“Are you free for lunch?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get takeout,” Beth said. “You can show me the article when I’m there, and we’ll talk.”
“Okay, but text me when you get here; the door buzzer is broken,” she said to no one because her favorite aunt had ended the call mid-sentence.
An hour later, Meredith stood on the stoop in front of her eighties-era apartment building and watched the matriarch of the fae-gifted in their family—Elizabeth MacCarthy Brandt—attempt to parallel park her 1960 Cadillac Eldorado. It took her three tries before she successfully wedged the gas-guzzling monstrosity between the other two cars parked in front of the building.
Meredith waited as her aunt made her way up the sidewalk. Petite, an up-scale-salon blonde with very few wrinkles, Beth could easily pass for much younger than her sixty years. Meredith prayed she’d inherited the particular genes responsible for her aunt’s youthful looks. Smiling, she shook her head.
Her aunt shifted the paper bag holding their lunches and arched a brow. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can forget it. I’m not selling the Cadillac. Thanks to your uncle, it runs perfectly, and that car holds many fond memories.” She drew in a breath before continuing the familiar refrain.
“Gordon bought me that Cadillac when your cousin Dylan was born. We were just a couple of kids back then, and we didn’t have much.” Her expression turned nostalgic as it always did when she spoke about the past. “He said the Eldorado reminded him of me—a classic beauty.”
“I know, but how many miles per gallon does it get? Eight? Think of the carbon footprint.” Meredith opened the front door for her aunt.
“I’ve heard it all a thousand times. I only drive the Eldorado when it’s nice out. The rest of the time I drive the gas-sipper. Besides, we’re looking to buy one of those totally electric cars. That’ll balance things out nicely.”
Meredith led her aunt down the hall to her first-floor apartment and unlocked the door. She gestured for Beth to precede her. “What are we having for lunch?”
“I brought smoked turkey sandwiches on caraway rye with all the fixings. I also have chips, pickles, and coleslaw. I stopped at Hammond’s Deli down the street.” She set her purse and the bag on the counter in the kitchenette and started unpacking the food. “I also bought sweet tea and two chocolate chip cookies.”
“Sounds yummy. Thanks for lunch. I’ve been grading essay tests all morning, and I probably would’ve had canned soup if not for you.”
After they were settled at her table with their meal before them, Meredith handed her aunt the article she’d printed about the U.S. Bureau of Land Management’s search for volunteer residents.
Her aunt put on her cheaters and began to read, making noises now and then. She swallowed her food and pointed to the URL at the bottom of the page. “The deadline to apply is tomorrow. I heard through the grapevine the summer class you had planned to teach fell through, so there’s no reason for you not to fill out the online application and hit send.”
“I can’t, Aunt Beth. I need to find a summer job that pays.”
“Borrow money if you have to. I don’t know why, but I’m certain you are meant to help those poor souls.” Her aunt waved a potato chip in the air. “As you know, I’m never wrong about these things, sweetie. Think of the good you could do.”
Being in debt gave her the hives, so borrowing money or living on a credit card was out of the question. “I’m not suggesting you’re wrong. I’m simply refusing to get sucked into this. I don’t want to spend my summer volunteering just so I can help a bunch of recalcitrant spirits cross over.” Selfish? Maybe, but why should she put her plans on the back burner for dead people? “You’re more experienced at ghost whispering than I am. Maybe you should apply.”
Her aunt leveled a pointed look her way. “Tell me what happened when you saw the article for the first time. Did it pop out at you? Did it appear as if it had been typed in larger, bolder font while everything around it blurred? Did you get the tingles all over or an odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation?”
Meredith clamped her mouth shut.
“I am an empath, Meredith.” Her aunt snorted. “You don’t have to utter a word for me to know the answer.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have a choice,” she argued, digging in her heels.
“Of course you have a choice. However, when the spirit world summons you for help, ignoring the call can be disastrous. Turning your back on what you are meant to do will haunt you forever, and like the spirits whose plight you disregard, you will have no peace.”
“You can’t possibly believe I’m the only medium who can help the Garretsville ghosts. There are plenty of ghost whisperers who can step in and persuade them to pass on.”
“Not so.” Beth shook her head. “Many might try, but they’re certain to fail. Why do you think that old town is still haunted? Do you seriously believe no one in the past one hundred and seventy years has tried to send them on their way? Only the one called upon by the spirits themselves will succeed.”
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have any special abilities,” Meredith grumbled.
“All of us who are gifted have shared that sentiment a time or two. Especially when we’re being severely inconvenienced by the needs of the no-longer-living.”
For the next several minutes, she and her aunt ate in silence, and the article sitting on the table drew Meredith’s gaze over and over. She could no longer deny what the strange sensations she’d experienced meant. She’d been summoned.
“Meredith, can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t believe you’re meant to do this?”
“No, I can’t, so I’ll leave it up to fate. I’ll fill out the application and send it
