She flung a cup at him. Fortunately, it was plastic and bounced off his shoulder. But the suds landed in his coffee, and he scowled.
“Money does not make the world better.Her parents aredead, not making anything better. The Posts never did anything with their talents except accumulate wealth that’s now hanging around Loretta’s neck like an albatross. Had they made money and put it back into the community,thenthey might have made the world better, and Loretta could be a normal kid without a pack of jackals on her heels. One only needs enough money for shelter and food, after that, it’s a burden.”
She pulled the plug on the sink drain and asked, “Who inherits Loretta’s money? If you don’t believe in ghosts, then you might consider someone really might be trying to kill her.”
When he couldn’t immediately reply, she cast him a look of disgust and stalked out.
Jax dumped his soapy coffee into the sink and rinsed out the suds. He doubted that Loretta had a will. Chances were good, her fortune would simply be divided among remaining family.
Remaining family—Evie’s family as well as the Boston ones?
Twelve
“Will Mr. Jackson let me stay?”Loretta asked worriedly when Evie stormed up the stairs to her room.
“We will sue the pants off Mr. Jackson if he doesn’t let you stay,” she said reassuringly. “Your money, your choice. But what I want to do is take you out to the land your parents might have been selling. Maybe you’ll see something there that I don’t.”
If her parents had died in Afterthought, would the sad ghosts clinging to Loretta slip away if she came close to any earthly remains? Evie could only guess. Ghosts that haunted people were rare, but then, so was Loretta. She wondered if John Post had a Malcolm gift that allowed him to cling to his family, one he’d suppressed all his life.
“You think maybe they’re hiding at the pond?” Loretta asked eagerly, flinging aside her textbook.
“Were they the type to go camping?” Evie was pretty certain they weren’t, but she waited while Loretta tugged on sturdy shoes.
“Maybe when they were my age?” Loretta bounced up and raced for the stairs.
Well, sure, why not? Everyone was young once.
“What are your parents like?” Maybe talking about them would increase the connection so they’d speak. It wasn’t as if Evie had much experience talking to the newly dead. The ghosts around here were usually decades old, if not more.
Loretta shrugged as she opened the front door. “I don’t see them a whole lot, just at holidays. They want me to be a doctor or lawyer, so they gave me doctor bags and computer word games and stuff.”
“Parents always want the best for their children,” Evie said encouragingly. “Given your abilities, I think you’d be great working at the UN. Do your parents know about your bubbles?” She led the way down the street in the direction of the pond. It was probably a half-mile walk. They should have bikes, but she only owned one and the tires were busted.
Loretta shrugged again. “I tried to tell them, but their bubbles are small. They don’t understand. I’ve learned not to tell anyone unless they have big bubbles.”
“Hmmm, I wonder if big bubbles might not indicate old souls, ones who’ve been around and understand more.” She explained the concept of old souls as they practically raced down the road. Loretta was in a hurry.
When they reached the pond and woodland, Loretta wrinkled up her nose. “This is it? There isn’t anything here.”
“Not unless you know how to look.” Evie led her down a well-worn path into the oaks. “I’m not an herbalist like my mother, but every plant you see in here has a purpose. See that scraggly bush? In the fall, it will produce a berry that’s good for heart ailments. And those sticks? Those will produce the prettiest purple berries in the fall that are good as chemical antifungal agents and better than the drugstore spray for mosquitoes and ticks.”
“But you can just go to the store and buy bug spray!” She stomped down the path, eagerly checking behind every bush, as if her parents might have turned into fairies that could hide in shrubbery.
Evie studied the frail ghosts clinging to her. She was pretty certain there were two, but only one seemed to strengthen as they trudged along. “The things in the store have a lot of chemicals in them that might be harmful, if you’re sensitive. If they work for you, fine, but if they don’t, we have the alternatives here.”
“But my parents want to sell this land? Are you sure? Who would buy it?”
Excellent question. “Well, the thing is, I’m not sure this land can be sold.” She knew that was partially her wishful thinking, but she picked up on things not said. Her family had little interest in material things. Land was where plants grew—not real estate to be sold. “But you’d have to talk to my mother and aunts about that. It’s always been in the family. Here, I’ll show you.” She lifted a tree branch laden with vines and revealed a faint path to the western edge, away from the pond.
The ghost on Loretta’s shoulder didn’t want to go this way. He detached and tried to push back the way they came.
“Sorry, Mr. Post. We’ll go that way in a second. Just let me show Loretta her ancestors.” Evie paused for the ghost to understand she was talking to him.
Loretta shot her a look. “Are you talking to my dad?”
“I think so.” Loretta had to learn sometime, but it would be hard without actual bodies. “First, look over by that wall.” Evie distracted the child from more questions.
Ancient, lichen-covered rocks formed a low wall concealed by high weeds. It wasn’t that Malcolms didn’t honor their dead, so much as protect them. Anyone walking through here wouldn’t look twice. Evie stepped over the rocks and pushed aside a huge patch of violets to reveal another low, flat stone.