Page 36 of The Attic on Queen Street
He kicked off his shoes and pulled his legs up onto the bed. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned against the pillows like I remembered. I recalled how I’d crawl into bed and rest my head on his chest, listening to it rumble as he spoke, and how sometimes his hands would drift down to rest on my shoulders or hips and then...
“Mellie?”
I jerked back, realizing he’d been speaking while I’d been staring at his chest. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”
“I was asking why you were waiting up for me. You could have just texted me or left a note. I’m assuming you would have called if it had been an emergency.”
“I know. But I didn’t think you’d be this late. And then I started listening to Beau’s podcast and lost track of the time.” I sat up straight, agitated all over again. “Have you listened to it?”
“His podcast? No. Should I?”
“I think so. Especially if someone like that is working for your parents and is in close proximity to Nola.”
Jack sat up and put his feet on the floor. “Why? Is he a Satanist?” His eyes widened as a new horror occurred to him. “Or a Communist? Not that there’s much difference, but still not someone we want Nola hanging around with.”
I shook my head. “I wish. It’s much worse.”
“Worse?”
I nodded. “The whole purpose of his podcast is to debunk ghost stories and expose fraudulent psychics.”
He stared at me, blinking once. “I think I’m missing something here.”
“Don’t you see? He read Marc’s book and that’s how he found out about me—and is probably why he sought out Trenholm Antiques for employment. It’s all like some big... plan or something.”
“A big plan for what? Sounds like you’d applaud someone who shinesa light on those who might trivialize others like you who have a real gift.”
“More like a goiter on my neck, but whatever. It just seems like someone with an unspoken agenda shouldn’t be invited into our lives so easily.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “God only knows what Nola might have inadvertently told him about me and Jayne and our mother without her even knowing Beau was taking notes.”
Jack stood. “Now, Mellie, his family owns an antiques store in New Orleans, so it would make sense that he’d look for a job in one here in Charleston. I think it’s just a happy coincidence that my parents happen to be related to you.”
Our eyes met. “Except there’s no such thing as coincidence,” we said in unison. It had been Jack’s mantra before we’d met, and it had become mine, too, in the ensuing years. Mostly because it was always true.
“We need to talk to your parents. Maybe they should fire him or make sure he and Nola aren’t scheduled to work at the same time....”
Jack stepped forward and put a finger to my lips. “Before we jump to conclusions, why don’t we have a talk with Beau, see what he has to say?” He dropped his hand and I resisted the impulse to lick my lips. He continued. “Regardless, I doubt you have anything to worry about. You’ve never advertised your psychic abilities. All the spirits you’ve dealt with since I’ve known you have found you and not the other way around. If he wanted to make a podcast episode about you, I’d suspect it would be a very short one.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Unless he wanted to discuss your methods of organizing your life. That could fill a year’s worth of episodes. Maybe more.”
I stood to face him. “Sure. You can laugh now. But if Beau does want to go that route, I might become the next Marie Kondo and never have to worry about money again for the rest of our lives.”
Jack chuckled. “Well, let’s mention that to Beau when we have our little chat.” He squinted, studying me closely. “You have an eyelash getting ready to drop into your eye. Hang on a sec—don’t move.”
He stepped closer and I could feel his warm breath on my face,heating my entire body. “Look up.” One hand held the back of my head while he gently removed the offending eyelash.
“Got it,” he said, but he didn’t step back, nor did he remove the hand that was cupping my head. “I think you’re good to go.”
I stayed where I was, blinking several times in the hope that another eyelash would shake loose. “Are you sure?” I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of being so near him again. I leaned closer.
“Mellie?”
My eyes jerked open. “Yes?”
“Is there anything else you needed to tell me? It’s late.”
“Oh, right.” I stepped back. “I wanted to let you know that I made an appointment to see Yvonne Craig tomorrow morning at ten. In case you wanted to come, too.” I tried not to sound too hopeful. “I asked her to find out what she could about the property beside the cistern. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, but we may have found a grave near the cistern.”
Jack didn’t blink. “Because this wouldn’t be our house if there wasn’t at least one skeleton buried somewhere. I can’t even pretend to be surprised.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I do believe that my calendar is completely empty, so I’m available.” He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand because he’d been raised by Amelia Trenholm. “Anything else?”
“Last thing—promise. I received an odd text yesterday. From an 843 area code, so it’s local—but not a number I recognized.”
