That cut her off mid-rant. “He did?”
“He said tell you to send six of your best to Savannah.”
“Six? Six? That’s half my stable. I can’t short my clients.”
“All right.” I cast around for Linus, but he was already gone, making his own calls. “I understand.”
“It will take a few hours.”
Thinking I must have misheard, I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “What?”
“You heard me. Give them six hours. They’ll be there.” She huffed. “Tell him he owes me a mural in the guest suite once repairs are complete. I’m talking full color, full wall, full everything.”
Giddy with success, I closed the deal. “I’ll let him know.”
“And you will be receiving the bill.”
The eye twitch developing on my right side made me glad she couldn’t see me. “I’m happy to pay it.”
“Take care of my people, Grier.” A cold edge cut through her voice, slicing through the crotchety-grandma routine. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”
The call ended, and I stood there absorbing the threat from a woman I now had much less trouble imagining as a ruthless maven of Atlanta’s underground.
Woolly rustled a nearby curtain with the patience of someone tapping their foot.
“Linus trusts her.” I pocketed my phone. “She can’t be all bad.”
The curtains parted until they framed Boaz, who hadn’t moved from his spot or lifted his head from his hands since he ran off Adelaide. And Amelie, who didn’t appear to be making any headway soothing him.
“Point taken.” I jerked them closed again. “We can’t always trust our judgment where our hearts are concerned.” I strained my ears, but I was alone. “Where is everyone?”
The temperature in the room lowered as her presence retracted to take a look around but shot back to me in a snap.
The jumble of images dumped in my head left me scrambling. “Oh no. Oscar.”
Between checking in, Boaz delivering his brutal news, and Linus and I planning next steps, I had totally forgotten him. For hours. Only the request for a headcount had turned up his absence.
“You want me to have fifty billion kids when I can barely keep track of a single ghost boy?”
The old house huffed air through the floor registers in a sigh that told me I was wasting my breath. Apparently, she felt that nine months was plenty of time for me to mature into a mother-type person.
“Cover for me.” I shot out the back door and jogged for the woods, where two familiar gwyllgi, both romping on four legs, met me. “Don’t mind me. I’m just winning the mother-of-the-year award for shooing Oscar off to play hide-and-seek then forgetting I was supposed to do the seeking.”
Hood whined in sympathy, but Lethe chuffed with amusement.
“Laugh while you can, Mom.” I breezed past them. “Your day is coming.”
Thank the goddess, my adoptive son was super low-maintenance. Being dead meant he didn’t eat, sleep, or drink. As long as I kept him entertained so he didn’t relapse into poltergeistism out of boredom, I was set. Except when, like now, I totally and completely failed at ghost motherhood.
With any luck, I would cut my teeth on Lethe’s and Hood’s brood—or they would cut their teeth on me—before I was expected to figure out how to rear my own offspring.
Woolly.
Enough with the kid thoughts already.
Irked, I shot her a mental picture of my own—me lounging on an operating table, waiting for a tubal.
For a second, I wondered if houses could faint. Her presence retreated from my head, and I took full advantage of the quiet to focus on locating Oscar.
Once I got far enough into the woods, I chose a tree to hide behind then gave Woolly the signal to send Oscar back out. I waited until he zoomed past, clearly hunting me, before I tapped his shoulder.
“Tag.” I spun and ran, calling over my shoulder. “You’re it.”
“We were playing hide-and-seek,” he protested. “You didn’t find me.”
“I know.” I slowed. “I suck.”
“You mean sucker. You fell for it. Woolly told me guilt trips work every time.” Laughing, he tapped my shoulder. “Now you’re it.”
“Hey.” I snatched him out of the air. “Woolly better not be giving you pointers.”
“No.” He wriggled in my grip, but it was too late, and he knew it. “Please.”
“Show no mercy.” Familiar with his ticklish spots, I homed in on them until he was gasping and laughing, black tears painting his cheeks. “That’s rule number one.”
Only when I was certain he was worn out did I sling him onto my hip for the trip home.
Exhausted, he leaned his cheek on my shoulder. “That was fun.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I kissed the top of his head. “And I’m sorry I forgot to come get you.”
Chubby fingers twining in my hair, he nestled closer. “Why did you?”
Oscar’s tendency to wink out when he got tired meant he had a poor grasp on the passage of time. He might not realize how long I stood him up, or even been present from the time I should have started counting until he showed up looking for me at Woolly, but that only made it worse, not better. I was supposed to be his keeper, not the other way around.
“Boaz came by with some bad news. One of his friends died, and he’s upset about it. We all are. She was a sentinel, and she helped a lot of people. She even helped me out once.”
“I’m sorry she’s dead.” He grew quiet. “Will she become a ghost? Like me?”
“No.” Her family would be performing the culmination soon, if they hadn’t already. “She won’t be a ghost.”
“Oh.” His voice grew small. “That’s good.”
Drawing back to look at him, I wondered, “Why?”
“I didn’t like being a ghost. Nobody could see me or talk to me. It made me so mad, I hurt people. I was lonely and sad all the time, and I just wanted to go home.”
Only his use of the past tense kept me from cringing. “Are you happy now?”
“Yep.” He planted a smacking kiss on my cheek. “You’re not my real mom. She was older.” His cool fingers traced where faint crow’s-feet had started gathering beside my eyes. “You’re still kind of a kid. I like that. It means you remember all the best games.”
“You’re family, Oscar. You’re welcome at Woolworth House for as long as she’s standing.”
Since the old girl would outlive me, that seemed like the most binding promise to make. Assuming she got her wish and I did have fifty billion children, I would ensure they grew up right alongside Oscar, treated him like a big brother, and always made him welcome in our home. Because they would grow up and move out, but he…wouldn’t. Unless he trusted one of them to wear his button and take him with them, and I had trouble imagining I would ever trust my offspring that much. They would have me for a mother, after all.
And sure enough, the thought of kids had popped right back into my head the second Woolly’s traitorous roofline came into view.
Grumbling under my breath, I narrowed my eyes at her. “Your day is coming, missy.”
Oscar sat up and looked around. “Who’s Missy?”
“Someone who is going to be in a lot of trouble when I have a spare minute.” I lifted Oscar and set him on his feet. “Here’s the deal. You can’t let the sentinels know you’re here. Some of them can see you, and some of them can’t. Let’s just assume they all can and not let them spot you, okay?”
Oscar drifted up to my eye level. “Boaz and his friends might take me if they find me?”
Leave it to a kid to see right through adult BS. “Yeah.” I tugged on his collar. “They might try.”
“I’m not worried.” He jutted out his chin. “You won’t let them.”
“No, I won’t.” I ruffled his hair. “But I hope it won’t come to that.”
“I’ll be good,” he promised. “I’ll go play in the basement.”
“Not the…” I blinked, and he was gone, “…basement.”
Linus and I had made the space as ghost boy friendly as possible, but I didn’t want him treating downstairs like a playground. As much as I hated the role of disciplinarian, I might not have a choice but to reinstate his ban.
With Oscar sorted, at least for now, I went in search of Linus. I found him standing on the porch, deep in conversation with Woolly. A noise that I swear resembled a baby rattle shook nearby. I decided to pretend it was bags of rice shifting on the sorting tables and not yet another hint dropped with the force of an anvil.
“I’ve made the arrangements,” he greeted me, smile seesawing on his lips. “Change, and we’ll go.”
The battle between grim acceptance of our destination and Woolly’s total and complete lack of subtlety had him close to caving into a full-on grin, and I found that impossibly adorable.
“What’s the dress code?” I took the steps and kissed the corner of his mouth twitching the most. “You’re dressed to the nines as usual. What should I wear?”
Puzzled by the kiss, he didn’t hesitate to return it. “A burlap sack?”
“Shoot.” I snapped my fingers. “Neely threw out my very last one when he purged my closet of clothes that no longer fit.”
“What you have on is fine.” He tugged the hem of my shirt, his fingers sliding underneath to touch skin. “You are, however, covered in mud. I would appreciate it if you changed your shoes before we get in the van.”
“We’re taking the van?” I couldn’t stop my gaze from skating across the yard in search of Hood. “Is this not a solo mission?” I popped his hand when he tickled my ribs. “And by solo, I mean other people will be joining us.”