Page 36 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“I think I have enough,” I said to Kathleen, clutching a few books, my T-shirt, and a hand-made coffee mug.

“Me, too.” Her stack had increased to five books.

Only Liz left the shop empty-handed. The last to leave, Joe had a bag containing a few things.

“What did you get?” I asked.

“A couple of books,” he said, although the bag looked like it held more than that. “Let’s have a drink by the fireplace,” he suggested.

“I’ll stick to seltzer,” I said. “I’m driving home.”

“Then I’ll have to treat you another time,” he said.

We settled ourselves in four empty chairs with Joe and Kathleen on the wings. Liz offered to get the drinks, and soon returned with wine and my seltzer.

It didn’t matter whether or not I was drinking; the view by the fireplace was amazing. The staggering arrangement of stairways, catwalks, and log beams that soared overhead looked like a childhood fantasy of a jungle gym made of tree trunks.

Joe pulled a book on Old Faithful from his bag and thumbed through it. We leaned close as he gave us a synopsis. “The architect of this building was Robert Reamer—only twenty-nine.”

“That’s amazing,” Kathleen said. “It’s a rare young person who has this kind of vision.”

“Shorter life spans,” I said. “They needed to get crackin’.”

“Well, he certainly did that,” Liz said, her mouth slightly open as she stared up through the kaleidoscope of wood.

“The book said it was designed after a childhood fantasy,” Joe said.

“Ghosts?” I asked. I’d always loved a good ghost story. Being scared to death was even more fun than making sure a company’s books balanced.

“Oh, lots.” Joe grinned. He knew about my fondness for scary stories. When we were younger, he’d collect them and dole them out to me like special treats.

I’d forgotten all about that. I smiled at him, and our gazes slammed into each other’s awareness. All of a sudden, I was short of breath and needed to pull in air.

He looked back down at the book.

“The most popular one is the ghost of the headless bride,” he said. “Seems she married a man her father opposed because her father believed the man was only after her money. Turns out Dad was right. The man left her while she was here.”

“Did he … um … you know …” Liz was wide-eyed.

Joe shrugged. “No one knows. She was found in her bathtub. Well, at least her body was. Her head was found up there in the Crow’s Nest.” He pointed toward a platform several stories over our heads.

The three of us stared upward.

“They say she walks those stairways, her head neatly tucked under her arm,” Joe finished.

Chills ran down my arm.

I let my gaze follow the convoluted stairways down to where I couldn’t see them anymore, then sipped my seltzer. “You’re good,” I told Joe.

“I aim to please.” He took out his phone and scrolled through the photos he’d taken during the day. “Most of these aren’t worth saving, but I should get a few to post on my blog.”

“You have a blog?”

“Just started it. I figured it would be fun to do while I toured around. It’s easier to come up with something to say than to take a good picture. Let me take a look at yours.”

I pulled out my phone and tapped my way to the photos. I scrolled through them, reliving the hike we’d taken around the boardwalks.

“You’re really good,” Joe said.

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