Page 58 of Haunted Ever After

Twenty-Four

Boneyard Books was one of the only shops in town that had always been a bookstore. Just about every other shop on this street had once been something else: bank, hardware store, grocery. Everything a small town needed to keep itself running. But of course these days Boneyard Key ran on tourism, so everything was geared toward tourists, with most of the shops selling airbrushed T-shirts, shot glasses, and other crappy souvenirs—basically anything you could slap a cartoon ghost on. The formerly utilitarian buildings were now painted in eye-catching pastel colors, perched on the edge of wide sidewalks that invited strolling. Come spend your money, the pale blue and pink and yellow paint said. Then go home.

When Cassie paused at the doorway to Boneyard Books to study the facade, Sophie didn’t argue. She seemed to be stalling anyway; she really didn’t like this guy.

“Oh, this is cool.” The outer wall near the door was made to look like carvings of various children’s book characters, all of them reading books. Depicted across the bottom of the facade, along the sidewalk, was a long line of books on a long bookshelf. The titles were all classics: Dickens and Austen and Hemingway and Fitzgerald. Cassie ran her fingers over The Great Gatsby.

“Yeah.” Sophie’s voice was flat. “It’s neat.”

“Oh, come on.” Cassie straightened up to smile at Sophie. “He can’t be that bad.”

Sophie didn’t respond, she just folded her arms and waited. Cassie shook her head and reached for the door. The old-fashioned bell over it announced their presence, and their feet echoed in the empty shop. Cassie didn’t see a single soul among the stacks.

“Huh,” Sophie said. “Doesn’t look like he’s here. We should come back…”

“Can I help you?” The voice came from the front counter, behind an enormous stack of books. Cassie ventured farther in, peering around them to find a man who could only be Theo.

He was a little younger than she was, and a little bit taller. His sandy-colored hair could use a cut and, let’s face it, a style a little more modern than the 1960s. With his tortoiseshell glasses and button-down shirt with an even more buttoned-down vest over it, he looked like a time traveler come to visit modern-day Florida.

Despite his buttoned-down look—not to mention Sophie’s prejudice—his smile was open and friendly.

“Anything I can help you find?” He closed the book he was reading—something leather bound and old—and unfolded himself from the stool behind the counter. Oh. Never mind. He was more than a little bit taller than Cassie.

“Yes, actually,” Cassie said. “Are you Theo?”

“I am.”

“Yes” came a voice behind her. Sophie had finally followed her into the shop, and as she and Theo stared at each other, Cassie could have sworn the temperature dropped about twenty degrees. Not from a ghostly presence this time, but from pure animosity.

“Sophie.” So much for open and friendly, but the nod Theo gave her at least bordered on polite.

Which was more than could be said for Sophie. “Hey.” Well, this was going great.

Cassie forged ahead. “I…well, we…okay, I…was hoping to find some more information on the town’s history. Something that’s maybe…ah, a little more in-depth than Boneyard Key: A Haunted History?”

His eyebrow went up in a perfect arch. “More historically accurate, you mean?” From behind her, Sophie sucked on her teeth. Loudly.

“So you know for a fact that it’s not?”

He waved a hand. “Oh, it’s fine for tourists. The rudimentary history of the town is correct—Cemetery Island, the Great Storm, the founding of the town—that’s all basic stuff and covered pretty well. Have you been on the ghost tour yet?”

“Yes, she’s been on the ghost tour.” Wow. Cassie had never heard Sophie so snippy before.

“I sure have!” Cassie said cheerfully, as though she could talk over Sophie’s ire. “That’s why I’m here, actually. There’s…” What should she say? I’m here to fact-check the ghost tour? She couldn’t say that in front of Sophie. “The ghost in my house would like her story to be told correctly.”

Theo said nothing for a long moment. He opened his mouth, closed it. “Are you…” He cocked his head. “You’re not Cassie Rutherford, are you? You own the Hawkins House now?”

“That’s me,” she said. “Word’s gotten around town, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” he agreed. “Not that it takes long. If you’re wanting local history, real local history, I have a couple things you might like.” He moved out from behind the counter, his walk brisk, and he didn’t look back; he seemed to just assume Cassie could keep up. “Along this wall is our local interest section.” He gestured toward a shelf as he walked, but he didn’t slow down. “University press stuff, local authors, books about the Indigenous history of the town, its role over the years as a colony before Florida became a state. If you’re wanting to delve into the town’s past, that would be a great place to start. It’s mostly accurate.”

“Mostly?” Cassie tried to speed-read the titles on the local history shelf while Theo zoomed past them. Dude was tall and he could walk fast. “You mean as accurate as A Haunted History?”

Theo threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Something like that.”

“You could have told me, you know.” Sophie’s voice was breathless; she was a good foot shorter than Theo and was struggling to keep up with them. “That A Haunted History wasn’t accurate. That the tour wasn’t accurate. Instead of just letting me run around all this time, telling everybody fake stories.”

That stopped him in his tracks, so suddenly that the two women nearly crashed into his back. He turned to them with a puzzled expression. “I thought you knew,” he said to Sophie.

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