The Perfect Hope

“I think Lizzy makes certain allowances,” Hope continued. “I mentioned broadening those allowances to her.”

“You talked to her again?” Owen asked.

“Not exactly. I talk to her now and then. She doesn’t talk back. Except for Friday night.”

“It’s heartbreaking,” Clare murmured. “What she said about fading.”

“And yet she rarely seems sad. She’s got hope.” Beckett smiled at Hope. “She had it even before you. I can’t figure why she mentioned Ryder. He had less to do with her than me and Owen.”

“How do you know?” Ryder demanded.

“I don’t remember you saying much about her until she played games with you and Hope in The Penthouse.”

“We all spent plenty of time in that place, together, separately. I got along with her. We gave each other space.”

“Did you ever see her?” Owen asked him.

“You don’t have to see her to know she’s there. She didn’t like Shawn—you know the carpenter we hired on right after we got started?”

“Nobody liked Shawn after we found out he was skimming materials for side jobs,” Owen pointed out.

“And hitting on Denny’s wife. What kind of idiot makes a play for the wife of a town cop, especially when the town cop’s a friend of his bosses—and the woman’s not interested?”

“Before we didn’t like him, and fired him—Lizzy didn’t like him. She used to hide his tools, his lunch bucket, his gloves, like that. At first I thought he was just being careless, then I found some of his things down in the old basement, where he hadn’t been. All stacked up neat and tidy—and smelling like honeysuckle.”

“A better judge of character than we were in that case,” Owen decided.

“Sounds like. She’d spook some of the crew now and then, but sort of playful. And …”

“Uh-oh.” Beckett pointed at him. “You’ve been holding back.”

“It didn’t seem relevant. But since we’re getting in deeper.” Ryder shrugged. “That time with Hope wasn’t the first time she’d stuck me in The Penthouse. Right after Hope showed up, and Mom hired her. On the spot.”

“Proving I’m a good judge of character.”

“Well, okay, yeah. Anyway, maybe I was a little irritated about hiring somebody so fast, without talking it over.”

“You were rude,” his mother reminded him. “Rude and pigheaded.”

“It’s not pigheaded to express an opinion. Rude, okay. I apologized,” he pointed out. “Maybe I was still a little steamed. I went back up to do a little more work. The door slammed shut behind me, and wouldn’t open. We didn’t have the lock sets on yet, but that damn door wouldn’t open.”

“She gave you the smackdown,” Avery said.

“Who’s telling the story? I could smell her in there, and that just pissed me off more. Windows won’t budge, door won’t budge. She fucking grounded me.” Then he laughed, quick and easy. “You’ve gotta respect that. Then she wrote your name on the window glass, inside a little heart.”

Hope blinked in surprise. “My name?”

“Inside the heart. I got the picture. She liked you, she wanted you around, and I’d better fall in line. Pissed me off more, but it’s hard to argue with a ghost.”

“Which you resolved by being snotty to me. Tell the innkeeper this, tell the innkeeper that.”

Ryder shrugged again. “She was okay with it.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe you should try talking to her, Ryder,” Clare suggested. “Since she mentioned you specifically. And since you and Hope are … friendlier.”

“You don’t have to use code,” Justine told her. “But you’ve got a point.”

“I don’t have that much to say to live people.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Hope insisted. “She has a connection to you, to the three of you,” she said to the brothers. “Avery and I talked about this. We think because you brought her place—her home—back to life, there’s a connection. Because you and your mother cared enough to bring it back, make it beautiful, give it warmth again, you helped her. She doesn’t know how to be anywhere else, she said. So it matters that where she has to be is loved and cared for. Because it is, she’s more there. All of you had a part in that. But you, Ryder, had the most hands-on in the actual work. Maybe she’ll tell you what she can’t seem to tell the rest of us.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll ask the dead girl.”

“With respect,” his mother warned.

“Meanwhile,” Hope continued, “I heard back from my cousin and from the school. My cousin promises to send me what she can. She doesn’t buy the ghost angle for a minute. Her response was very amused and really condescending, but she’s enthusiastic about her research, and pleased someone else in the family shows an interest. Even if it’s about the wrong sister. And the librarian’s working through the red tape, but feels due to the family connection, and the family’s long-term support of the school, she can cut through it. There are letters. She hopes to scan me copies within the next few weeks.”

“Progress.” Owen sat back. “Better than I’m doing.”

“If they both come through and I end up with piles of documents, I’m dumping half on you.”

“Willing and ready.”

Angry young voices punched through the open deck door.

“It couldn’t last forever,” Clare said and started to rise to break up the fight.

“I’ve got it.” Beckett nudged her down again.

“Go with it,” Justine told her. “Pregnancy pampering doesn’t last forever either. Plus I’ve got ice cream to bribe them with. Any other takers?”

Hands shot up around the table.

“I appreciate it,” Hope said, “but I really need to get back. Carolee’s held the fort long enough. Thanks for dinner, for everything. It was just great.”

“We’ll do it again,” Justine promised. “And I’d like to see those letters when you get copies.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do. ’Night.”

Ryder tapped a finger on his knee for about twenty seconds, then pushed up from the table. “Be right back.”

As he walked to the door Owen made exaggerated kissing noises. Ryder just shot up his middle finger and kept going.

“My boys.” Justine sighed. “So damn classy.”

He caught her before she got to her car. “Wait a minute.”

She turned, hair swinging, settling.

“What time are you clear on Tuesday?”

“Oh. I should be done by five. Maybe four thirty.”

“That works, if I can use one of the showers.”

“It’s your inn.”

“It’s not about whose inn it is.”

“Then yes, you can use one of the showers. Any one you like.”

“Okay.”

When he said nothing else, simply stood, bringing that surge up with the steady look, she angled her head. “Well? Are you going to kiss me good-bye?”

“Now that you mention it …”

He left her breathless and needy, light-headed and trembly. The perfect end, she thought, to an unexpected summer evening.

“That oughta hold ya.”

She laughed, shook her head as she slid into her car. “Let’s hope it holds you. Good night.”

“Yeah.” He watched her back out, make the turn. She flipped out a wave as she drove down his mother’s lane. He continued to stand where he was as D.A. wandered over to sit at his feet, to stare out at nothing as Ryder