Cassie returned from refilling coffee cups. “What brings you to our fair town?” she asked. When Finn didn’t reply, she tapped the house special highlighted in a box at the top of the menu. “Try the meatloaf. Best you’ll ever have. Neville makes it after closing so nobody can pilfer the recipe.”
“Cassie, coffee’s free for vets,” the sheriff instructed.
Finn turned questioning eyes to the man.
“Just a hunch.” The sheriff replaced his hat and tipped it to Finn.
“Meatloaf sounds good,” Finn said. He couldn’t have read the menu if he’d wanted to. His vision was blurred, and a lightning bolt of pain flashed in his head.
“Not just good,” Cassie corrected. “Delectable, appetizing, scrumptious.”
When Finn lifted his head, Cassie explained, “Studying for the SATs.”
Finn returned his attention to his coffee. When Cassie left to place his order, Finn looked at the old woman.
“I might be looking for work and a place to stay,” Finn replied.
Cassie overheard and called over her shoulder, “Well, there are plenty of places around here that need fixing up. Lots of older folks need help. Just steer clear of The Gingerbread House—”
“Now, why would she say something like that?” Mrs. Guilford muttered.
“—it’s haunted,” Cassie said without a glance at the old woman, then continued to the end of the counter and disappeared into the kitchen.
“That’s ridiculous,” Philomena Guilford replied. “It needs work. From the look of you, you need work. Seems like a logical next step to me.”
“I’m okay with ghosts,” Finn said. “It’s people I have a problem with.”
Philomena lifted her index finger in the air. “Spoken like a man who needs a project while he does a bit of soul searching.”
Cassie returned and topped off Finn’s coffee while Philomena busied herself looking through her handbag.
“I’ll ask around. I’m sure you’ll have some takers by tomorrow. Just avoid The Gingerbread House,” Cassie repeated in a whisper. “That place is creepy.”
“Just creepy?” Finn smirked. “Not eerie, petrifying?”
“It’s too creepy to think of synonyms.” Cassie gave a deliberate shudder. “Even the high school kids are afraid to go up there. Venable Moss’s ghost haunts the place. His wife, Annabeth, died way back in the eighties. Venable holed up in that house for years, mourning her. I guess when she died, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Whatever the reason, something’s not right with that house.”
When the cook banged the desk bell in the order window, Cassie turned and walked to the end of the counter to fetch the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
“Pish posh,” Philomena said. “Venable Moss loved his wife. After she died, he rarely left the house. He couldn’t accept that she was gone. Damn fool.” She reached for her coin purse to add to the swear jar. “It wasn’t the grief that got him. It was the anger.” She patted the counter next to Finn’s forearm. “You know how it is.” The weight of her words belied the offhand comment. “Something happens, and the darkness moves in like a thick fog.”
Philomena fell silent as Cassie set the plate of steaming food on Finn’s paper placemat.
Finn tucked into his meal. God, this food. Every bite was a symphony in his mouth. Maybe it was the years of thinking of food as fuel, or alcohol and anger had deadened his taste buds, but whatever the reason, this meal was delicious, restorative. He bit into the square of cornbread and nearly groaned.
“Anyway,” Cassie continued, disregarding Philomena’s assessment. “The story goes Venable couldn’t bring himself to be around people, so he just stayed away. Everyone calls it The Gingerbread House ‘cause it looks like something out of a children’s book. Venable built it for Annabeth as a wedding gift. They raised five daughters in that house: Philomena, Maybelle, Willow, Lark, and Clementine. Maybelle lives right next door to the old place.”
“So you’re his daughter,” Finn said.
Cassie looked confused. “Who me? I’m not—”
“Cassie.” At the end of the counter, a man waved some cash, and Cassie skipped down to settle his bill.
“It’s a charming home,” Philomena said.
“Great,” Finn deadpanned. “I’ve been looking for a charming fixer-upper.”
Philomena tsked. “The only thing that haunts that place is grief.”