“I looked. It wasn’t there.”
“Did you ask your brother? He doesn’t like leaving purses on the floor—afraid Sadie might get in them. He probably moved it. He has this new paranoia about sugarless gum.”
“Sugarless gum?” Kelly frowned.
“Yeah. The sweetener they put in them now, it can kill a dog. A good friend of his recently lost his dog that way.” Lily almost added, Walt has already talked to Sadie about not eating gum, but Ian is still paranoid, but she caught herself.
“I didn’t ask him. I just assumed I brought it in here with me. Thanks. See you later.” Kelly started to turn from Lily when she froze, her attention riveted on the dry-erase board. The Goodbye had been cleaned off, and in its place someone had written, I am here!
FIVE
Chris Johnson and Heather Donovan were an odd pair. They had some things in common. They could both see ghosts. Both lived on Beach Drive. They both worked for the Glandon Foundation—or more accurately, Chris, whose real name was Chris Glandon, was the man and fortune behind the Glandon Foundation, while Heather was his faithful assistant.
Because they spent so much time together, some people around Frederickport assumed the pair was a couple, which Heather found wildly hilarious. It wasn’t that Heather thought Chris so far out of her league that she could never imagine him being interested in her—it was more she made a practice of never dating someone who was prettier than herself. Perhaps he wasn’t pretty, exactly. But it grew weary seeing how women reacted to Chris’s appearance upon first meeting him. Fortunately, Chris managed to maintain a sense of humility and had kept his ego in check. Heather suspected it had something to do with the influence of his adoptive mother, to whom he had been especially close.
Heather couldn’t imagine what those fawning women would do if they knew billions came with that pretty face. The thought made her shudder—she could see it now, women breaking into his house—if he still had one—and—well, she had read romance novels with similar plotlines.
The new bed had been delivered, and Chris had helped Heather put the sheets on the mattress. She had purchased the sheets for Chris and had washed them at her house before bringing them with her today. When helping Heather make the bed, it had dawned on Chris there was no longer a laundry room in the building. Technically speaking the room was still there, but it was empty, as the washer and dryer had been removed during the renovation.
“You can use my washing machine,” Heather offered, “until you move into your house. But I’m not going to do your laundry. The sheets were a onetime thing.”
Chris laughed and said, “Deal.”
Later that afternoon Chris sent Heather home early, considering all the hours she had been putting in recently. She happily accepted the early release. While she went straight home, she didn’t stay there. Instead, she dropped Bella off at her house and, after feeding the cat, left again to feed herself.
KELLY BARTLEY BORE a striking resemblance to her older brother, Ian. Tall, fit, with an all-American look, she was the softer version of her sibling. She sat with her boyfriend, Joe Morelli, in Lucy’s Diner, planning to have an early dinner after picking him up from work minutes earlier.
Only half listening to Joe while he rambled on about his short day at work, Kelly silently studied his features. She inwardly sighed at his dark good looks—the friendly brown eyes, dark wavy hair and chiseled features. She never understood how Danielle had cast him aside so carelessly. Sure, he had arrested Danielle for murder, but Joe had also thought Kelly might be guilty of murder before they had hooked up, and she never held it against him. After all, that was Joe’s job.
She also didn’t understand the fascination Joe once had for Danielle—a fascination she believed had lingered after she and Joe started dating. Danielle was nice enough, but she had a penchant for attracting trouble. And it wasn’t that Danielle was some raving beauty—oh, she was cute, but she was a little on the overweight side, although recently she had dropped a few pounds. Kelly wondered if Walt Marlow might be the reason for the somewhat slimmer version.
Walt Marlow—Kelly had to admit she did find him attractive. She didn’t always, and originally she thought it odd how he dressed after he started going by Walt instead of Clint. But the look had grown on her, and recently she had been dying to see how Joe might look if he took a little more care with his wardrobe. If he would just be more cooperative…
“So did you have a nice visit with your brother and Lily?” Joe asked, interrupting Kelly’s train of thought.
“It was short. I got tied up at home answering emails, so I got there late, and then you texted me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kelly fidgeted with her water glass, looking from it to Joe, back to the glass. “No, that’s okay. But something strange happened over there.”
“Don’t strange things always happen at your brother’s house?” Joe asked with a laugh.
“True.” Kelly then when on to tell Joe about the dry-erase board. When she was done, she said, “I just don’t see why she would have erased goodbye and then written I am here. And she told me Ian wrote the goodbye, which he obviously didn’t because whoever wrote goodbye wrote I am here. Which is also strange, because the handwriting was different from how Lily normally writes.”
“Why didn’t you ask her?” Joe asked.
“I wasn’t sure what to ask. It was the strangest thing to write. And I don’t even see how she could have done it, considering I was just out of the room for a minute, and she was holding Connor.”
“There is probably a logical explanation. I think you should just ask her,” Joe suggested.
“I suppose,” Kelly murmured. She picked up her water glass to take a sip and then noticed Heather Donovan walking into the diner alone.
“There’s Heather.” Kelly nodded toward the new arrival.
Heather, who walked in their direction, wore her long ink black hair fastened in two low pigtails, and her straight bangs needed a trimming, as they covered her eyebrows. She wore burgundy—almost black—lipstick, which gave her fair complexion an alabaster glow. She hadn’t bothered changing out of her work clothes, still wearing the black dress, its hem falling inches above her ankles, revealing black boots with spiky metal heels. She paused a moment when she reached Joe and Kelly’s table.
“Hi, guys,” Heather greeted as she stood next to them.
“Hi, Heather, you meeting anyone?” Kelly asked cheerfully.
“No. Just got off work and didn’t feel like cooking,” Heather told them.
“I know what you mean,” Kelly agreed.
“Would you like to join us?” Joe asked. He cringed a split second later when he felt Kelly kicking his shin under the table.
If Heather noticed the pained expression on Joe’s face, she reserved comment. Instead she said, “I appreciate the offer, but it’s been a long day, and I just need to decompress and have some alone time.”
Several minutes later, after Heather took a booth on the other side of the diner, out of earshot, but still in clear view, Joe asked, “Why did you kick me?”
“I didn’t want Heather to sit with us,” Kelly said.