Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It took three hours, but we turned the movie theater’s lobby into a venue to rival even the flashiest red carpet. I picked my way along icy sidewalks with arms full of cheesy decorations and bruised my bicep with the number of times I had to bump open the glass doors at the theater entrance. Ronnie insisted it remained closed while we were trekking back and forth because he refused to heat the neighborhood on the theater’s dime.
But by the time we were finished, the shoulder pain was the last thing on my mind. The building had been transformed. Halloween-themed decorations were strung up throughout the theater. Ghostly cut-outs plastered across the walls; fake spiderwebs and black and orange streamers twisted down the hallway. We’d even propped up mirrors painted to display ghostly apparitions and eerie eyes, turning the entire post-Christmas event into something decidedly All Hallows’ Eve in nature.
Julian invited the crew, Natalie and her brothers, and any locals who wanted a sneak peek. Fancy “Reserved” cards were propped on the front row seats, one with my name in orange glitter—something else that was likely to put Ronnie over the edge.
I arrived early, in a long, white dress that turned me into something ghostly. Though the over-the-top aspect of it all was eye-rollingly ridiculous, I was happy to support James and Julian on their big night.
We set up the snack buffet—theater foods like popcorn and boxes of candy, and spooky favorites like candy apples and hot cider. With the remaining winter holiday decorations still hung in the lobby paired with our Halloween-inspired feast, it was difficult to tell where on the calendar we landed.
I’d finished unwrapping the trays of white-chocolate-covered strawberries made to look like ghosts, when Julian rushed up behind me—wearing an Ebenezer Scrooge costume, further confusing my grasp of the season.
“Lex, hi! Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. How are you doing? Ready for your big premiere?”
“I’d be more ready if I didn’t have to worry about you heckling me from the audience.”
I met his playful smile with a genuine grin. “As long as you worked Boots in, like I asked—”
“Demanded,” he corrected.
“Like I demanded , then I have no complaints. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“Just sit back and enjoy. We’re all celebrating! It wasn’t just us out there. You and Nat were knee-deep in snowbanks and up to your elbows in gobo lights, too. Revel.”
Ronnie and his staff ushered the waiting attendees down the length of the rope-light-illuminated ramp—significantly more than the small group we’d expected. James sat on a three-legged stool, in front of a giant movie screen. The usual Henley had been swapped for a fitted suit, but that stupid Yankees cap was still perched on top of his head, calling to me like a beacon.
He noticed me slip in and wiggled his hand down beside his leg, a quick little greeting. I ghosted down the aisle and settled into my reserved seat beside Natalie’s brother.
They introduced themselves to cheers, and a wave of excitement washed over me. Not for the vlog stories I’d invented, which had become so much more—though the ghost story longevity was both surprising and vindicating. But for the next few months, years, decades I’d get to spend with James.
“… and when James said, ‘How about Stowe, Vermont? That place sounds cool,’ I laughed,” Julian joked from his spot on stage.
“He did.” James nodded. “He laughed, then he agreed, because he knew I was right. This place has so much history. And passion. And some really spooky locations. So, we packed up and hit the road.”
“James drives like a granny, so I’ve learned my lesson. If you want to arrive somewhere in time to shoot during nice, warm weather, take the wheel before he does. We showed up just as the first snowstorm blew in. We might have missed the good weather, but we got the maple coffee and starlit sleigh rides. You Vermonters sure know how to embrace cozy. I’ve gotta admit, though, we were worried that we’d completely dropped the ball by missing Halloween—prime paranormal season. That’s when we figured out an important detail: you’ve got a really spooky wintertime scene. There’s that ghost who haunts the Christmas shop in the plaza—he’s a real jerk, you know. He knocked over a whole display of glitter pine cones.”
James clenched his jaw, wrinkled his nose, and raised his hand. “That was me.”
“That was you?” Julian repeated, faux surprise earning a collective chuckle from the crowd. “Okay, but there was that incident with the broken lampshade. It was in perfect shape before we went into the inn, then it was shattered.”
James’s mouth scrunched to one side. “Me again, I’m afraid.”
Laughter rippled through the room again as Julian pressed his fists to his hips and gave James a bug-eyed look. “You mean to tell me I convinced Mr. Smithe that he had a poltergeist, all for nothing?”
James lifted his hands, palms-up. “Afraid so.”
“Right. So next you’re going to tell me that you accidentally knocked my hat off my head while we were filming at Emily’s bridge, or that you dropped a bowling ball down the stairs at the Green Mountain Inn, and it wasn’t actually a ghost tap-dancing on the roof?”
The crowd leaned in, all as one, listening for James’s answer.
“Oh, well. No. Those weren’t me at all.”
Julian slapped his hands against his cheeks, slapstick comedy at its finest. There was a reason crowds flocked to him. Charisma. The guy had more of it than was fair.
“I guess you’ve found yourself a couple of real, true spirits, Julian.” James flashed a mischievous smile and leaned forward to rest an elbow on his knee.
“Really, folks,” Julian said, his hands raised to quiet the laughter. “It’s been a pleasure to get to know you all. I know James especially enjoys the doughnuts from the bakery.”
“Don’t rat me out—everyone will know I’ve been getting my pasty fix at places other than Dog-Eared.” James nudged Julian, who grinned.
“I’m getting the all clear from Natalie in the projection booth, so that means our film is ready to go.” He pointed at the audience. “Thank you. Thank each and every one of you for welcoming us into your town, letting us get to know you, film in your inns and restaurants and stores and homes. James was right. Stowe was the place to go. You showed us community and love, and we will forever be grateful. The next step is to take this show on the road.” Julian paused, looked at James, and they exchanged tight-lipped smiles—the band was breaking up, but they’d only be a call away.
“And now … as the crew prepares to wander from coast to coast, small towns to metropolises, mountaintop chalets to greasy diners—” Frank let out a whoop that earned a round of applause from the crowd. “Now, we show you your eerie town from an outsider’s perspective. You’ve let us poke and prod and explore. And this is our gift to you. As we prepare to submit our competition entry—and hopefully win, or at least get into a couple of indie film festivals along the way—we’re excited to show you the finished product.”
“ Mostly finished product,” James interrupted. “You still have to edit out that part where I sneeze, and it looks like I jumped.”
“You absolutely jumped,” Julian said.
“It was a sneeze,” James said, to the delight of the audience. “I never jump. Nerves of steel.”
Julian raised his hands above his head. “Boo!”
James jumped. The crowd broke into laughter that morphed into applause as the lights dimmed. Then the documentary began as James slipped into the reserved seat beside me.
The movie screen flashed an eerie scene from Emily’s Bridge, the night before they filmed our haunted tour. Curling, twisting fog and exaggerated shadows stretching across the dirt road and scraping at the opposite snow bank. Julian’s voiceover narrated, explaining the evolution of Emily’s story, detailing the events that led to her untimely death, after her lover abandoned her. Throughout the film, collective gasps came from the crowd as the on-screen ghost hunters pointed at eerie apparitions beyond and recounted spooky tales.
The narrative brought our tiny town to life through stories (and rumors) about real residents and fictional phantoms—highlighting the way the local lore made everything feel just a bit more magical, and made everyone feel a little more connected. The film took the position that ghost stories were more than a simple answer of “yes, ghosts” or “no, ghosts.” Not knowing what was real and what was imagined, but accepting the possibility anyway, infused the town with a special, infinitely shareable kind of magic. A few Haunted Happenings shout-outs—and inset clips of teenage me, setting the scene for some of the less-believable tales—brought my ghost stories full-circle. What I’d started had grown beyond me, giving my spirits life.
The standing ovation at the end of the film was unexpected, but wonderful. Julian and James beamed, thanked the crowd, then encouraged everyone to eat and drink to their hearts’ content. While James and I dipped into the punch bowl and snacked on the brownies, Natalie and Julian worked the room like they were interconnected—like they’d been partners for ages.
I spied as Natalie and Julian chatted with Mama and Papa Stiller in the far corner—the big conversation about her leaving. The discussion appeared civil, but Natalie wore her concern in the pull between her eyebrows. When Papa Stiller gave Natalie a playful knock in the shoulder, I let out a sigh. That was basically code for “go get ’em, tiger,” the same encouragement he used before we’d rushed onto the soccer field before every game. Mama Stiller hugged Julian, then Natalie’s dad offered a hand for Julian to shake. New Year’s Eve was a time for forward motion and new experiences. Everything good happened on the thirty-first of December.
I congratulated Natalie and Julian on the successful sharing of news, and on the crowd that blew our original estimated head count out of the water. “I’m glad you’ve been able to celebrate,” I told them.
“We’re just getting started. We were going to take some champagne to Emily.” Natalie smiled, then rose onto her tippy toes to peek over my shoulder. “Hey, James! Want to see if we can get any ghosts to come out and play?”
James swept up beside me. “The answer is an emphatic no, but thanks. Unless Lex is going too, to protect me.”
“I think I’ll pass this time,” I said. “I’ve got a date with some guy who just moved to town.”
“I hope he’s got good taste in books,” James said.
“He’s got at least two copies of all of the best ones.” I grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him to me for a kiss. “And now, if the witty banter portion of the evening is over, can we go home now? Ronnie must have the heat set on fifty. This room is freezing.”
James slipped out of his wool coat and draped it over my shoulders. “Someday you’ll figure out how to dress for the winter weather,” he said.
I wrinkled my nose. “Make me.”
There was a late-winter blizzard rolling in, and with Natalie and Julian heading out in two weeks, I had to get used to shoveling. Snowflakes were falling by the time I got outside to head to work. The giant, cold kind, with wet-sounding smacks on the pavement when they landed. My favorite.
James was leaning against his car in the driveway, waiting to drive me in to the bookstore. “Oh, I see, now that you’re going to own the place, you think you can saunter in late whenever you want?”
I shook my head and sucked air through my teeth, then leaned sideways to scoop up a handful of snow. It was packed into a snowball before I was upright again. I chucked it across the driveway.
The snowball exploded into a million ice crystals when James blocked it effortlessly before bending to pack his own snowball. I was less fortunate: His snowball grazed my chin and I shrieked—both in surprise and amusement.
“Oh, crap!” James rushed over to where I stood, shocked, then leaned in to brush a thumb along where the snowball had struck. “The one time my aim is spot-on. Sorry.” I laughed as he examined my face, reveling in the care he was taking, then swallowed the giggles when he leaned in to press kisses along my jawbone.
“Okay, okay, but I really am late. Even if Charles isn’t calling at opening anymore, I have a list of things I have to do to get this purchase moving.” We drove down the long hill toward the bookstore, hands clasped atop the center console.
I performed my morning ritual of unlocking and double-kicking the bottom edge of the door to release it. “Works every time.”
Lulu nosed her way through the crack in the door, then catapulted herself into her favorite chair.
“First order of business as the incoming owner,” James said. “You have to do something about this coffee club. It’s a privacy data nightmare. I have it on good authority that one of the employees was using the phone numbers gathered to solicit dates.”
“Oh, well obviously that won’t do,” I said. “Suggestions?”
“I hear that punch cards are a much safer option. Fewer customer details to keep track of, too.”
“Very wise choice.” I contorted my face into a mock-serious glare. “I’d also like to propose a new rule.” I pointed to the chair where Lulu had flopped onto her back, all four feet splayed in the air. “Someone has got to put a sign on that chair because I think she’s claimed it fair and square.”
“Completely reasonable.” James leaned in and kissed me, looping both arms behind my back and clasping his hands to pull me tighter. The kiss was comfort and safety and togetherness all in one.
His embrace was better than home.