Page 59 of Haunted Ever After

“How was I going to know?” She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him, like a mouse staring down a giraffe. “I was going off of the book, which I was told was a good source!”

“I certainly didn’t tell you that,” he retorted. “And your tour is fine. I never said it wasn’t—”

“No, except when you scoffed your way through it!”

Theo continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “And it’s fine for tourists. I figured you were selling them on a fun time, getting them to buy the book at the end. I didn’t think you cared.”

“Of course I care.” Her voice was small, hurt. A staring contest ensued between the two of them, and Theo was the one to blink first, a sheepish expression coming over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said gently. “And I’m sorry that I scoffed at your tour. It’s just that…That damn book’s been a thorn in my side for years. Historical inaccuracy bothers me like nothing else.”

“Me too,” said Sophie. “Believe it or not.”

Theo considered that, then nodded decisively. “I believe it. Come on.” He led them to the back of the shop, to a curtained-off doorway leading to what looked like a storeroom. A small sign to the right of the doorway read BONEYARD KEY CULTURAL CENTER AND MUSEUM. It seemed like a lot of pressure for one storeroom to handle.

Theo pushed the deep burgundy curtain to the side and ushered them inside. “I usually ask for donations, a couple dollars, something like that. But you’re both residents, so…”

“Thanks,” Cassie murmured as she stepped through the curtain. The place looked…well, it looked like a museum that was set up in a storeroom. It was larger than she’d expected; each of the four walls had groupings of what could generously be called museum displays: framed photographs of varying ages and degrees of disintegration. A glass cabinet in the center of the room held antique fishing implements, along with pieces of brick that must be important for some reason, while a shadowy corner in the back had two tall filing cabinets with a card table set up next to them.

While Theo headed directly for the filing cabinets, Cassie found herself wandering to the far wall, which focused on the early history of the town and its settlement. Her attention was caught by black-and-white photos of a cemetery. Some of the tombstones had toppled over or were broken in half, and most of them were overgrown with vegetation. Cemetery Island, 1954, read the small placard next to the photos.

“Oh, wow.” Her fingertips hovered over one of the photos, tracing the curve of a tombstone. She could just barely make out the name on it. Royer. A shiver prickled the back of her neck. That was Nick’s family, right there in front of her in literal black and white. His attachment to Boneyard Key made a lot more sense to her now. His link to this town wasn’t just sentimental. It was tangible. His roots were right there, where he could visit them. She wouldn’t want to move away either if she had something like that.

“This cemetery really still exists?” She aimed the question at Sophie, Theo, anyone who cared to answer.

“Yep,” Sophie answered from right behind her, while Theo’s assent came from the other side of the room. Cassie glanced over her shoulder to see Theo’s back to them, a drawer to a file cabinet open as he rummaged through it. “You have to take a kayak out there,” he said, “and make sure you hose yourself down with bug repellent first. The mosquitoes are merciless.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “But these photos are from the fifties. And the tombstones look in pretty rough shape back then. You sure they’re still there now?”

“They absolutely are.” He sounded certain, and a little pissed off—who was Cassie to doubt him? “The historical preservation committee goes out twice a year to clean up the graves.” He had come up behind her while she was studying the black-and-white photos and stood next to her now, two file folders under his arm. He tapped a fingernail against the glass of a framed picture she hadn’t noticed, off to the right and in color. “That’s from the early 2000s.” The broken tombstones were still broken, but one of the toppled-over ones had been set to rights. The sun streamed down on the little cemetery through the Spanish moss that hung from the live oak trees around it. Where the black-and-white photos looked more…well, haunted, the color photo showed the cemetery in a serene setting.

“Historical preservation committee?” Cassie asked. “Is it really a whole committee, or is it just you?”

Theo pretended to look offended. “Sometimes I can rope a couple people into helping me.” He gave her an assessing look. “How good are you at kayaking?”

His smile said that he was kidding, but now that he mentioned it, Cassie could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon. “I could be taught.” She indicated the folders under his arm. “What are those?”

Theo looked down at them, as though just remembering they were there. “Ah. Yes. This one is for you—” He handed one folder, so thick it was practically overflowing, to Sophie. “This is all documentation that focuses on Beachside Drive and the downtown area. If you really wanted to start looking for ways to improve your tour…”

Sophie took the folder with a firm nod. “This is great. Thanks.” She started to open it but it was so full that documents began to spill out. She slammed it closed again with a sheepish look.

“There’s a table right over there.” Theo indicated a small table near the entrance, under a huge framed painting of a blond woman. Then he turned to Cassie, handing her the other, much thinner folder. “Hawkins House,” he said. She followed him to the card table by the filing cabinets, setting the folder down. While there wasn’t a lot of documentation, the folder was filled with photographs taken of the house over the years. Cassie spread them out gently, taking her time to study each one.

The first black-and-white photo she picked up was badly faded with age. But Cassie recognized the lines of the house, the rooftop and the gingerbread trim around the balcony. Even the picket fence looked the same, and right behind it…Cassie knew the general shape of cabbage roses by now. Mrs. Hawkins’s roses.

“I don’t know if the photos themselves are helpful at all…” Theo’s voice sounded apologetic. “While I have plenty on the Hawkins House, I don’t have all that much on Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins themselves.” He shook his head. “They’re not in the Founding Fifteen. That’s really what my focus is here.”

“Right.” Cassie let her gaze wander over the room, at the photos and displays, as though an answer might jump out at her. “But where did Sarah come from? She’s not in the Founding Fifteen, so she must have moved here, right? But where were her people? Were there other Blankenships in town?”

“Blankenships?” Theo blinked. “Who are the Blankenships?”

“Sarah Hawkins. Her maiden name was Blankenship.” Had she really stumped the history guy?

He looked thoughtful. “Are you sure that’s right? I don’t think I’ve seen that name anywhere. In any of my research.” He gave a pointed look toward the filing cabinets. “And I’ve done a lot of research.”

“I can see that.” But Cassie had her own research, and she dug in her bag for it now. She handed Theo the marriage license she’d printed out, and he studied it thoughtfully.

“Obviously you’re right,” he said, handing her back the paper. “But I don’t know of any other Blankenships. None are buried at Cemetery Island, and none appear in Boneyard Key. So where did Sarah come from?”

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