Her blue eyes flashed upward when she saw Abbie come in. The relief was plain on her face and in the sudden slump of her shoulders.
Abbie smiled at her.
Sandra made a half smile in return. She asked, “How was it?”
Abbie walked to her desk, which put her to Sandra’s left, and two desks over. She started sorting papers while she considered how best to answer. “It’s going to need some work before we can show it.”
Sandra’s high heels clicked on the floor, and Abbie could feel her standing behind her. “That isn’t what I mean, and you know it.”
Abbie turned and faced her. Sandra’s eyes were too bright, her face too intense. “Sandra, please, it’s over, let it go.”
Sandra gripped her arm, fingers biting deep. “Tell me what it was like.”
“You’re hurting me.”
Her hand dropped numbly to her side and she almost whispered, “Please, I need to know.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault.”
“But I sold them that house.”
“But Phillip Garner played with the Ouija board. He opened the way to what happened.”
“But I should have seen it. I should have realized something was wrong. I did notice things when Marion contacted me. I should have done something.”
“What, what could you have done?”
“I could have called the police.”
“And told them that you had a bad feeling about one of your clients? You aren’t a registered psychic, they would have ignored you. And Sandra, you didn’t have any premonitions. You’ve convinced yourself you knew beforehand, but it isn’t true. You never mentioned it to anyone in the office.” Abbie tried to get her to smile. “And get real, girl, if you had news that important, you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You are the original gossip. A kind gossip, but still a gossip.”
Sandra didn’t smile, but she nodded. “True, I don’t keep secrets very well.”
Abbie put her arm around her and hugged her. “Stop beating yourself up over something you had nothing to do with. Cut the guilt off; it isn’t your guilt to deal with.”
Sandra leaned into her and began to cry.
They stayed there like that until it was full dark and Sandra was hoarse from crying.
Sandra said, “I’ve made you late getting home.”
“Charles will understand.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I have a very understanding husband.”
She nodded and snuffled into the last Kleenex in the room. “Thanks.”
“It’s what friends are for, Sandra. Now go home and feel good about yourself, you deserve it.”
Abbie called her husband before locking up the office, to assure him that she was coming home. He was very understanding, but he tended to worry about her. Then she escorted Sandra to her car and made sure she drove away.
IT was weeks later before Abbie stood in the newly carpeted living room. Fresh hex signs had been painted over the doors and windows. A priest had blessed the house. A medium had come and told Brian Garner’s ghost that it was dead. Abbie did not know, or want to know, if the ghost had been stubborn about leaving.
The house felt clean and new, as if it had just been built. Perhaps a registered psychic could have picked up some lingering traces of evil and horror, but Abbie couldn’t.
The kitchen door stood white and pure. There were no stains today, everything had been fixed, everything had been hidden. And wonder of wonders, she had a client coming to see it.