. That people found pennies all the time. Especially if they were on the lookout for them. But who was she to tell him that? If the pennies gave him solace, then they were a good thing. And on the chance that they were somehow linked to his deceased wife, then…

She tried to
find a delicate way to word it. “Roger, do you think that maybe…it’s Janice who’s haunting the senior center?”

“Nah. I would know if it were her.”

Allie felt a moment’s disappointment. She shook it off and handed him back her empty cup. “Thanks for the coffee. And for being so honest. I guess I’ll never find out who wrote that email.”

“So that’s it. You’re giving up?”

“You said yourself, the whole town voted for the new rec center. If someone secretly doesn’t want the old senior center to come down it could be anyone. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

“What about a more personal reason? Maybe Concerned Citizen doesn’t care if the building comes down or not. Maybe they just wanted you to be involved in it somehow.”

“Involved is putting
it mildly. I’ve practically staked my career on this story.” Allie told him about the job opening at
Florida!
magazine and about Chris Dougal and his immigration piece and the competition the two of them had been forced into.

“Illegal immigration, huh?”

Allie didn’t have to ask what he thought her chances of landing a job against that were. Not with a ghost story that was proving to
be as flimsy as air. “I thought maybe I’d write an article about my experience at a séance.”

Roger looked even more skeptical.

“Or maybe not.” She thought about what he’d said, about Concerned Citizen having a personal reason to want her in town. But the only person she could think that would want her in town would be…

“You know, maybe there is someone who would want me here
badly enough to write that letter,” Allie said. “My sister-in-law’s always going on about how much she wants me to move back home. But if Mimi wanted me back in town all she’d have to do is ask me. Not write a letter under the guise of some ghost haunting.”

“You sure about that?”

“If I’ve learned anything this week, it’s that I’m not sure about anything.”

“All those years in
the business taught me that when my gut tells me something, it’s usually right. I’ve been watching you. You got those instincts, too.” He winked at her and Allie caught a glimpse of the man he’d been at fifty. No wonder Janice had married him after just three dates. Roger Van Cleave was not only smart, he was charming.

“Thank you.” She reached out and hugged him.

Correction: You hugged
friends, puppy dogs,
and
kindred spirits.

Who would have thought Roger Van Cleave would turn out to be all three?

*~*~*

“S
o, no ghost story?”
Allie hated hearing the disappointment in Emma’s voice but it was way past time she filled her editor in on what was going on.

“No ghost story. No séance,” Allie said. “Sorry, but it just didn’t pan out.”

“What are you going
to do? Ben is expecting your portfolio by the end of next week.”

“I’m not giving up on the job, if that’s what you mean. I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re so good at connecting with your readers. Write from the heart, Allie. It’s what you do best. You’ll find your story. You know I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks, Emma. That means a lot.”

*~*~*

A
t noon, Allie met
up
with Zeke as planned and they headed off to the courthouse in nearby Panama City. Thankfully, the process of getting her license reinstated was relatively simple. Expensive, but not complicated.

“I hope this teaches you to read the fine print from now on,” Zeke said, dropping her back off at the house.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.” He glanced at his watch. “Tell Mimi
I’ll meet her at the football game.”

Yikes. Allie had almost forgotten about tonight’s game. And more importantly, what would be happening
afte
r the game. As in, Claire’s big confession. “You’re taking separate cars?”

“Mimi has to get Claire there an hour early. Plus, she’s manning the refreshment booth so she’s got to set up.”

“Wow. Mimi really has her hands full, huh?”

“Tell me about it. And now she’s come up with this cockamamie scheme to run for mayor.”

Allie felt her hackles bristle. “I think Mimi would make an awesome mayor.”

“Sure she would. When they invent a forty-hour day.”

“When did you become such a Cro-Magnon?” She’d actually wanted to call him a prick, but considering all he’d done for her it wouldn’t have been very gracious. Still.
Her brother was turning into someone she hardly recognized.

“Just being realistic,” Zeke said. He waved goodbye and took off in his cop car.

“Men,” she muttered. She made her way up the driveway back to the house, stopping briefly to pat her little VW bug on the hood. “I’ll never take you for granted again,” she said. Four days without a car had taught her a valuable lesson. She went
in through the garage and into the kitchen to find Mimi up to her elbows in cupcakes.

“God, it smells awesome in here.”

“My Bunco group is manning the refreshment stand tonight. Half the proceeds go to the non-profit organization of our choice.” Mimi’s eyes glittered. “Which, coincidentally, happens to be
me
. I’ve decided to run for mayor and campaigns don’t come cheap. Not even in
little ol’ Whispering Bay.”

Before Mimi could stop her, Allie grabbed a cupcake off the cooling rack. “That’s the best news I’ve had all week.”

“Zeke doesn’t think so, but yeah, I’m pretty excited.”

Allie picked up a spoon and dipped it into a vat of vanilla icing and smeared it on top of her cupcake, then licked off what was left on the spoon. “What does Zeke know?”

“He
hasn’t said so directly, but I think he thinks the city will fall apart if I’m at the helm. Plus, if I do get the job, I’d sort of be his boss.”

Allie nearly choked on the icing. “
Ha!
No wonder he’s going ballistic.”

Mimi picked up a cooled cupcake and began icing it. “What did he say? And tell me the truth.”

Uh-oh. Allie hadn’t meant to rain on Mimi’s parade. Especially not
when her sister-in-law needed her support. “Who cares what my dumbass brother thinks? I think it’s great. The kids will, too. And Zeke will come around. You’ll see.”

“You think so?”

“Of course!” Allie decided to change the subject. “Roger Van Cleave is a pretty cool old guy.”

“You saw his photographs?” Mimi smiled like she’d known a secret that Allie was just now discovering.

“Why didn’t you tell me he worked for
Life
magazine?”