Chapter 2
Freya hung up the phone and strolled over to the kitchen table. “As it turns out, I’ve had a cancellation. I can get started now, or would you prefer to make an appointment for later in the week?”
“Now would be brilliant.”
“Okay, let me show you to the room. You can change into the short spa robe.”
She led him through the dining room to the small bedroom she’d converted into a massage space.
The bed was gone—because, let’s be honest, having a bed in your massage room sends the wrong message.
So, she’d hired a couple of guys to haul it to a storage unit for whenever her grandmother and sister returned.
She still mourned the loss of her spot at the chiropractic center, but her wallet had made that decision for her.
Thankfully, her regulars were loyal and didn’t mind coming to her house.
“Just give me a shout when you’re ready.”
Back in the kitchen, she mulled over how Devon’s great-aunt even knew she existed.
Maybe one of her clients had run into the old woman in the UK and casually mentioned, ‘Oh, by the way, there’s a magical massage therapist in the States who works out of her cottage.
’ Because that made sense… sort of. Then again, Devon had clearly mentioned his accident to his great-aunt, so maybe she was the connection.
But how did she have Freya’s number? And why pass it along from across the freaking ocean?
“Ready!” Devon called out.
They chatted casually during the first part of the massage.
They put forth all kinds of theories regarding the mysterious disappearance of Freya’s family, even entertaining the possibility of evil fairies kidnapping her relatives and holding them under a faerie hill somewhere.
They both chuckled at the remoteness of that possibility, but Freya was grateful to talk to someone open-minded enough to entertain all theories.
The police would have laughed her out of the station for even mentioning something like that.
During the second part of the massage, Freya determined where his leg’s serious damage lay and sent charged energy into the area. His remaining muscles jumped like a startled cat.
“Wow!” He exclaimed.
She jerked her hands away from his leg. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just felt a hot stab for a moment. Then it seemed to fizz, and now I feel—”
“Better?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes. Much better!”
“Great.” Freya smiled to herself. Magical healing received.
Once she finished, she left him to get dressed and scribbled down some notes about his reaction.
She’d type them up later and store them in her ever-growing computer file of case studies.
Who knows, maybe one day she’d publish a book on magical healing.
Or at least have enough material to prove she wasn’t just making this up.
When Devon returned to the kitchen, he barely limped anymore.
“I can’t get over it! The pain is gone, and I feel… It’s hard to put into words.”
Freya smiled. “Healthy?”
“Quite,” he agreed. “I feel like I could dance.”
“I’m glad.”
He slipped into the chair opposite her at the kitchen table. “You know, if you would permit me, I’d like to help you try to locate your family. I like to think of myself as a bit of an amateur sleuth.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
“That would be wonderful. I have another client coming soon, but when can you meet me to talk about that?”
“Anytime. I’m staying at the B&B a couple of streets over. The Christmas Inn.”
Ironic, since her grandmother originally owned the big house and would have called it The Yuletide Inn had she rented out rooms. Instead, when her husband died, she sold it to the current owners and moved into this lovely cottage, which required much less upkeep.
Devon agreed on a coffee date the following day, and Freya’s hope rose anew. Not only would she possibly get some leads on her grandmother and sister’s whereabouts, but also, she’d get to see her handsome new British friend again.
Not a bad turn of events.
The coffee date finally arrived, not that Freya had been counting the hours or anything.
Oh, all right, she totally had. She showed up early to chat with Paula, her favorite waitress and the town’s walking, talking, coffee-pouring gossip hub.
If something happened within a ten-mile radius, Paula knew about it.
Devon arrived promptly. When he spotted her at the counter, Freya bid a quick ‘Goodbye’ to Paula, who smiled and raised her eyebrows, suggesting she approved of Freya’s date.
Now, Freya would be added to the gossip chain.
She and her family tried to avoid giving anyone juicy gossip material.
They were already shrouded in mystery and preferred to keep it that way.
However, keeping the disappearance of her family a secret was impossible. As soon as the police were involved, the gossip chain hummed.
Freya sat down in one of the tall booths. After Devon hung his coat on the hook provided, he sat opposite her. The high wooden backs gave the illusion of privacy, even if the large window facing the street did not.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. Oddly enough, she hoped Devon’s leg was slightly less than perfect. She wouldn’t mind running her hands over him again.
“Tip top!” he exclaimed. “I’m ready to go dancing. Come with me?”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t overdo it right away, but I’m glad your leg is getting better.” And she was. The selfish desire to see him for a massage again melted as soon as she saw how happy he was with the initial result.
“Do you like to dance?” he asked conversationally.
“Very much, but unless I’m invited to a wedding, I don’t do anything but whirl around my kitchen.”
“Is there no public place to dance here?”
Freya laughed. “This is a small town. We’re lucky we have a gas pump and convenience store.”
“I see. No cities within driving distance?”
“Oh, sure. But I don’t usually ask that much of our old Volkswagen bus.”
“You drive a bus?”
“More like a van. Sometimes we do deliveries, and often all three of us go on outings together… I mean, we did.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said, sadly.
“Actually, I think I might have already made some progress.”
Freya sat bolt upright. “Really? What have you found out?”
“Well, keep an open mind, all right?”
“It’s wide open.” She grinned, hoping some kind of real breakthrough was coming.
“Okay, here goes. Even in the 21st century, people in England are still seeing and hearing ghosts, so when I got off the phone with my great-aunt Elspeth—who, by the way, has been dead for over a century—the conversation kept going.”
Freya quickly squashed her stunned reaction and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
Just then, Paula came over to take their order. Probably a good thing. Freya needed a moment to process what he was saying. The woman who referred him was a ghost?
After writing down their orders, Paula strode off, and Freya realized she needed some kind of confirmation.
“So, you can call her on the phone, but she answers in your head?”
“Something like that.”
“Could I do that?”
“If you’re a sensitive…”
“If you mean psychic, I’d say I’m semi-sensitive.”
He smiled. “That might be enough.”
“So… May I try?”
He hesitated, and Freya thought for a moment she was being had. Then he pulled his phone out from his coat pocket.
“I don’t know if this is going to work or not, but let’s give it a go.”
Anxious for any information about her family, Freya fidgeted on the bench seat.
Devon tapped his phone a few times. She wished he had been holding it so she could see the screen. How do you list a ghost under contacts?