Epilogue
“They washed even did the dishes?” Dash asked. “And put them away?”
Slate stifled a yawn. They’d gotten up early to clean up, but the ballroom was spotless. He didn’t expect they’d clean the entire manor. “So it seems.”
The kitchen smelled of coffee and baking. On the counter, the coffeepot was full, and two plates of muffins waited to be eaten. All that was missing was a handwritten—
“It’s from Gary.” Dash waved a piece of paper in the air.
“‘Most Awesome Dudes Dash and Slate.’ That has a nice ring to it. ‘Thank you again for an amazing night. Same time next year, but you’ll see me again before October. We cleaned up before we left, and Mama Cass made the muffins for Dash. Gary.’”
Blushing, Dash handed Slate the note. “That was nice of them.”
A twinge of jealousy surprised Slate. There was nothing—there would be nothing between them. Why was he jealous Cass did something for Dash? “Very.”
They each took one of what appeared to be blueberry muffins. Where they got the blueberries, he had no idea. He didn’t have any in the house.
Slate broke open his muffin, and it was still slightly warm. He took a bite and had to admit, they were good. Dash was chewing when he made eye contact with Slate. “These are actually good.”
Dash poured two mugs of coffee, and they carried their breakfast to the table.
In the middle of a bite, Dash yawned. Slate didn’t blame him.
They went to bed well after midnight. Believing they needed to clean the manor, Slate had set the alarm for six-thirty.
Neither wanted to get up, but Slate made Dash roll out of bed.
He groaned, but got dressed, muttering something about it being Meredith’s idea.
All that effort was for nothing. “We could’ve stayed in bed,” Slate said between bites.
“Yes, we could have.” Dash raised his eyebrows, and heat crawled up Slate’s neck.
Neither of them was prudish, but having Dash’s grandparents two doors away put a damper on sexy times. “I meant sleep.” Slate reached for his mug. “Right now, however, we’re having coffee.”
“Yes, but we still need to shower.” Dash’s grin was unrepentant.
The air between them charged with the frustration of trying to be good for too long.
Dash theorized that because the bathroom was at the far end of their bedroom, no one would hear them unless they got loud.
After two weeks, he was beginning not to care if anyone heard them.
He popped the last of his muffin into his mouth and took a big sip of coffee.
The place was clean, their guests were asleep, and breakfast was ready. “You’re right, we—”
Slate felt Thomas and Oliver about the same time they materialized near the doorway. They held hands and seemed happy, but there was a nervous edge to their behavior. “Is everything okay?”
“We were wondering if we could have a room,” Oliver said in a rush of words Slate could barely decipher. “A bedroom, actually. Here in the Manor.”
Slate blinked and set his mug down carefully. “A room?”
“I believe he said bedroom,” Dash said with a grin.
“Yes,” Thomas added quickly. “We’d like our own bedroom to have some privacy.”
Too much had already happened, and it wasn’t even seven a.m. Clean house, ghost-made muffins, and now this. He regretted getting up early.
“Absolutely,” Dash said. “Just not our room or the two rooms currently in use, of course.”
“Of course,” Oliver said, visibly relieved. “There are plenty of others we can choose.”
The look of joy on their faces helped Slate get up to speed on what they were asking for and why. “The ones on the east side have nice sun in the morning. If you care about that sort of thing.”
Oliver’s form brightened, as if Dash’s agreement hadn’t been enough. The usually stoic Thomas wore a smile that softened much of the pain he carried with him. Slate gave them an A for not wasting time getting settled together.
“We’ll check out those rooms first,” Thomas said. “Thank you. Not just for the room.”
They vanished before Slate or Dash could respond.
The kitchen felt emptier without them. Quiet in a way that made the hum of the refrigerator suddenly audible.
Dash cradled his mug between his hands. “Do you think they can… you know?”
The question caught him off guard. Ghosts were spectral energy given form through will and memory.
Physical interaction required them to become substantial enough to affect the living world.
He’d seen Thomas open doors, watched Oliver pick up objects.
But that level of solidity differed from intimate contact.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Me neither.” Dash’s expression shifted. “And right now, I’m not going to think about it because I need a shower.”
The fire reignited inside Slate. “Me too.”
He stood to put his cup in the sink, but Cain suddenly appeared in the middle of the kitchen. He kept his soldier form from the night before, and despite the uniform, he radiated peace. Contentment showed in every spectral line of his form.
“You clean up nice, Cain,” Dash said, grinning at their new friend.
“It felt right.” He shrugged. “I decided to keep it for now.”
From their initial meeting, Cain had seemed slightly out of phase with himself. Not any longer. “Good. Do whatever makes you happy.”
“That’s my plan,” he said. “Thank you both. For everything.”
“Are you leaving?” Slate asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Yes.” He smiled, and his gaze seemed far away. “I spent the last fifty years chasing what I thought I missed by dying early. When I got drafted, I envied the hippies who just got to do whatever they wanted. So I fell in with Gary and his friends. It was fun, but I want something more.”
“More?” Dash asked. “As in see more of the world?”
“That, and maybe find someone to see it with.” Cain blushed, and Slate found it adorable. “Thomas and Oliver getting together showed me what’s possible. I’m going to chase that dream for a while.”
Cain wasn’t the innocent kid he’d once been, but he had a good heart. “We wish you all the best, Cain. Stop by and visit now and then.”
“I’m glad you said that,” Cain said. “If it’s okay, I’d like to use the Manor as my anchor.”
“You’re not going to ask for a room too, are you?” Dash tried to sound put out, but he was smiling too widely to sell it.
“Not right now.” Cain shrugged. “But maybe someday.”
At this rate, the Manor would fill up fast, but the thought didn’t bother Slate. “We’ll be glad to see you whenever you come back.”
Cain gave them a two-finger salute—part military precision, part peace sign—and faded.
“I think that’s everyone,” Dash said. “Gary left a note, the boys are upstairs, and Cain is off on a new adventure. Let’s go before someone new drops—”
A shriek echoed from upstairs. “Meredith?”
Dash pushed away from the table a second before Slate. They bolted for the stairs, and Slate wondered what could have scared… “Oh shit. Do you think—”
“It has to be.” Dash took the stairs two at a time, but then pulled up so fast Slate ran into him.
Meredith stood on the landing in her pajamas and wild bed hair. She blinked several times before rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Mermaid! What’s wrong?”
“I was using the bathroom,” Meredith said, staring straight ahead and still blinking. “There were noises in the adjoining room—”
Slate barely held back a snort. Dash’s shoulders shook, and Slate heard the smothered laugh coming from in front of him.
“—but I couldn’t imagine what you’d be doing in that room at this hour, so I opened the door and—”
She stopped. Made a helpless gesture with both hands that encompassed everything she couldn’t seem to articulate. “I saw everything.”
Slate’s teeth dug deep into his lip, and Dash made a sound that might’ve been a cough but was definitely suppressed laughter.
“They were—” Meredith tried to use her hands to explain, but it didn’t help. “They didn’t have—there was no—”
“The coffee’s ready, and we’ve got blueberry muffins,” Dash said. “You’ll love them. They’re out of this world good.”
“Thank God your boyfriend can bake.” Meredith shot Slate a grateful look. “I hope there’s enough of both. I might need two muffins and a pot of coffee.”
She moved around them and continued down the stairs. He wasn’t certain, but Slate thought she said, ‘I’ll never unsee that.’
Slate waited until her footsteps faded toward the kitchen and then lost it. Dash joined him, clutching the railing so he wouldn’t fall.
“It’s not funny,” Dash said, waving his hand like it would help.
“Not at all.” Slate nodded at first, but then shook his head, because that was after all the correct reaction.
Their admonishments didn’t stifle their continued laughter. Dash wiped his eyes, and Slate pressed his hand against his lips. Finally, they got themselves under control.
“Guess that answers that,” Dash said.
“At least we weren’t kept in suspense.” Slate replied. “Should we go check on them?”
“Probably.”
The bedroom that shared a bathroom with Meredith was the last one on the left. The door was shut, so Slate knocked.
After a long pause—too long given the size of the room—Thomas poked his head through the door. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, may we come in?” Dash asked. “My traumatized sister is downstairs getting coffee and a muffin.”
Thomas’s head disappeared back through the door, and then it opened.
Thomas had joined Oliver, and they stood in the middle of the room.
They looked like teenagers who’d been caught doing just what they’d obviously been doing.
Oliver was still adjusting his waistcoat, even though it was perfect.
Thomas stared at the floor with the kind of focus usually reserved for defusing bombs.
“So,” Slate said gently. “Meredith…”
Both ghosts turned colors that Slate didn’t know spirits could achieve.
“We didn’t realize anyone would be up—” Oliver said.
“Everyone except you two was asleep when we picked—” Thomas said at the same time.
Slate almost laughed again, but Oliver looked on the verge of tears. “It’s okay,” he said, “And you’re not in trouble. But maybe we should get you a key.”
Thomas looked up finally. “A key?”
“Yeah, you know that thing that can lock the door. That key,” Dash said. “Then no one can walk in on you.”
“You’re not upset?” Oliver’s voice came out small, uncertain.
“Why would we be upset?” Slate asked, sounding like it was a ridiculous question. “It’s your room. You deserve your privacy.”
The carefully controlled expression Thomas usually maintained cracked. “Thank you—for the room, for letting us stay, and for giving us our own space.”
“You’re welcome.” Dash looked down his nose at them. “Now you know how it feels to have someone watch you.”
Slate tilted his head, waiting for them to make the connection.
“We do,” Thomas said. “And it won’t happen again.”
“Okay then.” Dash exhaled. “Now we need to go check on Mermaid, and then I really need a shower.”
They turned to leave, but Oliver caught them before they left. “Thank you both. We appreciate everything you do for us.”
Slate didn’t think they did all that much. Short of binding them, there wasn’t much he and Dash could do to keep them away. Plus they were good company. “You bet.”
They made it halfway down the stairs when Meredith passed them going up, muffin in hand.
“It’s too early for this, Doc,” she announced. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Sleep well,” Slate offered.
“Thanks.” She held up a muffin. “These are great. You need to teach me how to make them before I go back to London.”
She climbed past them as if Slate had agreed, and it was all settled.
Slate shook his head and turned to head back to the kitchen. Dash grabbed his arm before he made it one step. “Our room is that way.” He pointed up the stairs.
Slate stared at Dash in confusion before he understood. He didn’t change direction at first. Maybe all the interruptions were a sign to make new plans. Dash, however, didn’t let go, so Slate let himself be rerouted to his bedroom.
“What if Cain wants a room?” Slate said. “This could get out of hand.”
“Yeah, but they’re great helpers.” Dash gestured toward the ballroom. “We could get them to work off their rent.”
“We can afford to pay humans.”
“Ghosts are better. You tasted Cass’s muffins.” Dash realized his mistake only after he’d finished speaking.
He realized what he’d said half a second too late. His eyes went wide. “They’re not better than yours, of course, just better than other humans.”
Slate let the silence stretch just long enough for Dash to look nervous. “Didn’t you say we needed to be quiet in the shower?”
Pretending to lock his mouth with a key, Dash threw the imaginary item over his shoulder and pointed toward their room.
“That’s what I thought.” Slate started climbing again. “Just make sure we lock our door.”
The End