Ghost a La Mode (34 page)

The three of them scattered over an arc of space spanning out from the twentyfive-pace mark. Each looked at graves, reading the names and dates.

"Be careful," Emma warned. "Some of the graves are difficult to read. You might have to trace them with your finger."

"I think I found it," called Phil. Martinez and Emma joined him next to a grave several yards to the left of where Emma ended her pacing. The name on the grave was Welles.

"This is it," Emma said with confidence.

"How can you be sure?" asked Detective Martinez.

Without answering, Emma walked over to the bench. Standing next to it was Billy. As she walked away, she heard Martinez yell to the deputy to bring a shovel.

"You buried the gold there, didn't you? By that grave?"

"Yes"

" ?"

"He was a friend of mine and Winston's. Was killed working in a mine. Just fifteen years old. Knew he'd take good care of it."

"Thank you, Billy."

"No, Miss Emma, thank you. I can go now."

"Go? For good?"

"Yes, ma'am. No sense staying now that you have the gold."

"The gold's not mine, Billy. Seeing that it's on city property, it probably belongs to the town of Julian."

"That's good."

Before Emma could say anything more, he was gone. And like Garrett Bell, he wasn't returning.

"HEY, FANCY PANTS"

Emma dropped her book in her lap as her head snapped up. Standing by the door that led from the patio to the kitchen was Phillip Bowers. Just behind him was her mother, smiling from ear to ear. He wasn't dressed hip and trendy like Grant, given to whims of fashion and vanity, but in conservative tailored slacks, a dress shirt, and sports jacket. Neither did he wear boots or a hat. Today, he looked more like a middleaged successful attorney than a rancher.

She hadn't seen Phil Bowers since the day she'd left Julian over three months ago. There had been scattered phone calls and e-mails, but both had been careful to keep their relationship bound to friendship. Although it had been her idea originally, now Emma was sorry she hadn't encouraged Phil. But with so many miles between them, and both their marriages coming to an end, she still felt it the best course of action. And Phil had seemed content to leave things the way they were. Lately, though, the calls and e-mails had drifted away.

Emma was still in touch with Susan Steveson. They e-mailed each other regularly. But as Phil and Emma's relationship waned, Susan had been quite careful not to mention Phil, and Emma had been too proud to ask.

Sitting in a chaise on her parents' patio, she felt the contradictory pull of both concern and pleasure at the sight of him. And in spite of herself, even being called Fancy Pants had sent a tingle up her spine.

"Hello, stranger."

Archie, who was rolling around on the grass, stopped his play to greet Phil.

"Hey, boy." Phil sat at the patio table and leaned down to scratch Archie behind the ears. "Got something for you. A gift from Killer." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small plastic bag containing dog biscuits. "From his own private stock homemade by Aunt Susan." He fed the dog a couple. "Let's leave the rest for later, okay?"

As if understanding, Archie took off to resume his play, darting back and forth across the yard with no visible purpose, yet with a definite pattern of motion.

Phil laughed as he put the plastic bag on the table. "I see Granny's still with you."

As if on cue, Elizabeth Miller came out of the house. "Granny, let's leave these young people alone for a bit."

The foggy image of Ish Reynolds started for the patio, Archie on her heels.

"Young people? I'll have you know I'm younger than both of them."

Emma watched the spirit with affection until she disappeared through the wall into the kitchen. Archie used his doggie door. She turned back to Phil Bowers.

"She divides her time between here and Julian."

"And what about you? You ever coming back to Julian?"

"As a matter of fact, my cousin Marlene and I are going down soon for Harvest Days. I've rented the cottage again."

"Going to stop and say hi to your pals at the cemetery?"

She couldn't tell if he was being sincere or mocking her. "Probably."

"And what about your living friends? Were you going to say hello to me while in town?"

"Of course, if you're around when I visit Susan and Glen."

Phil Bowers sighed. "Emma, I'm sorry I've been out of touch lately, but I needed time to think about this, about us." He fiddled with the dog treats as he spoke. "I needed to get you out of my system."

"Gee, Phil, you make me sound like a nasty virus."

He grinned. "In a way, you are." The grin disappeared. "I know you said you only wanted to be friends, and I know the longdistance thing will be a problem, but I'd like you to consider me more than a friend."

Emma took a deep breath and swung her legs off the chaise so that she was sitting facing him. "Phil, it's very difficult to maintain a longdistance relationship, you know that. We're not kids. And I won't be having the free time I used to."

"No?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Milo's offered me a job."

"Working for him as a clairvoyant?" He seemed skeptical.

"No. It's actually a job he was offered but turned down. I'm going to be on TV, hosting a weekly show on paranormal activities"

"Isn't there already a Ghost Hunters show on the tube?"

It was the response she'd expected from him. "Not like that show. It will be in a talk-show format and will have scientists and experts in various paranormal fields as guests, along with laypeople who have experienced various phenomena. We are hoping it will be serious and fun at the same time."

"A talk show, huh? Like your husband."

"It will only be on once a week, not every day. They've scheduled it during the same time slot as Grant's show." She winked at him. "Whitecastle versus Whitecastle is how some of the early ads are going to play"

"And how is the other Whitecastle versus Whitecastle coming along?"

"We've reached a settlement; the divorce should be final soon. How about your divorce?"

"It was final last week."

Emma studied his face. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing, Phil?"

"I wasn't sure at first, but now I think it's a very good thing." He smiled at her. For a few moments, neither of them said anything.

"I came up here for two reasons, Emma." He pulled a folded document from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her. "That's the deed to the old Reynolds homestead. It's yours now."

Emma looked down at the recorded deed. "But I didn't want it, Phil. That's not why I went down there."

"I know. But Glen, Susan, and I want you and your family to have it. Though, trust me, my part in this is purely selfish. I figure if you own property down there, you might come down more often. That could solve part of the distance problem."

She blushed, and not just from his generosity.

"You can build a nice cabin on that piece of land. I can help you find the right architect and builder. It could be a vacation home for your family and a solid place for Granny to haunt."

Emma laughed through tears. "I think they would love that, Phil. Granny especially. I just don't know what to say."

"That brings me to the second reason for my visit. How about saying yes to my dinner invitation tonight? We have a lot to celebrate: your new career, my divorce, your settlement, the property. It can be a new start for a new type of relationship."

WHEN THEY RETURNED FROM dinner, it was late and the Miller house was dark, save for the kitchen light. They entered through the back door. Archie left his bed to greet them.

"Thank you for the lovely time, Phil."

Putting a hand on each of his shoulders, she reached her face up and kissed him on the lips. It was followed by another, then by a whole series of kisses, until they were wrapped in each other's arms. After the longest kiss ended, Emma pulled away.

In the dim light, Phil chuckled. "Look at us. We're both middleaged and still living at home."

Emma placed a fingertip on his lips. "Shh, you'll wake my parents."

Taking him by the hand, she led him up the back staircase.

"DID YOU AND PHILLIP have a good time?"

Emma jumped at the voice. It was four thirty in the morning, and she'd just said goodbye to Phil Bowers at the back door, sending him on his way with little sleep. Elizabeth Miller was seated at the kitchen counter, reading the paper and drinking coffee. Next to her was the ghost of Granny Apples.

"Mother, why are you up so early?"

"I often get up this early. Granny and I have lovely visits in the morning. You and your father just don't know it because you both sleep like rocks."

Emma looked out the window and watched Phil walk down the driveway toward his truck. When she turned back to her mother, she knew her face was flushed with embarrassment. Elizabeth noticed and smiled.

"You think I never knew about all the times Grant Whitecastle tiptoed up those backstairs? Or the times Nate does it now?"

She turned a page of the newspaper, giving her daughter time to let the information sink in.

"It's different for you girls today. I understand that. Your father may or may not, so I never told him." She looked up. "But the next time Phillip Bowers comes to town, let's put him in the guest room, at least for appearances. That way, we can send him back to Julian with a proper hot breakfast."

Emma wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her cheek.

"There will be a next time, won't there?"

"Yes, Mother, I'm pretty certain there will be many next times with Phil Bowers."

Emma poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter, drinking it and watching Elizabeth. She had weathered losing her son, bearing her grief with dignity and grace. Emma wasn't sure she could do the same if she ever lost Kelly. She glanced at Granny and Granny nodded back, indicating it was time. She disappeared.

"Mother, Granny and I have a surprise for you." Elizabeth looked up, puzzled.

Emma guided her mother to a chair in the dim dining room. She stood behind her and placed her hands gently against the sides of her mother's face.