Madelyn started snapping pictures of Gracie, pausing every few shots to view the images. “Lovely,” she said. “Really lovely, except…”
Something in her tone made me look up. She frowned over her camera, turning to look at the digital screen in different light. “Strange,” she muttered.
“What is it?”
“If it was a print picture, I’d say it was a smudge.” She frowned. “But, of course, it’s not a print picture. It almost looks like…” She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, it can’t be.” Her gaze met mine and I read the question on her face.
Madelyn and her husband were both part of the North Texas Paranormal Society. She’d told me the magic that ran in my family was well known in the group, but our identities weren’t known. I wanted to keep it that way.
Madelyn’s freelance job as crime photographer for Bliss had led her right into my front yard… literally. She knew magic like ours existed, so she was looking for it. From there, the deductions had been easy for her. She’d figured out our story, but I’d sworn her to secrecy. What she still didn’t know, however, was the ever-after part of the Cassidy legacy. Magic was one thing. Ghosts were quite another. I wasn’t sure if she was ready for that much truth from me.
Heck, I still wasn’t sure
She held out the camera for me to see. In each picture, Gracie stood to the right of the armoire, her body angled to the side, a Mona Lisa smile on her otherwise expressionless face. Above her right shoulder was a translucent shape, like a… I swallowed. Like a ghost standing just behind her.
Hard to keep the ever-after on the down low if my great-grandmother was going to announce herself so blatantly. And to a self-proclaimed paranormal junkie, no less.
As if on cue—Loretta Mae had impeccable timing—the pipes upstairs moaned. Madelyn looked up, her dark eyebrows pulled together in thought; then they popped up toward her hairline. “Bloody hell,” she said, darting a glance at me.
“Damn pipes,” Will said. “I have a buddy who’s a plumber. I’m gonna get him out here.”
“They’re always doing that,” Gracie said.
I met Madelyn’s eyes, a silent understanding passing between us.
She threw herself back into photography mode. She posed Gracie, turning her this way and that, snapping photo after photo. “Lift your chin. Right. Elbow bent. Yes, just like that.”
I knew that she was trying to capture more supernatural images, but she was doing a good job of making Gracie feel absolutely relaxed and beautiful.
A sudden movement behind me reminded me that Anna and Duane Hughes were still here. “I’ll come back another time,” Anna said, gliding toward the door, which Duane held open for her. “You’ve obviously got a lot on your mind.”
I hadn’t thought she’d remember to come by the shop, let alone actually commission a dress. Letting her walk out was not in the best interest of my business, but it was in the best interest of Will and Gracie. They came first, I decided. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hughes—”
She smiled as she reached for the doorknob. “Anna. And don’t worry about it. You must be terribly busy with all the pageant preparations.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll do some sketches for you for your sister’s wedding. Come back after the pageant and I’ll show you what I come up with. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” A gust of wind blowing in from outside made the bells on the door handle bounce.
“Looks like that storm’s back,” Will said, coming up beside me and peering out the door.
The dark clouds had returned, and the wind kicked up another notch, pushing Anna Hughes back into the shop. She braced herself, her purse slung over her shoulder, one hand gripping the doorjamb. When the moment passed, she stepped outside.
Will peered up as a sliver of jagged light sliced through the darkening sky, a crack of thunder echoing after it. “Drive safely,” Will called to her.
She waved, and was gone.
One less thing to worry about. I shut the door against the wind, only to turn and see a stream of translucent white streak across the ceiling. Meemaw. I shot a glance at Will, then Gracie and Madelyn, but none of them had noticed anything.
I had begun to identify what Meemaw’s different haunting methods meant beneath the surface, kind of like how new mothers could recognize the different cries of their newborn babies. When Meemaw tapped into the pipes, it was a general announcement to me that she was present. When warm air encircled me, it was her way of giving me a hug or comforting me, like a toasty blanket on a cold night. If she was agitated or was trying to catch my attention, she blew like a violent gust of wind through the room. She still didn’t seem to have mastered the ability to materialize at will, but when she really wanted to communicate something in particular, she used books, water, or any other actual manipulation of an object to get her message across.
“I hear you,” I said under my breath as Madelyn told Gracie, “Last one.”
A visible shiver went through Gracie. Like someone had scraped their fingernails down a chalkboard. She suddenly backed up, throwing up her hands like she was trying to block something.
“Gracie?” Will was by her side in a flash.
The color had drained from her cheeks and she shivered. “It’s c-cold.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, but he lay the back of his hand on her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. It’s late. I’m sure you’re just tired, and dressed like that, with your hair all done up, your imagination’s taking over is all.”
Madelyn and I looked at each other, another silent message floating between us. I hadn’t told her what I’d learned, but I could tell she didn’t need all the details to believe that something magical was floating around the old farmhouse—literally.
“Your dad’s probably right,” I said. “Honey, why don’t you get out of that dress and get some sleep. The rehearsal starts first thing in the morning, then the pageant. It’s gonna be a long day.”
I unbuttoned her dress for her, my fingers moving slowly. The history of the dress worked its way through me, drifting into my mind, mixing with the current image of Gracie in the gown, her hair done up, the highlights in her hair shimmering almost effervescently.
One thing became crystal clear. The secrets Nana and her friends had worked to keep under wraps for so long were bursting forth at the seams.
Chapter 28
It was only ten o’clock, too early to go to bed, but I was exhausted. I slipped into my blue-and-white-striped cotton pajama pants and a navy cami, brushed my teeth and the tangles out of my hair, and climbed into bed, but apparently sleep was the last thing my body actually wanted to do.
I was antsy. My toes tingled, my arms itched, and a million thoughts raced through my mind. They were like fireflies, zipping between Gracie and Libby, and all the details of the pageant that I still had to take care of. I’d tried to get an update on Mrs. James, but I hadn’t heard a thing from her.
Finally, after thirty minutes of tossing and turning, I put my glasses back on and got out of bed. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well be productive.
I spent two hours finishing Mrs. James’s dress. I’d already pieced the sections together. By the time I got to the zipper, the last thing I had to finish, exhaustion had made me loopy. The room grew soft around the edges, like a photographer had blurred the lines. If you discounted the scattered thread, fabric scraps, and pieces of pattern paper, my workroom had a dreamy quality to it.
Sleepiness was finally settling in, but it hadn’t taken hold yet. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Three a.m. At this rate, I was going to be holding my eyelids open with toothpicks at the dress rehearsal. I finished the zipper and took Mrs. James’s dress into the dining room, slipping it onto a dress form I’d moved into the far corner, then headed to the front room to lie down on the settee. I might as well not have bothered. Soon I was tossing and turning. Meemaw’s decision to cover it in velvet was great on a blustery cold day, but not when it was still close to ninety degrees and the humidity had crept up to ninety percent.
