Chapter 2 #2
But there’s no way to explain that without making the whole situation worse and having to explain why I didn’t just go order myself a drink already, so I smile weakly and say, “Thank you. That’s really kind. Um, a cappuccino would be great.” Milky breakfast-y goodness.
“No worries, have a seat.” He waves a hand toward the free chairs at the table, then turns in the direction of the counter and calls, “Hey, Mindy!”
Mindy—and half the patrons in the place—looks over. “What?”
“Can I have a cappuccino for Josh, please? Just add it to my tab.”
Mindy gives him a thumbs-up, and Kieran joins me at the table.
“So, you come here often, huh?” I say, then want to kick myself, because it almost sounds like a come-on.
Fortunately for me, Kieran seems to get my humor, because he laughs. “Every day, pretty much. Sometimes twice. I might be slightly addicted to coffee.”
“That’s me with nail polish,” I joke, and immediately wish I could take it back when his gaze drops to my hands.
My polish-free hands. “I wanted to make a good impression today, so I took it off.” Fuck.
That sounds like I think he’d be closed-minded about it.
Which, after our Zoom call, I don’t, but still, I wanted to hedge my bets.
This interview is not going well, and it hasn’t even properly started. I’m too nervous. I need to chill.
“We’re not all that strict about the dress code,” he says, seemingly not offended.
“Neat and clean and no profanity. If we’re having a themed event, you’ll be asked to dress in appropriate costume—which we’ll provide—and the guides and instructors wear period clothing, but the rest of us just try to dress presentably.
What you’re wearing now is fine. And so is nail polish or any other cosmetics you might want to wear. ”
“That’s good to know.” And surely he wouldn’t be telling me about the dress code if I’d blown my chances. “Uh, I also wanted to thank you for meeting me here instead of at the estate.”
He smiles. “That’s no problem. I live here in town, so it was just as easy to delay going in and meet you. When you said you’d be catching the bus to town, it seemed like the best solution. There’s no easy way to get out to the estate without a car.”
I’ve never had a car because I’ve never been able to get a license.
You try learning to drive with a ghost yammering in the back seat…
or another one strolling nonchalantly in front of the car and nearly giving you a heart attack.
But I could have gotten an Uber or Lyft out to the estate if I had to.
The town’s not that small. Like I said before, though, the estate is haunted as fuck.
No way did I want to try to have this interview surrounded by ghosts.
It’s bad enough there’s one staring fixedly at the side of my head right now.
Kieran’s still talking. “…so you’ll probably be able to get by without one if you only leave the estate when you can grab a lift from someone, but I’d be happy to ask around town and try to find you a cheap car if you want. Just let me know.”
“That’s so nice, thank you, but I don’t have a driver’s license. Never needed one, living in Chicago. The L and buses took me wherever I needed to go. It could be fun to learn to drive,” I announce perkily as Mindy brings over my coffee.
“Here you go. And go you, learning new things at your age.”
At… my age?
“Thanks?” I blink at her retreating back, then glance over at Kieran, who’s hiding a smile behind the rim of his coffee cup. “Um, did I age fifty years in the last two minutes?”
“No. Mindy’s eighteen. Everyone over twenty-five is old to her.”
“So I must seem ancient at… twenty-eight.”
He lifts his cup in salute. “How do you think I feel, at thirty-five? Plus, I used to babysit her when I was home from college. She literally thinks of me as being her dad’s age. Which isn’t far off.”
We laugh, and I mentally thank Mindy for breaking the tension.
Kieran begins by reiterating what he told me about the job during our Zoom call, then asks a few questions about my past work experience.
I answer this bit carefully, aware that most employers don’t like to see such a…
er, varied job history. To be honest, I think the only reason I’m even in the running for this job is because it’s basically a twenty-four-hours-on-call general dogsbody position, nearly two hours from the city and a ten-minute drive from the outskirts of the nearest town.
There wouldn’t have been thousands of applicants.
And sure enough, he’s more interested in the types of duties I’m used to performing, especially the customer-facing ones, than in how long I was in any previous role. I slowly start to relax.
This is going pretty well. I even manage to get another laugh out of him. I think he genuinely likes me, which bodes well if I’m going to work for him.
Meanwhile, the ghost is still sitting there, staring at me. It’s gone beyond unnerving and is taking every ounce of willpower to ignore her. At least she’s silent. It’s easier to block out staring than words, especially since I can barely see her in my periphery.
Kieran sits back in his chair and pushes his empty coffee cup away. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Ah, my chance to sound insightful and intelligent. “Actually, yes. You mentioned last time we spoke that I’d be required to pitch in and help with other duties when I’m not busy, and that’s fine, but are you able to give me any insight on what those duties might be?”
His smile is wry. “They could be anything. For example, yesterday morning I was standing ankle-deep in what I really hope was just mud helping Daniel pick broccoli. Daniel’s in charge of our farm,” he adds. “Have I told you about the farm?”
“No, but I knew the estate had one. It’s used to showcase old-fashioned and organic farming methods, right?”
He nods, beaming, clearly pleased I’ve done my research. “Yes. It’s not big, only about ten acres, but Daniel makes the most of every inch. And the crops make a wonderful supplement to the restaurant menu for our overnight guests. In fact—”
His phone rings, cutting him off, and he glances at the screen, then frowns. “I’m so sorry, Josh, I’m going to take this.”
“No problem,” I assure him, picking up the cup with the dregs of my cappuccino. As he answers and heads toward the door, I lean back in my chair and let my gaze drift toward the artwork on the wall behind the ghost. Now’s my chance to check her out.
Sipping from my cup and nonchalantly studying what might be the ugliest painting I’ve ever seen, I get a better look at the silent-but-intrusive ghost.
She looks like my grandmother. White hair cut in a sleek cap, twin set, pearl earrings, and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck.
I wish that told me more about her, but here’s a hard-learned fact about ghosts: they don’t spend eternity in the clothes they died in.
Their visual forms, even the ones most people can’t see, are basically pure energy, so they can make themselves look however they want to.
It can be a real mindfuck when a ghost who looks like an extra from a punk music video speaks like an old-school British duke, three-hundred-year-old idioms included.
So, I have no idea if this ghost was actually born during the twentieth century, the nineteenth, or even this one. Though usually, young ghosts don’t like to age themselves until they’re thoroughly bored of being young.
I let my gaze slide away from the ugly painting and finish the last of my cappuccino. I don’t know what the ghost is doing here, but she seems harmless. Maybe she just likes this table and we’re intruding on her space.
Kieran returns, dropping into his chair with a sigh. “Sorry about that. We’re shorthanded at the moment—clearly, or I wouldn’t be here, right? But it means I can’t ignore a call, just in case they need me.”
“That’s fine.” I smile brightly.
“So, let me just make sure there’s nothing else I wanted to ask,” he says, tapping his phone.
From the corner of my eye, I see the ghost lean toward him. “YOU SHOULD HIRE THIS ONE! HE HAS A GOOD AURA!” she yells.
I flinch, bumping the table and making the cups rattle.
Both Kieran and the ghost look at me.
I try not to sweat.
“You okay?” Kieran asks.
“Yeah. Sorry. I, uh, my leg twitched.” God, please let my face not look guilty right now.
He scrunches up his face. “I hate when that happens.”
“HIRE HIM! HIRE HIM! STOP CHATTING AND HIRE HIM SO WE CAN GO HOME!”
I can’t help it; my eyes flick toward her.
She notices, straightening in the chair and turning the full force of her attention back to me even as I glance away, trying to recover.
Worse… Kieran notices. He studies my face, then flicks a glance toward the ghost, almost as if he knows she’s there, then looks back to me.
Fuck. What’s even happening here?
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” the ghost, who is still shouting for reasons I don’t understand, demands. I swallow the giant lump in my throat, determined not to screw this chance up. I’m ignoring her no matter what.
Kieran leans forward. “Uh, this might sound weird, but can you hear her?”
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Did he…?
Does he…?
He said “her,” right? A specific reference to a woman. He wasn’t just asking if I’d heard something.
Maybe… can he hear her too?
I clasp my hands together to hide how much they’re shaking. “Uh, h-hear… who?”
Disappointment flashes across his face, and he shakes his head. “Never mi—”
“DON’T BELIEVE HIM. HE CAN HEAR ME! DIDN’T YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU LYING IS A SIN?”
My whole body jerks in reaction. Why can’t I fake anything like a normal person?
Kieran’s eyes narrow.
We sit there in awkward silence. I can feel the ghost glaring at me, but there’s no way in hell I’m turning to look at her.
“You’ve done some research on the estate,” Kieran says, seemingly casual.
I clear my throat. “Yes. N-Not anything special, but I’ve checked out the website and some of the review sites.”
“Then you know we’re haunted. That deters a lot of prospective employees.”