Cassie returned and continued her ghost story. “They say his apparition floats through the halls calling for Annabeth.” She pinched the white towel on the counter and floated it in front of Finn. “He died last year, was practically just bones by the time they found him. Buried him next to his wife.”
The cook slapped a palm on the counter bell, and Cassie turned to fetch another order.
Philomena scoffed, “Well, now my train of thought has derailed. Oh, yes, Venable. I always got the sense he thought Annabeth was up in those hills, and he didn’t want to be away from her for long. Nothing else mattered to him. He spent three decades surrounded by memories and grief. All kinds of wondrous things happening—grandchildren being born, weddings—he missed it all. He and Annabeth raised a family in that house, years of joy eclipsed. He was so entrenched in his misery, I think he preferred it to happiness. The anger and sadness become so familiar, any joy feels uncomfortable, you know?” Then she restated the question as a declaration. “You know.” She shook her head. “I hope Annabeth gave him an earful when he got to the Pearly Gates. What a waste.”
Finn set down his fork. “What do you want me to do?”
“What you’d imagine. The place needs tending. Garden’s overgrown. Painting projects. Shutters, roof. I’m sure it’s a mess inside. You can stay as long as you like if you agree to clean it up, do the maintenance.”
Finn turned his attention to Philomena. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay.”
“That’s all right. As long as you work while you’re here.” Philomena stood and walked around Finn toward the exit. “I grew up in that house. It used to be a very happy place. Now it’s a dark, sad mess.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She turned to go, then paused. “Oh, and one other thing.”
Finn’s imperious glare would have cowed a drug kingpin, but Philomena simply continued. “Twice a week, you go down and help my sister, Maybelle. Her cottage is at the foot of the hill.”
“Help her how?”
“Odd jobs mostly, I’d guess. She lives at the base of the mountain. You’ll pass her place on the drive over.” Philomena stood and hooked her handbag over her forearm. “She’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet, but she’s dainty. And she can’t ask for help to save her life.”
Finn looked to Cassie, who had returned to her perch across from him. “Pie?” he asked.
She grabbed the coffee pot to refill his cup. “Apple, blueberry, and chocolate chess.”
“That was my favorite when I was a kid,” Finn commented absently.
“Chocolate chess?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah.”
“Want a slice?”
“I’ll try the apple,” Finn said.
Cassie lifted the glass off the pie stand on the counter and cut a slice, scooping runaway apples onto a clean plate beside a lattice-topped piece. She turned away to grab the whipped cream from the fridge behind her.
Finn forked a bite of pie and looked at Cassie.
“That old lady have all her marbles?” Finn asked.
“Which one?” Cassie laughed, looking at a table of older women eating and gossiping.
Finn looked to his right, but the stool was empty. The little bell above the door jingled as a mother and child entered.
“I guess I’m staying for a while,” he said.
Cassie plunked a dollop of fresh whipped cream on top of Finn’s dessert and, with a bright smile, said, “Welcome to Purgatory.”