Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
ALICE
This is it, my big chance to write. It’s time for my ultimate retreat. No caretaking, no drama, no distractions.
And as soon as I peel myself off the floor and bounce back from this pancake coma, I’ll get right to work.
Cross my heart.
I’m not even sure where my mind wanders as I lie on the guest room floor. There’s a window built into the angled ceiling above me, nestled in the steep pitched roof of Charlie’s schoolhouse, and I have the most incredible view of the trees outside. The way they rustle in the light summer breeze. Which is way less scary than returning to the Manuscript That Must Not Be Named.
It isn’t that I haven’t written anything; that’s not the kind of writer’s block I’m dealing with. It’s that I’ve written everything, multiple times, and it’s still wrong, wrong, wrong.
Before I can figure out how to fix it, what magic words I could recite or prayer I could say to save me, two things happen at once. My phone buzzes with a FaceTime call from my brother, and there’s a loud knock on the front door.
A visitor?
I’m home alone—Lydia’s dog isn’t even here. I’ve been in this town less than twenty-four hours, and that knock can’t be for me. Creeping downstairs, I answer my phone, but I don’t answer the door.
“Hello?” I whisper to Marcus.
Slowly, I peer around the gauzy white curtains that cover the mudroom window by the front door, trying to catch a glimpse of my unexpected guest. All I can see is the edge of their sleeve.
“What are you doing?” my brother asks. Very loudly.
Making a frantic shushing noise, I scurry away from the window, holding my breath. Two quiet seconds pass. Then there’s another, louder, knock on the door.
My brother looks concerned. “Where are you?”
That’s a loaded question, but I knew this moment was coming. Right before I went to bed last night, I realized I hadn’t told my family about Jason and getting dumped. It was late when I remembered, and it was even later in Texas and Virginia. I didn’t want to wake anybody up, but now it’s time.
I take a deep breath. Before I can explain anything, Marcus glances at a different part of his phone screen. Checking a message before swiping it away.
“Sorry—I got a text, but it wasn’t from Mom. Today’s the big day.”
The moment he says that, I remember. I know exactly what big day it is, and my stomach drops down to my knees. “That’s today?”
I made the appointment for our sister myself, three months ago. I marked it on every calendar I own, in every planner and on every app. How did I forget?
My Jason-confession evaporates into thin air. Who cares about my ex at a time like this? We were only together for a year. That felt like forever two seconds ago, but now it’s nothing. A tiny drop of water in a very full bucket.
I don’t have a chance to recover, to figure out what I should say next about our sister’s “big day.” That knock comes again, startling me, and I jump.
“I’m in a town that’s too cute for its own good—suspiciously cute,” I whisper to my brother, backing up toward the washing machine in the corner. “And now there’s someone at the door.”
He’s the perfect person to receive this confession. Marcus started reading Stephen King novels in middle school. He’s been training for this moment for a long time.
“Supernaturally cute or ‘hiding a dark psychological secret’ cute?”
“Maybe both. Possibly neither.”
Our dad was stationed in a lot of places over the years while he was in the Air Force, but we usually wound up living in the nearest big city. I’m a watch-your-back girl, a subways-and-skyscrapers aficionado. I’m not used to all this quaint , to trusting people or places that seem too good to be true. And Ponderosa Falls fits that description to a tee.
Maybe I’m jaded. Or maybe this town is a front, a twisted facade, and I’m the one plucky out-of-towner who can save the world.
I hope not.
Crossing my fingers, I pray that isn’t true, that saving the world from Ponderosa Falls isn’t my destiny. I can’t even finish a novel anymore. Alice Kilpatrick can’t save herself, let alone the world.
Outside, a thin voice wavers on the other side of the door. A female voice. “Alice, are you there? I know you’re the only one home.”
My blood runs cold. How does she know that?
“I ran into Lydia this morning, and she said everyone had to work.”
Oh.
Goose bumps travel down my arms anyway, and I say nothing. Sure, her explanation is good, but maybe it’s too good .
“This is Muriel,” she says. “From book club? I own the haunted bed-and-breakfast next door.”
My brother’s eyes widen, his voice breathless. “A haunted bed-and-breakfast?”
He makes it sound like his dreams are coming true, but this is my nightmare. Marcus’s brow scrunches, and I can practically see him flipping through his mental database of Stephen King plots. Trying to figure out which book this is.
“I hate to bother you,” Muriel continues. “But I think the ghost squirrel might be back, and I could really use your help.”
The what?
My brother shouldn’t look this thrilled. He’s the same guy who was freaked out when I was riding in Charlie’s car. Now he’s excited about haunted houses and undead rodents? That boy really needs to work on his consistency.
Instead, he sighs happily and utters an unfortunate book title. “ Pet Cemetery .”
“Oh, I hope not,” Muriel says on the other side of the door. She can hear us? “Today is busy enough. Finding a mysterious burial ground to go along with my ghost squirrel is the last thing I need.”
Marcus chuckles softly. “I love her,” he whispers. “Let her in. I beg of you.”
Do I have to? The last thing my day needs is an inciting incident. A moment I can look back on years later and go yep, that’s when all the trouble started .
I’m not even sure who Muriel is; there were at least twenty women at book club, and I’m horrible with names. I peer through the window to get a better look. It’s the older lady with salt-and-pepper hair who warned Charlie about me. The woman who knows a little too much about poison. Fantastic.
“Hello, dear,” she says brightly when she spots me. “This will only take a few minutes. He’s a very nice ghost squirrel—most of the time.”
“Let her in…let her in…” my brother chants quietly. I think he might be in love with Muriel.
Heaven help me.
I unlock the door, and I probably also unlock an ancient curse at the same time. That’s just the kind of week I’m having.
“I really appreciate this,” she says, even though I haven’t agreed to anything. “My husband’s at work, and I’d really hate to confront a phantom squirrel on my own.”
Wouldn’t we all?
Hunting demon rodents isn’t really my cup of tea. It’s my anti-tea. And although we’ve got that squirrel outnumbered, it doesn’t feel like enough. An entire army wouldn’t be enough.
I want to say no.
I need to say no.
But one look at that sweet grandmotherly face and I give in. Marcus aims a quiet thumbs up at me over FaceTime, and I tell Muriel to wait while I grab my shoes. As I run upstairs, my brother gives me a quick pep talk, preparing me to meet my horror-novel destiny. Whether I want to or not.
“Save the haunted house,” he says. “Protect Muriel at all costs.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Fate has other plans.
Once I step outside, I hear it: the loud vibration of skateboard wheels on the sidewalk. Charlie Roscoe.
I guess Muriel and I don’t have to fight this squirrel alone after all.