Ghost Of A Chance Read online

  “What can you do?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You possess powers you could only imagine. What have you discovered?”

  Nathan eyed him. Whatever Cole Turner was, he was used to getting his way with others. He wouldn’t leave until Nathan gave him what he wanted. He looked at the far wall and effortlessly walked through it.

  Cole was waiting for him at the other side. “Is that all?”

  “I went home to White Creek,” he said, then added, “Without having to walk.”

  “Have you vaporized?”

  Nathan watched as Cole slowly faded into thin air then reappeared. “How is that done?”

  “How did you transport yourself?”

  “I thought about it.”

  “All conscious thought, my friend.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Think about it. You went home because you wished you could. Think about becoming invisible.”

  Nathan thought. He half expected to feel pain. Instead, he felt nothing. The only way he knew he’d faded successfully was because when he looked down at his hands, they weren’t there.

  * * *

  Sarah was right in the middle of inventory when the last two people she expected to see came through her front door.

  She jumped down from the ladder where she was counting copies of the latest Harry Potter series. “Mom! Stan! What are you doing here?”

  Diane Green dumped two hulking suitcases down on each side of her. As always, she was impeccably dressed in tan slacks and matching business jacket. Right out of a Marie Claire magazine even if she had nowhere else to go but the supermarket.

  Pennyworth waddled in beside her on a lease that read, “I love my Lhasa Apso.” The thirty-two pound dog was dressed in a leopard print dog sweater, part of Mom’s inventory from her shop The Right Gift which she’d owned since before Sarah was born.

  Pennyworth greeted Sarah with her wagging curly-Q tail.

  “Hi, Penny!” Sarah scratched the dog’s back. “How are you?”

  “Careful, she has a skin infection again.”

  Pennyworth always had skin infections and ear infections and eye infections. She’d had two knee replacement surgeries in two consecutive years, mainly because she was supposed to be under twenty-five pounds. The dog was worth more in surgeries than the food it took to maintain her weight.

  Sarah turned to Uncle Stan, Mom’s brother, and hugged him. “I missed you.”

  “I got a new shirt.”

  Sarah held him at arm’s length. Stan would be fifty-six years old this September, and he still couldn’t make proper change, drive a vehicle, order a pizza on his own, or do anything a normal man would do, but she didn’t know a soul who would mail their teddy bear to her with his own allowance after she told him how lonely she was.

  She straightened his glasses for him. “You look so handsome.”

  “I know.”

  She hugged her mother. “You came for a visit?”

  “I came to help.” Her mother released her. “We’re here as long as you need us.”

  Sarah didn’t understand. Mom had flatly refused visit when she’d first purchased The Bookworm. She’d been so adamant about coming that Sarah had never even considered inviting her for the grand opening.

  “What about your shop, Mom?”

  “I left Debbie in charge.” She dismissed her with a wave of her freshly manicured hand. Debbie Crandall had been Mom’s assistant for as long as Sarah could remember. Debbie was perfectly capable of running the place, but Mom had never allowed her to before. That was what concerned Sarah.

  Mom adjusted her glasses. They were for reading, but she wore them all the time, looking over them as if she were a teacher about to lecture her students. “When I heard about Art, I went right over there.”

  “What about Art?”

  “That he’s after the ring. And it will be over my dead body before you give it to him.”

  Sarah mentally pictured the ring at the bottom of Lake George. “How do you know about the ring?”

  “Rita told me.”

  Of course. Rita was Mom’s cousin who did her highlights every third Saturday of the month. If anyone knew about anything it was Rita.

  Sarah wanted to tell Mom that she could handle matters with her ex on her own, but when she glanced toward the cappuccino counter, she saw Therman and Claudia staring at them with intense interest.

  “Oh, Mom. Stan. I’d like you to meet some friends. This is Claudia. She works for me now.”

  Mom’s expression was horrified. “What’s in your lip?”

  “It’s a spacer,” Claudia answered.

  “A what?”

  “Spa-cer,” she raised her voice.

  “She wants to look like a Figi islander,” Therman piped up.

  “Mom, this is Therman,” Sarah introduced. “You two should have a lot in common.”

  “Why?” Mom stared over the top of her spectacles.

  “Well…I don’t know. You both like the arts. Mom owns a gift shop,” Sarah told Therman.

  Unimpressed, Therman went back to his newspaper.

  “He’s your only customer?” Mom turned her back to him.

  “It’s early.”

  “It’s past noon. Look at your inventory. This is—” She did a mental calculation. “Well over ten thousand dollars. One customer buying a five dollar cappuccino and a fifty cent paper—”

  “It was a dollar fifty, thank you very much,” Therman mumbled under his breath.

  “And how much are you paying her?” Mom pointed to Claudia.

  Sarah felt her nerves thin. She hated that part about her mother, how she wielded the power to make her feel so lost and out of control. It was an endless cycle. The irritation, then the guilt, then the regret that as much as she wanted to rectify Sarah never quite could. Which caused a whole new batch of annoyance to continue the cycle.

  Sarah took a deep breath. She flashed her mother a forced smile. “Why don’t we take your things upstairs and get you settled?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You can’t smoke in here, buddy.”

  Cole Turner glared at the woman behind the bar.

  Insignificant bitch. Well over forty, her Aerosmith tee shirt exposed a stomach that had carried three boys, now in their late teens, no longer in need of her, and she bore the stretch marks to prove it. Her face was a mask of annoyance. Guilt over her one nighter was eating her alive. She’d vowed never to sleep with the customers, not after the last one had put her in the hospital. This guy had been half her age and had made her feel young, alive. Of course, he’d vanished before morning, and she’d never known his last name. Worse, the condom had broke. She wondered how she would ever explain another kid to her boys or her ex. She hoped to Christ the guy was disease free.

  Cole crushed his cigarette out on the bar then downed the rest of his Jack and Coke in one swallow. At least he could read mortals’ thoughts again. He wasn’t sure why the gift had been restored. He suspected it had to do with the success of the spell, although at the time, it had seemed too easy. The spell had been a last minute act of desperation. A simple incantation of determination and ancient knowledge. There hadn’t even been a potion involved. He’d been shocked that it worked so well, considering his attempt to stop McGraw from transporting himself to White Creek had been such a dismal failure.

  He felt someone’s gaze on him and glanced toward the end of the bar. The Rat Hole, Lake George’s hottest club, was shoulder to shoulder tonight, but there was no way he could miss the creature checking him out. He read her mind, learned she had argued with her live-in boyfriend about ordering Chinese or Italian, and both had left their $200,000 house without ordering dinner. They fought over everything lately, and she wanted a good time. She wanted to get back at him for working so much and for Angie, the intern he was rumored to be screwing behind her back.

  Cole knew he was good looking, not just ruggedly handsome, but uncommonly hot, as the two twen
ty-year-olds by the stage had commented when he’d walked by. It was just one of the perks that came with the job.

  The woman at the bar wanted to sleep with him. She saw him as a challenge. He liked that.

  He was relieved mortals could see him again. It had always been his job to interact with them, to screw up their lives just enough to bring out the worst in them. Little by little, he was getting his powers back, gaining favor again with the Dark One. Perhaps everything would work out after all.

  He eyed the woman at the end of the bar, lifted his chin just a bit to let her know that he noticed her. It would be so easy to take her upstairs. He had rented a two-bedroom apartment above The Rat Hole. The place was a dump compared to the Vegas penthouse suite he’d rented on his last job. He didn’t know why he’d chosen this apartment, really. Money wasn’t the problem. He was always furnished with more than he’d ever have need of. He could get a nice place if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He had no idea why. Maybe it was because this town reminded him of home, the home he’d had in life over 450 years ago. Not that he wanted to be reminded of his life either.

  Irritation grew at him. It always did when he thought of his mortal life. To make matter worse, this bar was so damnable hot! He hated being hot. That was probably why he hated going back, not to mention that he loved Earth. So much so that after his last job, he hadn’t gone back for over twenty-five years.

  If he took off like that again, it would be over. There would be no more second chances.

  He ordered another drink and forced his gaze away from the woman. His thoughts strayed to work.

  Nathan McGraw was too easy. It was almost insulting that he be given such an infallible task, but it was to be expected since he was on probation. Maybe it only seemed easy because of the spell. He was surprised it had taken so effortlessly. He’d expected it to confuse McGraw, not cause him to forget his mission on Earth altogether. Obviously, this was McGraw’s first job because he’d been entrusted with practically no powers whatsoever.

  Or else he just screwed up like you did. If you mess this one up…

  What he didn’t understand was why he couldn’t read McGraw’s mind. He could interpret his emotions, McGraw wore them on his sleeve, but getting into his mind had been impossible. Maybe it was because Cole’s probation had stripped him of his powers. It wasn’t because McGraw was not mortal. Cole had read minds of plenty of dead people. Maybe McGraw’s faith was too strong. Or maybe someone up there was protecting him.

  Because he couldn’t get into McGraw’s mind, he was powerless to find this Sarah Price.

  Calm down. The only thing you have to do is thwart McGraw. And he’d already done that with the spell. McGraw was a greenhorn, and he was stupid. He would be an easy win. Deceiving him today had been child’s play.

  He wouldn’t screw up again.

  Heaven help him if he did.

  * * *

  Sarah awoke long before anyone else in her now crowded household. Without taking time to shower, she threw on a ratty sweat suit and pair of sneakers and jogged down to the lakeshore.

  Dawn was just breaking over the mountain range which surrounded Lake George. A few boaters were already out. Their wake cut silently through the morning fog. This was the first time Sarah had ever really looked at the lake, she suddenly realized. When the real estate agent had taken her on a tour of the area, Sarah had planned on coming to the lake every morning with her coffee. But she’d always put it off because she was too busy. She hadn’t come down here once.

  She made her way passed the lake and headed into the wooded Battlefield Park. She wondered when she’d last jogged and realized that she couldn’t remember. Before her marriage, she’d ran at least two miles every morning. She’d run, shower, then head off to Onondaga Community College where she’d studied library science. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t even remember when she’d stopped running. It had been so subtle she couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment she’d decided to give up on it and herself.

  She ran under the shade of thick pines. The pathway beneath her feet was littered with pine needles. Since meeting Nathan, she’d read a little on Lake George’s history, and this was the spot where hundreds of people had died during the French and Indian War. She wondered if this where Nathan had died.

  She recalled the look on Nathan’s face when she’d asked him how he had died. It was a hurt look, clearly something he did not want to talk about. She’d read that most of the inhabitants of Fort William had died on the way to Fort Edward after the English had surrendered. They had been ambushed by Indians who had been promised an English massacre. When the French did not follow through on their promise of English blood, the Indians had attacked on their own. Hundreds of men, women, and children had perished. Nathan had likely been one of them. Sarah wondered if he had suffered. Clearly he had, or else his soul would have been able to rest.

  Sarah ran until her lungs felt like they would explode. Heart hammering in her chest, she stopped, checked her pedometer. It didn’t register a mile yet. Back in her day, she wasn’t even winded at two.

  She bent over and clasped her knees. Suddenly it all seemed too much. Nathan’s appearance, running the bookstore, now her family showing up uninvited. Why had she even thought she could run a successful business anyway? How incredibly stupid was she?

  Mom was right. She didn’t have any customers to speak of and she had no clue how to get them into her store. Her savings was gone, and she’d used up the money she’d received from the divorce settlement. Her inventory more than tripled sales. If this kept up, she’d be out of business before the end of the year. And Mom knew it. Why else had she come here? She knew The Bookworm was in trouble, and she’d come to rub it in her face. Not maliciously, of course. It was just her classic “Mom” way. The way that made Sarah feel like a failure in her marriage, her business, and her life.

  And she couldn’t believe she’d thrown her engagement and wedding rings into the lake. She’d loved those rings. And Art’s grandmother had undoubtedly loved those rings. Art loved those rings.

  And Art now loved Tanya. She recalled confronting him for the first time. It had been Valentine’s Day of all days. She’d waited at home, crouched in the corner of the foyer, for what seemed like hours. She’d thought he would deny it, not admit his love—Love!—for Tanya. Perhaps the fact that he hadn’t denied it was what hurt most of all.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sarah jumped at the sound of the familiar voice. She turned to find Nathan standing only a few feet from her.

  “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Why are you crying?”

  Sarah wiped her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

  He closed the distance between them. “What are you running from?”

  Life. Heartache. Chaos. Then it dawned on her that he was referring to her jogging. “Oh, this…this is just something I do sometimes. Used to do, anyway. It makes me feel better.”

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  Sarah wiped her eyes again. She spied a park bench in a secluded area next to a group of trees and sat down. Nathan followed her. He crouched on one knee in front of her.

  “I don’t know why you cry, and it’s not my business to ask. I sought you out today to thank you…for helping me.”

  Sarah looked at him. His eyes, now a brilliant shake of something—she still couldn’t put a name to the color—were focused on her. It was a look unlike anyone had ever given her. It made her feel…

  Appreciated.

  She hadn’t felt appreciated in she didn’t know how long.

  “You didn’t have to go to my family’s grave,” he went on. “You didn’t have to read their epitaphs for me.”

  “It wasn’t anything.”

  “It was.” He touched her hand. “And I appreciate it.”

  Sarah allowed his hand to remain over hers. His touch was ice cold, and any other time she would have pulled away, but today was different. Today it ea
sed the loneliness.

  Loneliness. The idea was foreign. She hadn’t even realized she was lonely, but she supposed it wasn’t out of the question, although she had no reason to be. She had her business, a bright future, good health, and now Mom and Uncle Stan.

  But she still didn’t feel as though she had anyone to talk to. She’d had friends back home in Syracuse, and she’d talked to quite a few on the phone and via e-mail since she’d moved, but it wasn’t the same. Since getting divorced and moving, she had never felt more alone.

  A new well of tears threatened again. For which exact reason, she wasn’t sure.

  Nathan moved to sit on the bench beside her. Her never let go of her hand.

  “I bought a bookstore in the middle of nowhere. I left my family, my friends, everything familiar to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was my dream,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I’ve wanted to own a bookstore for…forever.”

  “But why so far from your home? Didn’t you have family there?”

  That set off a new brigade of tears. “Mom showed up yesterday.”

  “Is that so terrible?”

  “All she did was point out everything I’m doing wrong.”

  “Likely because she cares about you.”

  Sarah brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. She knew he was right, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

  She squeezed his hand. For the first time since he’d come into her life, she was glad he was here. “Why is this all happening to me? You…I mean.”

  “I could ask the same thing.”

  Right again. In fact, more crazy things were happening in his life—or death—than hers.

  “Stan thought I’d abandoned him,” she said aloud. She wondered if Mom had purposely allowed Stan to think that instead of explaining to him that she’d moved. It would be just like her. The guilt. Always.

  “Who is Stan?”

  “My mother’s brother. My uncle, really.” She smiled. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought of Stan. “He’s a few years younger than mom, but in his mind he’ll always be a kid.”