spirit.”
“Mama, you’re talking nonsense.”
I step out of my duplex and turn to lock the door behind me. The honking increases.
“A clue was lost in Austin!” Mama insists. “It’s the only time Vivian’s words were taken out of Darcy. Someone in that museum up there must have torn a page out!”
“Okay, relax.”
Loud, insistent leaning-on-the-horn type honking is happening now in my driveway.
“I’ll find the place and call you from there. Love you, bye.”
I stand outside the truck titled “Haunted, Ghosts, The Dead, and More” and knock tentatively. The windows are dusty and tinted, and I’m not sure anyone’s inside. But when I called, the hours said nine to five, and it’s just after noon.
Ginny and her mother are happily relaxing at a café down the block after our smashing success in ordering Ginny a cake that the baker swore up and down could be done by the thirtieth of June and delivered to the reception hall in Darcy. Mrs. Rattles convinced the poor woman that Ginny would fall apart if they couldn’t get her a cake, and who wants to disappoint a pregnant woman? And who wants to say no to a domineering lady bearing down on you angrily from the other side of the counter? Either way, the cake is a go.
When no one answers my three knocks, I try the doorknob and am surprised when it opens.
I step inside and close the door behind me. I look around the nondescript room with photographs of buildings all along the walls and paintings of ghosts and goblins in between. Ropes separate the different sections. One area is called “New York’s Most Famous Spirits” and another “The Dead Live on—See Where They Lurk.”
A young girl wearing square-rimmed black glasses and chewing a huge wad of pink bubblegum sits at a makeshift welcome area and asks if she can help me.
“I hope so. I’m from Darcy in Hill Country, and a number of years ago, y’all borrowed one of our haunted items for an exhibit. And a page of it didn’t make it back.”
She points to a glass case in the corner. “That’s all of our archived items. We kept some things from old exhibits. Nobody usually wants them back. Nobody cares about ghosts’ belongings.”
“Well, I’m the exception.” I head for the case.
“The couple must be free of false entanglements and embody the true nature of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet,” Mama repeats into the phone to me. “Wow, that’s the best clue yet! I’m right here in the liquor room, and now I’m writing it down on a pad of paper—”
“I don’t need a play-by-play, Mama.” I look out the back seat window of Mrs. Rattles’ SUV as we roll past the car dealerships along I-35 on our way home to Darcy.
Ginny’s in the shotgun seat, and she and her mother continue their argument over her older sister’s bridesmaid dress.
Mama’s shrill scream, in a tone only God could love, effectively stops even Helena Rattles from talking. She and Ginny whip their heads around to the back seat.
“She’s fine. Just overly excited as usual.” I give them both a thumbs up, and they withdraw their attention.
“Macey!” Mama gasps. “Ginny’s pregnant before walking down the aisle—that could be the entanglement! I know all about what that’s like. So maybe Logan and Gigi are the soul mates after all.”
I nearly throw the phone out the window. “Mama, I wish I’d never gone to that haunted truck for you. You’re just making things worse!” And I hang up.
Chapter Nineteen
That night, I take Ginny out for a mellow bachelorette party. We start at a baby store in San Antonio and then go to Mamacita’s for fajitas and chips. It’s just the two of us—her older sister and two cousins aren’t in town yet, and Mrs. Rattles has grounded Ginny’s younger sister for breaking curfew three nights in a row.
Ginny says Logan and Blake took Dave out tonight, too. And she said Dave swore they’d come to Mamacita’s also so we can all hang out together.
But the boys never show up. At first, I think it’s just Dave being Dave except…
“Dave just texted.” Ginny frowns as she looks at her phone. “He says Logan won’t let them come here. Says it’s too far from Darcy and he’s on a tight schedule.”
He’s avoiding me.
“He says he has to meet Gigi at the ranch by eleven or else.” Ginny looks up at me. “Does that sound fishy to you?”
I avert my eyes. “I don’t know. I mean, not necessarily…”
“Austen Macey