little negotiation about leaving the porch door open.”
“Maybe because she wanted to push you over the rail.”
He would’ve laughed, but clearly this wasn’t a joke to her. “Why would she?”
“How do I know why?” Irritation bubbled in her voice. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. We’re sitting here talking about a ghost. For God’s sake, Beckett.” She grabbed the glass of soda the minute the waitress set it down.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Heather.” Beckett sent her an easy smile. “Thanks.”
He waited until Heather moved off again. “We’re having the conversation because you’re upset about it. Murphy wasn’t scared.”
“He’s a child.”
“Yeah, and I figure that’s why he actually saw her. They say, don’t they, kids are more open to stuff like this.”
“How do I know? I don’t—didn’t—don’t—believe in stuff like this. It’s crazy.”
Gauging her mood, he tried to lighten it. “You can be Scully and I can be Mulder. Maybe I do want to believe, but the fact is Murphy saw her. Hair like yours, he said, so she’s a blonde. Wearing a long dress. I’d say she’s from back when women wore long dresses. Eighteenth or nineteenth century.”
“God.”
Now he put a hand over hers, held it firm. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, to them, to you. Clare, if I thought for a second Lizzy wanted to hurt anyone, I’d find a way to—I don’t know—exorcise her. I guess it’s exorcism. Here’s the thing.” He shifted forward a little. “You’re thinking she’s all Blair Witch or Poltergeist. Because you dig on horror novels. So you think ghost equals evil.”
“Ghosts aren’t always evil in fiction.”
“There you go.”
“In fiction. I’ve never dealt with one in reality. It scared me, seeing Murphy going up those stairs, smiling up at thin air.”
“I have a theory. Quick version before the quarters run out, and the pizza gets here. She likes what we’re doing, likes that we’re fixing the building. Bringing it back to life, you could say. I think she likes having people around.”
“Now you want to believe you not only have a ghost, but a sociable ghost.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, so many reasons.”
“Try this, Agent Scully. The more we do over there, the more she comes out. When we first went through, I got nothing. But later, when we started taking measurements, when I started doing some sketches, I got this sense. Like being watched. Now that was spooky. As things progressed, I started smelling honeysuckle. Not every time, but more and more often. Now today, we take the tarp down, and that’s a big deal. We have this.”
“I don’t want her screwing around with my kids.”
“Who?” Murphy crawled into her lap.
“Anybody.” Clare wrapped her arms around him, nuzzled his neck until he laughed. “Nobody messes with the Brewster boys.”
And that, Beckett thought as the pie arrived, was that.
After she took the boys home, Beckett went back over. He had the pleasure of walking over the stretch of finished floor, thinking about the permanent steps that would go in before much longer.
And waited to see what might happen.
Nothing.
Maybe they hurt her feelings, he thought. Dead or alive, women could be pretty damn touchy.
“You scared her. Her kids are number one with her, and Murphy’s the baby on top of it. So she’s a little freaked out, that’s all.”
Still nothing.
“I don’t know why I’m getting the silent treatment. I didn’t do anything. And you ought to cut her a break. Most people get a little freaked out. I’m used to you, and I still get jumpy sometimes.”
And again, he thought, nothing.
“You should give her a little time to adjust, especially since she’ll probably be around a lot while we’re working on the place, after we finish.
“One of her friends is going to run the inn. Hope’ll be living up on three, so Clare and Avery are bound to hang around. Once we finish, and Hope’s living here, you won’t have to be alone.”
The door to the porch in E&D opened, and Beckett realized it was a little disconcerting at night without the crew around.
“Sure, a little fresh air’d be good.”
He walked out, smelled the honeysuckle.
“You’ll like her when you get to know her. She’s great. She was afraid you might hurt the boy, so—”
He broke off when the door slammed.
“Whoa. Temper.” He opened the door again. “I didn’t say I thought it. Look, maybe she’s a little overprotective. Her husband was killed. Damn, stupid war. He never got to meet Murphy. So, the way she sees it, she’s all they’ve got, and she needs to make