Watch for the Dead (Relatively Dead Book 4) (2 page)

“I know you will, pumpkin.” Leslie kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Talk later.” She glanced quickly at Abby. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem. I hope George will be okay.”

“We’ve got to get there first,” Leslie said, already halfway down the stairs.

Abby waited, her hand on Ellie’s shoulder, until Leslie’s car had pulled away. The touch was to reassure the child, who, despite her insight, was still a child, and also to sort of take her psychic temperature, to see just how upset she really was. “You want some breakfast?”

“Okay,” Ellie said. “We left in kind of a hurry.”

Abby led the way to the kitchen. “How hungry are you? Cereal hungry or French toast hungry?”

“French toast,” Ellie said promptly.

“Coming up.” Abby started to rummage in the refrigerator for eggs, milk and bread—thank goodness they’d stocked up over the past weekend, although they’d been counting on going to a farmers’ market or two for fresh vegetables.

“Can you tell me about your dad? I didn’t know he was sick.” Was that too much to ask an eight-year-old? But Ellie was pretty mature for her age, and Abby didn’t like to talk down to her—Ellie had a good BS detector.

“Sometimes,” Ellie said. “Not all the time. He calls it a bad tummy ache, but last night it got worse and Mom got worried. Will he be all right?”

“I think so. I’ve had friends who had the same problem. You know what they did?”

Ellie shook her head.

“The doctors made a little tiny hole in his abdominal wall, and they stuck in a tube-thing with a pair of scissors or something, and another tube-thing with a tiny light, and they snipped the gallbladder out, all through a one-inch incision.”

“Cool. Can you live without a gallbladder?”

“Sure. You just have to be careful about what you eat—not too many fatty foods. So, I don’t know how long you’ll be staying here. Could be just overnight—sometimes if it’s easy surgery, like I described, they’ll send the patient home the same day or the next one. Or if it’s more complicated, you might be here for a week. Is that okay?”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah. I like doing stuff with you. And Ned. Is he going to be around?”

“Part of the time. He has to work.”

“He works a lot,” Ellie said.

“Yes, he does. He owns and manages the company, so he’s responsible for what goes on there. But he also likes what he’s doing, which is a good thing.”

“But what does his company do?”

That wasn’t easy to put into terms a third-grader could understand. To be honest, Abby couldn’t describe it very well herself. “He analyzes things to see what they’re made of. He works with a lot of scientists. Have you had science in school yet?”

“I don’t like school much,” Ellie told her, looking mutinous.

“Why not?”

“It’s boring. Everybody else is so slow, they’re reading, like, baby books. I read a lot faster than they do.”

As Abby beat eggs and added milk, and a dash of cinnamon and a splash of vanilla, she wondered if it was time to revisit the idea of a private school. With Ned’s help Leslie and George could afford it, but Leslie had expressed a reluctance to take Ellie out of what she considered “normal” school. Abby could understand that viewpoint, but Ellie was somewhere beyond normal and might benefit from greater individual attention. Leslie should have a better understanding of that now. But that issue was something to discuss later—not this week, with George’s problems and with school starting in a little more than a week. “Maybe we need to find you some non-school activities. What do you like to do?”

“I like computers. And I like art.”

That gave Abby an idea: the perfect intersection of technology and art. “Do you have a camera?”

“Only the one on my cell phone, and I’m not supposed to use the phone unless I need to get in touch with Mommy or Daddy. Not just for fun.”

“Well, maybe we could get you a basic camera and you could experiment with it. You can upload the pictures to a computer and edit them if you want to, so you can tell how you’re doing.”

“Cool. Can we look for one today?”

“Why not? I didn’t have anything planned for today.”

“Why not?” Ellie asked her, tilting her head. “Mommy has a job. Didn’t you used to work at the same place?”

“Yes, and I’ll probably get a job again sometime. I like working with kids, but I’m not sure I want to be a teacher.”

“Does Ned have a lot of money?”

Oh, crap,
Abby thought. Another conversation she wasn’t prepared to have right now. But she couldn’t lie. “Yes, compared to a lot of people, he does. But he’s earned it all himself, with his company. Some people inherit money from their families, but not him. If you’re asking if he’s supporting me, the answer is yes. But not forever, I hope. I like to work. It makes me feel useful. Why do you ask, Ellie?”

“Sometimes Mommy and Daddy argue about money, and how much things cost. Like how they’re going to pay the hospital bills and stuff.”

“I’m sorry to hear that”—
and I’m pretty sure they didn’t intend Ellie to hear it
—“but lots of people have problems with big bills like that. Things have a way of working themselves out.”
And I need to talk to Ned about helping them somehow, if Leslie would even consider taking anything from us,
Abby added to herself. “Okay, so finish up, brush your teeth, and we’ll go see if we can find a camera for you. Oh, maybe we should fix up a bedroom for you. Which one do you want?”

“The one overlooking the cemetery out back.”

Why was she not surprised?

Chapter 2

As they made the bed in Ellie’s bedroom of choice, Abby tried to figure out where to go to find a camera. She had a point-and-shoot camera that suited her, but she didn’t ask much from it. She wanted to record events, not create art. Ellie was young, but she was careful with her possessions, so she should have something better than a child’s camera made of pink plastic. Digital, definitely—did anyone still make film anymore? The way Abby saw it, she had two choices: either go to a big box store, where they’d have a reasonable selection and at reasonable prices, or take Ellie to the only true camera store that seemed to exist these days, in Newton somewhere, or so she’d heard. She was pretty sure that someone there would have the expertise to talk with Ellie and find out what she could handle. It might cost a bit more, but the advice was worth something. Abby booted up her computer and searched for directions to the store.

Once they were out in the car, Ellie turned to Abby. “Where are we going? A mall? Which one?”

“No, not a mall. A real camera store, in a town.”

“Really? There is such a thing?”

“Yes, a few have survived, Ellie. I want someone you can talk to about what kind of pictures you want to take, and what you would need to do that.”

“Okay.” Ellie settled into her seat and dutifully fastened her seat belt, while Abby did the same.

The camera store was no more than half an hour away. They parked on the street running alongside it and crossed the street to the entrance. Ellie reached the door first and opened it eagerly. Abby followed more slowly, and paused just inside to scope things out, but it was immediately clear that the right side was where all the cameras were—more than she ever remembered seeing in one place, ranging from simple to elaborate. Ellie was already there, peering into one of the glass-fronted cases, her eyes gleaming.

A guy who couldn’t have been older than twenty came out from the back of the store. “What can I help you with?”

Abby waved her hand at Ellie. “She wants a camera. What do you recommend?”

If Abby had been expecting the first words out of his mouth to be “How much do you want to spend?” she was relieved when the young man—who had to be five years younger than she was—leaned over to address Ellie directly. “What do you want to use it for?”

After listening for a couple of minutes, Abby wandered a bit through the store, confident that Ellie and the salesperson had matters well in hand. She realized she hadn’t seen a photo album for a long time, much less assembled a collection of pictures. Everything was online or on the computer these days, which made things easy but made her feel a little sad. Sure, you could share your virtual album on a monitor or television screen, but it wasn’t the same as snuggling with someone else and leafing through an old album together, commenting on the strange hairstyles and funny-looking cars in old pictures. She felt that those little pieces of history should be physical, something you could hold—which she realized was inconsistent, because she was “seeing” her deceased relatives in front of her when she knew full well that they couldn’t be touched because only their images lingered, not their forms.

“Abby?” Ellie was tugging on her arm.

“You find something, Ellie?”

“Yeah. Come see.” Ellie all but dragged her back to the counter. “Look at this,” she said, picking up a camera about the same size and shape as Abby’s, but with more buttons and dials. Ellie confidently explained what most of them did, holding the camera up now and then so Abby could look through the viewscreen. Abby had only a vague grasp of what Ellie was talking about, but she knew one thing: she’d come to the right place, and Ellie was more than ready to leapfrog right over a starter camera.

When Ellie finally ran out of steam, she said, “Is it okay? I mean, can you, we, afford this?”

“Let’s find out.” Abby turned to the salesclerk. “How much is it?”

“All in? I mean, with a rechargeable lithium battery, and a card that holds lots of pictures, and a case?”

When Abby nodded yes, he named a figure that made her gulp, but only once. The camera looked so deceptively simple. Maybe she could tell Leslie it cost only half the actual price? And Ellie seemed so at home with handling it.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Abby swallowed again as she fished in her bag for her wallet and credit cards.

Five minutes later they emerged blinking in the bright sunlight. “Thank you, thank you, Abby,” Ellie said, almost bouncing with excitement. “This is so cool. And I promise I’ll take good care of it. Can we go somewhere and take pictures? And can I use your computer when we get back?”

“Sure, why not? You hungry yet?”

“Kind of. Where are we?”

“Newton. Any place you want to go, or should I pick?”

“You can pick.” Ellie turned back to exploring her new toy, but Abby was pleased to see that she handled it delicately.

Where to? She had a sudden brainstorm: Wellesley was just down the road. Wellesley was where she and Ned had run into a few shared ancestors in the cemetery, not long after they’d first met. Maybe Ellie would like to meet them too? She started the car and went around the block to get onto Route 16.

When they arrived, Abby went straight to the parking lot behind the main street and pulled into a space. “Don’t leave your camera in plain sight, Ellie. Under the seat, or I can put it in the trunk, okay?”

“Okay. Trunk, please.”

Abby unlatched the trunk from inside, and Ellie went quickly around to tuck her precious package away out of sight.

“Where are we going?” Ellie asked.

“That place over there has sandwiches and drinks, I think.” She pointed to the shop visible from the corner of the parking lot—and across from the cemetery. She and Ned had stopped there once. It seemed so long ago now, and so much had happened since.

“Do they have cookies?” Ellie interrupted Abby’s reverie.

“I’m pretty sure they do,” Abby told her, then led her to the crosswalk.

Inside, they ordered at the counter, and Abby added a couple of pounds of coffee beans to take home. When their food was ready, they went over to a table by the front window, and Abby carefully maneuvered Ellie into the seat with the better view of the cemetery. Then she just watched.

For a couple of minutes Ellie just prattled on about her camera, between bites of a stuffed croissant. And then her gaze drifted across the street. Abby had to suppress a smile: if Ellie had been a cat, Abby would have said that her ears pricked up. Ellie stared intently for perhaps thirty seconds, then she turned back to Abby. “Are they . . . ?”

Abby smiled and nodded. “They are.”

“Are you testing me or something?”

“Maybe. I hope you don’t mind. Ned and I came here a while ago, when I was first learning about . . . this thing. And I found them right away, just like you.”

“Okay. So Ned sees them too? I mean, these particular ones?”

“Yes, he does. He and I are related a lot of generations back, and we’re both related to them.” Abby nodded toward the cemetery.

“How come I see them?”

Oops.
Abby hadn’t thought about that aspect of this little excursion. She and Ned saw the same deceased people because they were related to them genetically, as well as to each other. But how to explain to Ellie why she saw them without telling her the whole story?

“Maybe because you’re with me? You know we kind of amplify each other, right?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ellie looked skeptical, but didn’t ask any more questions.

Abby breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Leslie was going to have to have that “who’s your daddy?” conversation sooner rather than later, but not today.

After lunch Abby and Ellie strolled along the main street of the town, stopping at the large bookstore to browse. They each picked out a couple of books, and it was after three when they finally headed back to the parking lot. When they reached the car, Ellie said, “That was fun, Abby. Thank you.”

“I had a good time too, Ellie. Get in—time to head home and see what’s what.” She pulled out her phone, which she had left on in case Leslie called with any updates about George, but there were no messages. She put it back in her purse without comment.

Getting back to Lexington was easy over local roads. Heck, in August getting anywhere was generally easy, since most people seemed to head off on vacation, reducing the traffic. With the possible exception of the highways leading on and off Cape Cod, which she had heard could be backed up for miles.

Once they reached Lexington, Ellie was out of the car and standing impatiently next to the trunk even before Abby had turned off the engine. Abby popped open the trunk, then got out. “Read the instructions first, will you?” she told Ellie.