Chapter 26. Holly
Holly
Holly took a deep breath, inhaling the ocean air. She had set up her al fresco office on the shoreline of Crescent Beach, where she watched the seagulls patrol the skies in search of an unattended bag of chips.
A pang of longing sank into her chest. All her favorite memories were here, from building sandcastles to boy-watching with Anna. The chair on which she sat was the same one she’d used to read the first two volumes of the Sookie Stackhouse series.
She had everything she needed for a productive workday: an umbrella for shade, a cooler full of seltzer water, and a legal pad and pen.
What she didn’t have were any good ideas.
She dug her toes into the sand, the grit pressing into her flesh like a pleasing foot massage.
She sipped her drink and gazed out over the water at a scattering of white sails and the occasional frothy wake of a passing motorboat.
If she couldn’t find inspiration here, perhaps she would never find it.
She came full circle, back to Beach Thriller. Jade’s enthusiasm continued to tug at her. Perhaps she could finish the story she stopped writing when Anna died. The tricky part was getting started again. Watching the looping circles of the sailboats wasn’t going to butter her bread.
After an hour of false starts and dead ends, she balled up the new pages and tossed them into the cooler, destined for the trash.
Then the doubt set in: What if she’d thrown away something good—words she’d never get back?
When she went to fetch them, one of the crumpled pages started taunting her like the damn thing could talk, a deep fold in the paper shaped like a mouth that moved up and down like a paper puppet.
Had she overdosed on sunscreen? Her imagination was certainly running wild.
You don’t know exactly what happened the night Anna died. Find the answers. Clear your conscience. Finish your story.
“Fuck off,” Holly said, closing the lid on the cooler with authority, silencing the puppet.
But she hadn’t silenced her phone, which rang, shocking her out of her reverie. Holly contemplated letting Dan’s call go to voicemail. She had no progress to report. Her agent wanted to talk? Fine. He could know the sorry state of her existence.
“Holly, it’s Dan,” he said in a cheerful but officious manner. Didn’t he know that all incoming calls had caller ID? She let it go.
“Dan, how nice to hear from you,” she lied.
“Look, I wanted to apologize if I was pushy on the phone the other day. I’m never that way with my clients, and I don’t know what came over me.”
Holly thanked him for his concern, assured him it was fine, but she understood the real reason for his call.
“No flashes of inspiration yet. But you’ll be the first to know when the muse strikes.”
Holly swore she could hear her paper puppet calling out from the cooler in a sibilant, evil little voice. Find the answers … finish your novel …
“I still think you should try your hand at a romance—those are perennially popular. Maybe pick up a summer fling for yourself so you have real-life material to work with.”
Holly groaned. How sad that even Dan knew it had been way too long.
“Look, Dan, I have to go,” said Holly. “Jade will be home from work soon, and I have to get dinner ready.”
“Jade?” Dan asked. “Who is Jade?”
“Long story.”
“Can you write it?”
Holly almost laughed. “I promise I’ll call when I have pages to share, okay? I’m going to get there.”
“I believe in you. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
God, she hated when he used the “pep talk” voice.
No sooner had Dan ended the call than her phone trilled again. It was a FaceTime request from Shae. How the hell was she supposed to get any writing done? Holly braced herself for the conversation. Shae had a way of seeing through her masks.
One tap, and there she was, her smiley, life-is-perfect, I-love-California face, filling the screen.
“Haven’t heard a peep from you, and that makes me worried.” Shae raised an eyebrow.
Her friend could be a worrywart, and Holly was in no mood for life advice. She had to say something that wouldn’t raise Shae’s other eyebrow.
“I’m at the beach working—what could be better?” She turned her phone around to give Shae a view of the beachgoers frolicking in the water.
“Wish I could be there with you. How’s everything else?”
“Things are good. Just getting settled. The house is in rough shape, but I have a handyman helping me out.”
Shit. Holly had tried for a neutral tone, but she had put a little too much emphasis on a certain word.
“Oh, a handyman … is he handsy too?”
Jeez, Shae was perceptive. Her kids were never going to get away with anything.
“He’s gorgeous and taken,” said Holly. “But that’s for the best,” she added, reading the disappointment in Shae’s eyes. “I’m busy trying to get this place together and write my book.” And doing all that while looking after a teen refugee, she added silently.
“I can’t talk long anyway. I just wanted to see your face and know that you’re well.”
“Oh, my god. I’m so well. I’m like—extra well. Thank God for Meow Mindfulness because I’d be a disaster without it. That cat is a lifesaver.”
Shae’s warm laugh was like comfort food. “I hope you’re actually reading it because I really think it can help. I’m worried you’re lonely. Tell me you’re not lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” said Holly more emphatically.
“And I have enough money,” she added. “I know if I say otherwise, you’ll try to force a handout on me, and I don’t need handouts.
I’m genuinely okay.” For once, she wasn’t lying.
Allen Spellman had bailed her out. She should do something nice for him.
Maybe bring him a signed book—though he’d most likely get more out of Meow Mindfulness, like the rest of the world.
Holly ended the call, promising to check in more often, then packed her things to go. It was only a short walk along a sandy path lined with beach grass to her house. It should fill her with gratitude, but instead, it just made her miss her family and the good times they once shared.
When she cleared the embankment, Holly was surprised to see Serena standing on her doorstep, holding a casserole dish covered in tinfoil.
Holly called to her, waving as she crossed the street. She set the beach stuff down against the side of the house. They greeted each other with a couple of cheek kisses.
“My psychic powers told me you hadn’t made dinner yet,” Serena said.
“You have the gift,” said Holly, and they shared a laugh.
Serena’s billowy skirt flowed behind her as she trailed Holly inside. She headed straight for the kitchen. Holly appreciated that she seemed right at home. It gave her a feeling of community.
“It’s eggplant Parmesan. My grandmother’s recipe is so delicious, you won’t believe it.” Serena set the dish next to the stovetop before turning on the oven. “I thought you could use a home-cooked meal and a little company.”
Holly was sure it was the smell of food and not Serena’s jangly bracelets that summoned Chester. He jumped up on a chair, meowed for a morsel, but received a scratch behind the ears instead. That seemed to please him.
“It’s nice of you to do this,” said Holly, who set the table for three.
When Serena saw the place settings, she eyed Holly slyly. “I knew it,” she said. “I just knew it.”
Holly finished setting out the silverware. “Knew what?”
“That you were going to have a visitor,” said Serena.
“I felt it strongly: someone joining you. This person is important in your life and will change everything, but in ways you can’t begin to imagine.
It’s all happening, Holly. It’s substantial.
Seismic, even. There’s a lot of energy surrounding you. ”
Holly blanched. “A lot of energy? Like, is that good or bad?” She feared the answer. Though this important person was likely Jade, what if it was a more threatening presence—such as an intimidating cop, angered by her questions? Or even—?
“Hey, do you know the creepy busker who parks himself outside the Bean There Café?”
“Of course,” said Serena. “He’s a scourge around these parts, and one of those conspiracy theorist types. What about him?”
“I’m worried he might be following me.”
Serena’s lips parted slightly, her brow furrowing. “Hmm. You need to listen to those feelings. My guides keep telling me that you have to be extremely cautious right now. It’s that big energy around you. Maybe we should do a reading.”
Holly declined. What if the cards told her to stop asking questions? She didn’t want to be scared off her path.
“I need a trivet for the casserole dish,” Serena said as she started digging through the cabinets. All she found was a small stack of paper plates. Holly barely had enough silverware for three.
The front door opened and closed quickly. Jade appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a box, about to say something to Holly, but turned her attention to Serena instead.
Serena’s eyes went wide as two saucers. “Oh, it’s you. You’re what I was picking up.”
Jade looked perplexed. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Holly introduced everyone. Since Serena saw things that most people couldn’t, Holly chose honesty over a concocted story. “This is Jade. I found her squatting in the cottage, so I gave her a place to stay for a little while.”
Jade spoke up. “And I just got a job, working for Maeve Carmichael, helping to sort through her dead husband’s belongings.”
Serena took it all in stride. “It was meant to be. You two are together for a reason.”
Holly heard the puppet voice again: Find the answers … finish your novel … Maybe Serena could ask the spirits if she was going insane.
Jade set the box she was carrying on the table. “I found this outside. It’s addressed to you.”
The small parcel, about the size of a shoebox, was wrapped in brown paper and addressed to Holly, but had no return address or postage.