Darcy felt a chill crawl up her spine, but she kept it from showing on her face. The Gershwin Mansion was a huge residence on the edge of Misty Hollow, left vacant for several decades except for when people like Harlan Harrington rented it out. Those stays were always short term. In fact, some renters never lasted more than a single night. Rumors persisted of whispery voices, and shadows moving on their own, and furniture that would rearrange itself when no one was there. Lights going on and off. A feeling of being watched. A history of death, violence, and mystery.
It was a regular ‘House on Haunted Hill,’ but this was no movie. This one was real. Darcy had never felt the need to visit the mansion because she already had more than enough ghosts of her own to deal with. There was no reason to invite more into her life. Not without a good reason.
Well, now she had one. Dinner with a semi-famous author!
“I accept,” she told him, and watched his smile get wider. “What time should we be over?”
“Oh, jolly good! Shall we say at half six? That will give us time to chat about this and that, and I can give you a tour of the place before we sit to dinner.”
“That sounds…nice…” Her hesitation wasn’t from translating ‘half six’ into six-thirty. She was looking for a polite way to say she might not enjoy a tour of a haunted house as much as most people would. She was still thinking about it when a loud thump and a blur of gray fur saved her the trouble.
Tiptoe the cat landed herself on one of the reading tables, sitting on the edge and staring at them with her pearlescent green eyes, while her tail curled innocently around her feet. She wasn’t all gray, of course. It had just looked that way with her sudden appearance, but she had three white paws and one black ear tip, a beautiful mix of colors passed down to her by her parents. Both of them were passed away now, and Darcy still missed them terribly. After all, losing a beloved pet was every bit as hard as losing any other member of the family.
“For Pete’s sake,” Darcy scolded Tiptoe lightly. She crossed her arms and gave the cat a hard stare, but she couldn’t stop from grinning as she did it. “I see you’re every bit your daddy’s child. He used to sneak into my store every chance he got, too.”
The cat blinked slowly in reply, putting a world of emotion into the simple gesture. Anyone who didn’t think cats could talk had just never learned to listen. Tiptoe was telling her she was not her daddy, thank you very much, and beaming under the compliment at the same time.
Darcy didn’t know how she had managed to get inside today and was resigned to the fact that she probably never would. There were no pet doors. No open windows. No outside vent shafts that Tiptoe could have crawled through like Bruce Willis in that Christmas movie. There was no way for a cat to get in on her own. Yet here Tiptoe sat, staring and waiting for something. She had no idea what, but when her cat got like this there was always something to it.
Harlan cleared his throat. “Now how on Earth did this little puss find her way in?”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Darcy admitted. “She does this a lot, though. There’s not any place on Earth that Tiptoe can’t get in.”
“She must know of a secret passage. How exciting!”
Darcy laughed at the very thought of it. “Trust me, there’s no secret passages in my bookstore. It’s been in the family for two generations now and I’m pretty sure I’ve found all of its secrets.” At least, she hoped so.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Harlan chuckled. “Seems to me that cats can be just as sneaky as your basic murder mystery writer.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’ve never tried to write a book. Not a work of fiction, anyway.”
“You have such fascinating stories, though! That’s why I’ve been so grateful for your help with my writing. You’ve lived a fascinating life. It’s a life worthy of being made into a book. Maybe even an entire series!”
Darcy blushed at the barrage of compliments. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m just a woman trying to live her life, and trying to juggle way too much at once.”
“Hmm. I think we both know you’re more than that. You’re a business owner, for instance.” A wave of his hand took in the entire bookstore.
“Sure. I like running my little store.”
“A mother to two wonderful kids. A wife to an amazing man.”
That made her smile. “Those are the best parts of my life.”
“And, you’re also the mayor of this grand town.”
Her smile slipped. “For now.”
“Yes, well.” He tugged at his bow tie again, same as he had a dozen times, as if it was too tight for him. “We all must choose who we are, I suppose. So. Dinner tomorrow. We’re all set. I promise you, it will be a meal you shan’t soon forget!”
He gave his bowtie one last tug and went on his way, whistling a tune as he went. That left Darcy alone with Tiptoe. The cat stared up at her, flicking the tip of her tail, acting like she didn’t have a clue why Darcy was upset.
“Well? I suppose you’ve got a good reason for being here?” She didn’t expect an answer, although it would have been nice to have one.
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