Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Slate finished putting the crackers on the cheese board and set it next to the small plates.
He was glad Dash’s grandparents were coming.
With his decades of work at the ERP, Morten Reeves knew more about ghosts than anyone.
Something told Slate they might need all that knowledge before the holiday was over.
The door from the basement opened, and Dash stepped into the kitchen with soda and water. “Grandma texted. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Dash put the drinks in the refrigerator and then came over to kiss Slate’s cheek. “That looks nice.” He tried to take a slice of cheese, but Slate smacked his hand lightly.
“You can wait until they get here,” Slate said. “Do you need me to do anything to get the guest room ready?”
“Nope.” He grabbed the open box of crackers and took a few. “I changed the sheets, put out two sets of towels, dusted and vacuumed, and made sure the bathroom was clean and had enough toilet paper.”
The last item was Dash being Dash. “Thank God for that. We don’t want your grandparents running around asking if we can spare a square.”
Dash rolled his eyes and opened the cabinet with wine glasses. “I got a merlot for Grandma and a chardonnay for Grandpa. Did you want me to open anything else for you?”
He didn’t like either vintage, so he’d stick to beer. “No. Two bottles will be more than enough.”
They finished setting up, and Dash poured them some water. He took a drink and leaned against the counter, his face already wearing an expression that was equal parts affection and mild anxiety.
“You need to relax.” Slate kissed Dash’s cheek. “They’ve visited before, and they won’t inspect the house.”
“It’s not that.” Dash ran a hand through his already messy hair.
“I should be better at seeing them and Grandpa Herbert. Not to sound fatalistic, but after losing Grandma Joyce so suddenly, I promised myself I wouldn’t let too much time pass between visits.
I’m doing a terrible job keeping that promise.
My grandparents had to invite themselves over for the weekend.
I kinda suck at this whole grandson thing. ”
Slate set his glass down and hugged Dash.
He knew how important Dash’s grandparents had been after the clusterfuck his parents made of his childhood.
“Cut yourself some slack. You call Grandpa H almost every week. You’ve driven to see him three times this year, and he stayed with us last month to go apple picking.
We spend major holidays with Morten and Millicent, and I hear the joy in your voice every time you speak to them. You’re a good grandson, Dash.”
The knock on the front door cut off Dash’s response. “That wasn’t ten minutes,” Dash said, pushing off the counter.
They walked to the door together, but Dash reached it first. He was already smiling when he pulled it open. “Grandpa, Grandma, I—”
He stopped completely, his hand still on the doorknob, his entire body going still in a way Slate had never seen.
Morten stood on the porch, tall and solid in a wool coat despite the mild October weather.
Millicent was beside him, her white hair caught up in a neat bun.
And between them, half-hidden until she stepped forward, was a woman Slate had only seen in photos and video chats.
Dark hair, Dash’s jawline, blue eyes that held the same intelligence but softened by something warmer. She wore a leather jacket over a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots that looked like they’d seen actual use. Her grin was immediate and delighted.
“Surprise, Doc.”
Dash made a sound Slate couldn’t quite identify—something between a laugh and a gasp. Then he practically launched himself at his sister. In two strides, he’d reached her and hugged her off her feet. “Mermaid! When did you get home? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because seeing this smile is so much better.” She squeezed him back, and Slate wished he could capture their joy. “Look at you. You’re taller than the last time I saw you.”
“I haven’t grown since I was sixteen.”
“Are you sure? You look different.” She pulled back enough to look at him properly and tapped a finger to her chin. After a second, she gave a fake look of shock. “I know—you look happy! Must be the small-town air.”
Dash was grinning so hard his face had to hurt. Slate had seen him smile before—had made him smile—but this was different. This was unguarded joy, the kind that didn’t know how to hide itself.
The grandparents stood behind Dash and Meredith, beaming like they’d won the lottery.
Which, under the circumstances, they had.
Slate trotted down the stairs to greet them.
“Thank you for coming—and for this.” He swept his hand behind him.
“I imagine that was what he was like before things went bad.”
“Not really,” Millicent said with a knowing smile. “They fought like siblings when they were kids. Then it was them against the world. This is what they’ve become now that they’re both free of the anger.”
“I like this version.” Morten glanced over Slate’s shoulder. “And I’d say they do too.”
Dash and Meredith were still standing in the doorway, his arm around her shoulders, her hand gripping his wrist like she needed to confirm he was real. They were talking over each other and wore thousand-watt smiles that could power the manor for a year.
“—you said you’d be back in November for—”
“—changed my plans. I wanted to see the haunted house and—”
“—could have told me—”
“—more fun this way, Doc.”
“Ugh.” Dash groaned. “You promised not to use that anymore.”
“I promised no such thing.” Meredith locked her gaze on Slate. “My little brother has good taste. You’re cuter in person, Slate.”
“I hope not,” Slate said, trying not to smile at Dash’s red cheeks. “I paid a fortune for that webcam to capture my good side.”
“How about we go inside and not leave Grandma and Grandpa standing outside?” Dash said.
“Look at you being all grown up.” Her smirk was pure evil. “Should I call you Morten now too?”
“I hate you,” he said, but never let go of her arm.
“Didn’t Gran teach you not to lie? You know you love me.” She turned with a grin Slate already knew meant trouble was coming. “Did you know he talks about you constantly? It’s disgusting. Grandma’s exact words were ‘nauseating in the best way.’”
“Grandma said no such thing,” Millicent said in a voice that dulled Meredith’s vibe a little. “I know I taught you not to tell lies.”
“She was thinking it,” Meredith whispered to Slate.
Dash finally disengaged from his sister to greet his grandparents. His hugs weren’t quite as fierce as the one he gave his sister, but they conveyed the same feelings. “You two are sneaky. Just ‘wanted to come for a visit.’ Remind me to never trust that again.”
Despite his words, he didn’t sound upset.
“Worth it to see your reaction,” Morten said. “How are you, boy?”
“Amazing.” He briefly hugged them again. “Thank you.”
An arm snaked around Slate’s waist as he watched Dash and his grandparents.
Meredith pulled him closer. “Thank you, Slate.” She swallowed hard.
“I love him so much. It hurt to see him wall off the person he was before our shitty parents decided being shitty to each other wasn’t enough.
He took most of the nastiness trying to shield me.
Hearing the old Dash when I’d called… I had to come meet you. ”
She turned the side hug into a full one, which Slate returned.
“And if you tell him I didn’t come just to see him,” she whispered in his ear, “I’ll deny everything.”
Slate laughed to hold back the tears. “I didn’t hear anything.”
The moment they were inside, Dash hooked his sister’s arm and whisked her off on a tour of the house. Their voices faded up the steps, Meredith asking questions and Dash answering with the kind of enthusiasm he usually reserved for solving particularly elegant code problems.
Slate stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them go. Something in his chest felt too full, like joy had taken up more space than he’d budgeted for.
“They’ve always been like that,” Morten said from behind him. “Even when they fought like cats and dogs, five minutes later, they’d be laughing. The divorce years were hard on them both. Millicent and I, along with Joyce and Herbert, tried our best, but we didn’t have custody.”
Slate guided them to the kitchen, trying to think of something to get off the unpleasant topic. Everything, however, came back to Meredith. “We didn’t know she was coming. Dash would’ve been bouncing off the walls if he’d known.”
“That was rather the point.” Millicent picked up a cracker and cheese. “Meredith wanted to surprise him. She’s been in Aberdeen for two years. It required a bit of planning to make it happen.”
“It worked,” Slate said. “Would you like some wine?”
“Tea would be lovely, dear.” She looked at Morten, and he nodded. “Two, please. We’ll drink the wine with dinner.”
Slate filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Dash’s voice wafted down from the second floor. Whatever he was saying, Meredith found it funny. Very funny, judging by her laughter.
“I always know when he’s calling her,” Slate said, taking the box of tea from the cabinet. “They bicker and laugh and shout, and sometimes they cry. That happened on the anniversary of Joyce’s death. Dash had paced around until she returned his call. They both miss her.”
“I had to threaten to withhold money from my son, and bribe their mother, to let them stay with Joyce and Herbert,” Morten said. “They lived in the same school district as the kids. But we could only get them to agree to school weeks instead of permanently.”
That explained things he hadn’t wanted to ask Dash because he knew it was painful. “Dash mentioned Meredith went to Europe to find herself.”