The Greeting Committee

Rob and Virginia walk through the wall into the old lobby, with little Annie trailing behind. No one notices them – not the porters, nor the desk clerk, nor any of the hotel patrons passing through. Not even the two children playing on their phones while they wait for their parents to finish checking in. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Virginia looks around wistfully. Her midriff is bare between the rope belt of her baggie white clam diggers and the patchwork-patterned shirt with its tails tied. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and the only makeup she seems to sport is bright red lipstick.

“I heard that new manager saying they might do away with this entire building, if they get that preservation grant.”

“They won’t, Virginia,” says Rob. He’s a clean-shaven man in formal dinner attire as worn at the turn of the century – the turn that went into the twentieth, that is. His posture is erect and his manner as formal as his clothing. “They may stop using it for a hotel, but it’s a preservation grant, to preserve the history.”

“Good,” declares Annie, a pre-pubescent girl with slip-on sneakers, cutoffs, and a T-shirt with a picture of the old Stormcove on it. “I don’t like it at The Suites.”

“Of course not, Dear, not with that man there, even if he is contained.” Virginia shivers.

Annie shrugs and drifts over to the living children. Rob and Virginia are unperturbed when a bellhop rolls a luggage cart through her. Annie doesn’t seem to notice at all.

“I never would have advertised the Stormcove on undergarments – and people wear them without a proper shirt as cover!” Rob hadn’t been in charge of the hotel for more than a century. A chicken bone finished him off at the New Year’s Eve banquet, 1900, when he stepped outside to gag in private rather than disturb the guests.

Virginia looks around the lobby. “We were late. You don’t suppose they wandered off?”

“No. There are four of them, Virginia, swept off the rocks by a rogue wave early this morning.” Rob scolds her impatience with his most formal tone. “You know how long Intake takes these days.”

“Lucky for us the others survived.” She looks at the still-empty doorway. “I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to stay, Rob. He should have been here by now. It may be time for me to start a new life.”

Rob sighs. “You’ve been a good friend and I will miss you, but you need to do whatever is best for you.”

Annie is still by the children, trying to get them to become aware of her presence. She blows on the boy’s ear and he doesn’t notice. She blows again, hard enough to move his hair and he absently brushes at it, as if at a fly, never taking his eyes off the game he is playing on his phone. She tries similar ploys with the girl and finally gives up. She returns to Rob and Virginia.

“I couldn’t get them to sense me, not one little bit!” she complains. “I hate those things they play with all the time. My dad didn’t like how much time I spent watching television, but at least I didn’t carry one around with me, if that’s what they are.”

Before either adult can respond, two of the new residents enter the hotel, through the open doorway, awkward and uncertain of their new form – a man with silvered temples holding the elbow of a distracted young woman whose bearing and grace assert her elevated class.

Virginia leads the way to them and takes the woman’s hand. “I’m Virginia and this is Rob and Annie. We’re the Greeting Committee. Welcome.”

The older man stiffens. “They’ve put us in the old building?”

“This is where we greet people,” says Rob. “You’re welcome in both buildings, though most choose one or the other as their primary location for the duration of their stay.”

“Oh!” the young woman yelps as a new family walks through them on their way to the hotel desk. Her eyes are wide. “Is that what he was talking about?”

“Who, Dear?” asks Virginia. “Your intake worker?”

“Yes. I didn’t understand anything he said.” The young woman composes herself with a breath. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been rude. I’m Sarah Van Kirk. It wasn’t his fault, I wasn’t expecting to die today and I’m still a bit stunned.”

“That may be, but that idiot didn’t make any sense at all.” The older man holds his hand out to Rob. “George Hastings.”

Rob shakes his hand, “Rob Wilson. Who was your intake worker?”

George looks at his hand, puzzled by the ambiguous nature of the contact. “That will take some getting used to…” He shrugs it off. “It was Jeremy something.”

“Oh.” Virginia shakes her head. “No wonder.”

“We’ve reported other complaints,” says Rob. “It hasn’t done any good.”

“It’s really simple,” explains Annie. “You come here first, to get used to not being alive anymore. You know, like people don’t see you and can walk through you without it hurting, and you can walk through walls, that sort of thing. And how touch doesn’t feel the same.”

“There’s no heaven or hell, then?” demands George.

“Oh, yes, definitely, both,” says Virginia. “Those bound for hell go straight to it, or their personal version of it.”

“What about us?” asks Sarah.

Virginia continues the explanation. “Some move on as soon as they come to terms with their change of state – either to another life or their vision of heaven. Some choose to stay where they are, where they passed.”

“Why on earth would anyone do that!” huffs George.

With the utmost dignity, Rob explains, “I worked at the Stormcove from the time I was a boy and was manager for two decades. There’s nowhere I would rather be. Virginia, well, this may be her heaven.”

“I’m not quite sure yet,” interjects Virginia with a sad smile.

“I sure don’t want to have a return life!” declares Annie. “My last one was rotten, and look at them!” She waves at the children still sitting absorbed by their screens. “They don’t have any real life, just their private fantasies. I’d rather stay here, like this.”

Rob nods and sighs. “It used to be that children were usually sensitive to us.”

A loud crash of thunder doesn’t stir the living children at all.

At that moment, another new resident arrives. He looks like a young beach bum with his scruffy hair and plastic sandals. “Hi,” he says.

“I’ve seen you before!” says Annie. “You’re one of the free guests.”

“Yup. I’ve been living here for several months,” he says with a charming smile. “It’s okay for me to mingle now?”

As Rob nods assent, George barks “What?” and curls his lip as he takes in the young man’s cutoffs and ragged Stormcove Tee.

Holding himself formally erect, Rob informs the older man, “Stormcove has always offered free lodging to select needy people.”

“I worked for every penny that makes it possible for me to stay in places like this, and I don’t appreciate knowing tramps are given the same for free!”

“I’m not a tramp.” The young man lifts his chin. “I’m James Galt, writer.”

Sarah introduces herself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Galt. The Van Kirks have always been patrons of the arts. You’ll have to forgive Mr. Hastings. His ignorance comes from being nouveau riche.” She shoots a withering glance at Hastings, then returns her gracious gaze to James. “What have you been working on during your stay here?”

“I’ve been researching and writing a creative non-fiction book, about a young girl who died here on July 4, 1970.”

“That’s me!” cries Annie. “Annie Smythe!”

“You’re Annie?” James bounds up to her and takes her hands. The lack of substance in the contact doesn’t dampen his excitement. “I should have recognized you! Your sister gave me photos when she asked me to find out the truth. She never believed it was a simple drowning.”

“She knew! We went for a walk when we got here and she saw how frightened I was by the waves. I wouldn’t climb on the rocks with her. She knew I’d never have gone near the water by myself. But no one listened to her. She was only seven.”

“And you were ten.” James squeezes her hands gently. “We were right, then? It was murder?”

The others are drawn in, listening to this conversation – even George, though he leans back as if to deny the pull of interest.

“Yes,” says Annie. “He tossed my body off the dock, long after everyone was asleep.”

“Mary suspected a man who had asked to take your photograph earlier.”

“Yes, yes! She was right!”

“I was hitting a wall, trying to discover who that might have been. There was no professional photographer here at the time. Then there were two other girls who drowned late at night, both about ten years old, but the deaths were a few years apart. We were suspicious, but there was no way to link one man to all of them.”

“Oh, it was him. And there were more than that. But his last victim got away. The other girls and I had managed to make her uneasy enough, she was more alert than we’d been.” Annie pauses for effect. “The girl ran and told her father. He took care of it personally.”

“Good!” cries James. “I was afraid the killer had moved on and continued.”

“The only bad part is, that man has been here ever since, but he’s kept contained, over in the Suites.” Annie sighs. “I usually don’t go over there, but if you’d like, I’ll show you where he is. I won’t be afraid with you.”

“We still have another resident coming,” Virginia reminds her.

“It could be a while,” says James. “He’s eighty-four. He was stuck up on the rock wall – that’s where I met him. He told me he should have known better at his age. I was helping him down when that wave came and washed us both out to sea. He’s still pretty shaken up and moving slow. We’d have time to go over to the new building and get back before he gets here.”

“Be that as it may, we’ll all wait,” says Rob. “That’s how it’s done.”

“And there’s no hurry to see that man,” adds Virginia. “He’s part of the lobby wall. Literally.”

Sara looks confused. “Shouldn’t he have gone to hell?”

“That is his hell,” explains Rob. “He sees children come through every day and cannot make any movement toward them at all. And several of his victims from other places found their way here and tormented him before they moved on. It was part of their process.”

“So he’s here forever?” asks James. “Isn’t that torturous for Annie? That’s not fair.”

“He’s stuck in the wall until I move on, then he’d go to the fire and brimstone hell,” says Annie. “But I’d rather stay here.”

James and Sarah look at Virginia with doubt in their faces.

Virginia shrugs. “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You’ve been here longer than me,” Annie tells her.

“But I had a long life before that,” says Virginia. “There are so many things you never experienced.”

“Virginia looks younger than me, Annie. Trust me, you would like growing up,” says Sarah.

Annie giggles. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Sarah asks, looking at Virginia. “What were you when you passed? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“Seventy,” smiles Virginia. “This is my heaven, where I spent the best summer of my life. I passed in a hospice in Tucson thirteen years ago.”

“And you went back to the age you were that summer?” Silver-haired George is enthused by this revelation. “I can go back to my younger self?”

Virginia smiles broadly. “Yes, if that’s what you decide to do.”

“Why can’t I just be younger now?” George demands.

“You’re still in transition,” explains Rob. “You have to choose your heaven first, then once you’re there, the change will come. You’ll go back to your best age in that place. I’ve seen it happen a few times. This was a happy place for many people, not just Virginia.”

Virginia’s smile fades. Her eyes are sad. “But choose wisely. The place will have changed and you may not find the people you wanted to see. And you only get to choose your heaven once. I’ve been thinking of returning for a new life, myself.”

A brilliant flash of light fills the lobby, followed by thunder that shakes the building. The skies open and rain pours down as the last new resident totters in. His eyes meet Virginia’s and he smiles. As he crosses the room toward them, his step springs, his body straightens, and his face smooths to its youthful state. He stops in front of Virginia, then they embrace, both tearful.

Sarah is first to break her gaze from the reunited couple. “Shall we move on then?”

Rob turns to Sarah and nods stiffly. “Yes.” He turns to the others. “Come along, let’s give them some privacy.”

They head to the other building, leaving Virginia and her long-lost love alone together, oblivious to the people coming and going around and through them.

“I was afraid you would never come,” says Virginia. “Or that you’d gotten here first and given up on me, like you did before.”

“Leaving you here was the worst mistake of my life,” he answers. “I came back and you’d left, and I didn’t know how to find you. I want to stay with you here forever.”

Virginia smiles.

Annie looks back at them, then up at Sarah. “Maybe it would be nice to have a life where I grow up. . .” 

© Sheri McGuinn

Audio version at

https://sherimcguinn.substack.com/p/rainn-day-speculative-fiction-review

Death & Evil in Ponderosa Pines

Karen was the last to leave. She pulled on her fleece-lined jacket, hat, and gloves. As she said goodbye, she yawned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over until morning?” Mary offered.

“I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“It may be April, but you could still run into snow up on the rez.”

“There was a little on my way over this afternoon, but the sun was melting it off as it landed.”

The road passed through the edge of the Apache reservation. For thirty-some miles there would be no house in sight, just high plains on either side, broken by stretches of Ponderosa Pine and Aspen groves. In the summer, driving across it in a thunderstorm was humbling and exalting at the same time. Tonight it would be dark and peaceful; a good ending to a full day.

Mary was skeptical. “Well, watch for elk; they’re always on that stretch.”

“I will. I haven’t hit an animal in thirty years.” Karen gave her friend a hug. “I’ll see you next weekend.”

Mary watched her walk to her car. “Call me when you get home.”

“No, I won’t. It’s an hour drive and you’ll be asleep by then.”

Karen started her car. As she drove out of town, the bank’s marquee flashed the time and temperature – twelve o’clock, twenty-seven degrees. She had to turn down the heater, though. The car might be old, but everything worked except the air conditioning, which she didn’t really need living up here in the mountains.

She continuously scanned ahead to the edges of her headlights’ beams. It was habit, ever since she’d killed two deer six months apart, long ago, before she moved to Arizona. Elk were much larger than deer, and harder to see from her little car because when they were close, their eyes were above the range of her headlights, and their dark coats blended in with the night shades of shoulder and roadside brush.

She spotted a group of large dark shadows off to the left and automatically slowed in case one should suddenly decide to cross the road. They were far enough away that her headlights flashed off a pair of eyes; the other animals continued feeding. She decided to stay well below the speed limit, to be on the safe side.

She passed only one car, going the other direction. There would be no sign of civilization until she reached McNary, a little town on the reservation. While her eyes continued watching for elk as she drove, Karen slipped into a meditative sense of peace. Clouds blocked whatever light the sky might have offered as she drove the deserted miles on top of the world, but she knew when the road dipped she was moving from the vast open fields into a stretch of forest.

Suddenly, anxiety hit, jerking her out of her reverie.

There was no good reason for it. She turned off the radio; maybe the car was making a noise that disturbed her subconsciously. But the car was okay, knocking a little, but that was normal at this altitude.

A cold shawl of prickles dragged up and across her shoulders and her breathing became so shallow she was almost holding it. She forced herself to inhale deeply. She lived alone; she didn’t jump at shadows. She tried to chide away the unwelcome sensation of fear.

But the chill was palpable inside her winter jacket. She cranked up the heat and still felt icy. Goosebumps were lifting her shirt off her arms.

She hadn’t checked the back seat when she got into the car; hadn’t done that since she moved up here out of the city. She resisted the urge to look back or even in the mirror, as if not knowing would make it not real. And if she didn’t see anything, she still wouldn’t be sure.

The pines rose high on either side of the road.

Suddenly, something dark poured into her and constricted her breath. A triangle of lights off to the right came and went so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d really seen it. Silently she recited the 23rd Psalm, as well as she could remember it.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside still waters, He restoreth my soul.” There was something else she wasn’t remembering, then “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.”

Death and evil, that’s what she felt pouring at her from the Ponderosa Pines. It wasn’t someone in the car. It was something out there. She drove a little faster, but not so fast she wouldn’t be able to stop for an elk. She definitely didn’t want to have an accident here, not tonight.

At last she saw the sign announcing the edge of McNary. The feeling eased away from her as she drove through the little town. She passed someone walking along the other side of the road in dark clothes. She was almost home.

By the time she got to her cabin, she no longer felt the presence of evil, in fact she felt a little silly about it. She fixed herself some warm milk. Once it was gone, she was barely awake enough to slip under the covers of her bed.

Karen’s life went on. She forgot all about that unpleasant feeling and there was nothing to remind her. The Apache girl’s disappearance never made the newspaper Karen read.

The first assumption was that the teen had taken off with her boyfriend, but then he came back from visiting relatives out of state and asked for her. He’d been in Oregon when she last left her mother’s house, and he could prove it. In Karen’s world this was still not newsworthy.

It was fall when a hiker’s dog happened upon the girl’s shallow grave – not far from the road, where the Ponderosa Pines stand guard.

Audio version at sherimcguinn.substack.com

Copyright Sheri McGuinn

The Spectre - a spooky romantic story

She was running through an abandoned building, a maze of walls sending her first one way, then another. Someone or some thing was running along with her, just out of sight. As they neared the end, daylight poured through the missing wall of the building under construction. She slid to a stop inches short of the edge and realized the specter was right there, in the corner of her vision. As she turned to look at it directly, a tinny version of Happy Birthday pulled her mind away. She reached with eyes shut, poked at the cell phone to silence the alarm, and rolled over, trying to recapture the spooky dream she’d had for the last three nights.

The alarm renewed its efforts to get her up and going. Janie rolled onto her back, opened her eyes to the morning light, and sighed. That lousy music was the only birthday greeting she was likely to get. She had planned it as a present to herself. Now she realized it was a stupid idea; she should have tried to forget it was her birthday. The alarm just made her start the day keenly aware that there was no one who cared about her, no one in the entire world.

She grabbed the phone and turned off the alarm. It was already half past six. Enough self-pity; it was time to get ready for work. She pulled up the covers and carefully slid out to stand. Grabbing the comforter off the floor, she quickly fanned it out to cover the bed and tossed the pillows on top. Foster Mother Number Three had always insisted the bed be made on rising and the dishes done as soon as a meal was over. The rest of the house could be a wreck, but if those two rituals were followed, it looked like you were taking care of things.

Appearances, that’s what counted with most people, especially Jeremy’s mother. If she started thinking back to that, she’d have trouble making it through the day. Jeremy’s mother would never believe the landlord was the only one who had ever seen her cottage, or that there’d been no reason for him to look at the bedroom.

Janie loved the place. She could hear and smell the ocean when her window was open and the breeze blew in from the sea. Her plan had been to sleep in her car until she got a job, but here on the west coast even the temp agencies wouldn’t take her without a local address. The bungalow had felt like home on first sight. So she’d chanced her savings to rent the little house. The next day she signed up with two temp agencies and got a graveyard shift at the Denny’s down the road. She was smart, reliable, and always did more than she was asked to do, so soon she was working day and night.

After several months, the references she built landed her the second administrative assistant position at a small law firm. Number One didn’t like her much. Maybe she wouldn’t have liked sharing her duties with anyone, but every time one of the lawyers was pleasant to Janie, Number One stared at her as if she had a disease. The woman was probably sure Janie had slept her way into the job, but she hadn’t. Foster Family Number Six had taught her the perils of having sex with anyone who had power over you of any kind. She would always leave a job rather than go that route, no matter what she lost in the process.

She still worked the graveyard at Denny’s on Saturday nights, and if someone called in at the last minute, she’d help out during the week. In the year she’d been there, they’d gone through three night managers. The fourth had only been there a week and already was looking for other work diligently. It was too hard to maintain a relationship or a life of any kind, working in the middle of the night. Janie watched movies and slept every Sunday, so she’d be ready for her day job. She’d gotten into the habit of going to bed by eight, too, so she’d get a few hours of sleep first if they called without notice for her to fill in on a weeknight. Then she’d go home long enough to clean up and change, work at the office all day, and go straight to bed as soon as she got home to make up for the sleep she’d missed.

No wonder she didn’t have a life outside of work.

But it was better than being in love with someone who’d let you down. She’d made that mistake once. Never again; she’d rather be alone the rest of her life. Besides, her savings account was growing so fast, when she got her week off, she’d be able to fly to Hawaii and not worry about the costs. If she could just make herself do it, she could have a vacation fling where no one got hurt. Maybe then she could forget Jeremy.

As soon as she landed this job, she’d gotten rid of her car, which also got rid of insurance, gas, maintenance, and repairs. If she wanted to drive out of town, she could rent a car cheaper than owning one she rarely used. Public transit worked fine for both jobs—except this morning. She’d have been late in a car, too, if she’d gotten caught in the same traffic jam, but she’d also missed the bus she usually took to get to work early. Number One didn’t say anything when Janie rushed in twenty minutes late, but her disgusted look made it clear that she assumed there’d been a wild night.

“Traffic jam,” Janie said without making eye contact.

She felt guilty about missing the early bus. She put away her purse and got right to work. She pretended Number One’s disbelieving huff wasn’t directed at her. If she kept focusing on business and doing more than her share, hopefully the woman would eventually come around and be nicer.

The morning went quickly. There was always plenty to do, and that suited Janie. It gave her less time to think about her birthday and the lack of anyone in her life. She couldn’t even get a cat; her lease did not allow pets of any kind.

Then, just before lunch, the florist arrived with a dozen red roses. He asked for Janie.

“That’s me, but who sent them?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. There’s no card, just your name and the address.”

He handed her the bouquet and made a hasty exit. Janie put it down on her desk and stared at the flowers as if they might attack. Number One broke the silence by opening a desk drawer and pulling out a vase. She carried it out of the office without a word. Janie leaned back away from the roses, her breath shallow. Who could have sent them? She’d been so careful not to give any of the attorneys reason to think she even noticed them as people. Was she going to have to start all over again? Would she need to move away? She didn’t have a car. She couldn’t load up and go so easily; she didn’t want to leave her home. But at least she wouldn’t have anyone she cared about to leave behind this time… And maybe she wouldn’t have to move—this wasn’t a small town. Maybe she could find another job and keep her little home. Or maybe it was just a birthday gift. They had her birth date for payroll. Maybe Number One would get flowers on her birthday, too.

The woman returned with the vase half full of water. Janie still sat back, staring at the flowers, trying to figure out who had sent them and what it meant.

“They’ll die sooner if you don’t get them right into water,” said Number One. She picked up Janie’s scissors and began cutting each stem diagonally before putting it into the vase. She took her time; it was obvious she loved flowers. “I never get roses on my birthday,” she complained after the third one went into water.

“You knew it was my birthday?” Janie asked.

Number One peered over her glasses. “Of course; it was on your application.”

“Do you know who sent the roses?”

“No. You don’t?” Number One paused with the fifth rose held above the vase.

Janie shook her head. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room, or she couldn’t pull it into her lungs.

“You’re not seeing anyone?” Number One asked.

“No, no one. I don’t know anyone here.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not out half the night sometimes.”

“Waitressing, I still fill in sometimes if they need someone at Denny’s. I was working there before I started here.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have a rule against moonlighting, but you don’t function as well on those days.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking of telling them I can’t do it anymore, but it’s hard.”

“Why?”

This was the longest conversation Janie had ever had with Number One, and she really didn’t want to get into it. The woman went back to cutting stems and placing the roses into the vase, and then arranged them artistically when she was done.  

“You don’t think you’re paid enough here?” Number One demanded as she threw away the wrapping and bits of stem.

“I’m trying to build up my savings. They were pretty much exhausted when I started here. I like the security of having money in the bank.”

“So you really are coming in half asleep because you’re working at a restaurant?”

Janie looked directly at Number One and nodded. “I have no life outside of work. So who would have sent me these flowers?”

“Maybe your old boss sent them, the one from that little town in Kansas.”

Janie’s stomach knotted tighter than it already had been. “How did you know about that? How did you know I worked in Kansas?” She hadn’t put anything on her application prior to her work with the temp agencies here. She’d let them assume she’d been in school before that.

“You signed permission for a background check. Did you think I’d stop with all those references less than a year old?”

Janie blanched. “You called my employer back there?”

“Of course. This is a small office. Who else would make the calls?”

The flowers couldn’t be from him. Could they? “Did you tell them you were hiring me?”

“I couldn’t convince Mr. Adams he should rescind the offer he’d already made, even though you’d been duplicitous on the application.”

“But you told them I’d be working here?” Janie asked.

“I suppose they could have made that assumption.”

“Why did you think that boss would send me flowers?”

Number One ignored the question and went back to her desk. “You can take the first lunch break, but reduce it by those twenty minutes you were late,” she said.

“What did they tell you?” Janie demanded. When she got no response, she continued, “They’re not supposed to tell you anything except whether or not I worked there and whether they’d rehire me.”

“Well, they certainly wouldn’t rehire you,” said Number One. “And since you hadn’t put them down as an employer, the woman I spoke with felt free to say more than she would have otherwise.”

“What did she tell you?”

Number One spat out the answer. “That you were fired for sexually inappropriate advances you made toward your supervisor.”

“None of that was true. I quit.”

“Really?”

It was clear Number One didn’t believe her. No wonder the woman had been so cold. How would she ever be able to leave those lies and all the pain they’d caused behind when this could happen? She’d lost everything, and had worked so hard to build a new life and it was never going to work out right.

Janie let out the breath she’d been holding and the tears she’d contained for months poured freely. She pulled out a shopping bag she’d stuffed into her bottom drawer and began putting her personal items into it. “I didn’t make any advances. I threatened to sue him for harassment and he turned the story around before I could tell anyone what he’d tried to do.” The last of her things in the bag, Janie stood up. Number One started to speak, but Janie interrupted her. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pass on those lies to anyone else. You can keep the roses.”

“Stop, you stop right there.” Number One’s tone was commanding. Janie stopped and watched as the woman came around her desk.

“I owe you an apology,” said Number One. “I thought you were putting on a show for me when you always dodged compliments, especially since Mr. Adams insisted on hiring someone who had lied on their application. That’s not normal for him, so I thought—well, I thought wrong. He was probably too impressed with your recommendations here to believe that nonsense without giving you a chance. I should have been as smart. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Everyone else believed him. Even Jeremy, my fiancé, had doubts.”

“You poor thing—no wonder you work so much; it keeps you busy.”

“I guess that is part of it,” admitted Janie as she allowed herself to be led back to her seat. “It was his mother, really. She never thought I was good enough for him. All those rumors gave her the reason she needed to insist he break it off.”

“Don’t leave. You’re the best person we’ve ever found for this job.”

Janie smiled up at Number One, struggling to remember her first name and not finding it. “Thank you, Mrs. Henry.” That’s how Number One answered the phone.

“Please, call me Liz. We’re not a large enough operation for that kind of formality,” Number One replied. “Well, these roses are beautiful, whoever sent them. It wasn’t your old boss, not unless he was trying to cause trouble for you here.”

“No,” said Janie. “It wasn’t him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sender of roses as he walked into the office. She didn’t need to turn her head to know it was Jeremy.

Audio for The Spectre, a spooky romantic story, is available at

https://sherimcguinn.substack.com/p/garbage-in-garbage-out-metaphysical

©Sheri McGuinn