Chapter Fourteen

Saul paled. "Avi? Avi Felder?"

I nodded. "We, um, had a chat. He wasn't aware that time had passed, and he didn't know that Oren was dead."

Saul carded his fingers through his snowy hair. "Oh my god. Poor Avi." He took a couple of shallow breaths. "Are you sure?" I nodded. "Patrice is going to— Can we go over there now?"

"I don't think that would do any good. For one thing, he wasn't hanging around when I left. For another, I'm not sure anybody else could see him."

His gaze sharpened. "What makes you think so?"

"Ricky stopped by yesterday when Avi was, er, manifesting. He didn't see anything, didn't seem to sense anything unusual."

"But you did?"

"Yes. And I think Gil can see him too. Or at least sense that something's there." I snorted. "On the other hand, Gil's been known to stare at a knothole for hours without twitching a whisker, so I'm not sure he's the best indicator."

Saul sighed, and his gaze turned pleading. "If you see him again, would you call me? Call us both, Patrice and me? Please?"

I screwed up my face. "I guess. But once he's, well, achieved his goal, whatever it might be, he just disappears. So even if he's there when I call, he might not be there when you arrive."

"I don't care," Saul said fiercely. "Just the possibility is reason enough for the trip. Promise me, please. Any day, any time. 24/7. If he appears, call us."

"Okay." I bit my lip. "If you don't mind my asking, how exactly did Avi die? I, um, didn't want to ask him."

Saul cleared his throat and tugged on the front of his blue button-down as though settling back into himself. "Avi grew up in Ghost. In that very house, in fact."

That tied in with what Carson had told me the first day. "And Oren?" At Saul's raised eyebrows, I spread my hands, palms up. "I never met him, you know. He was my mom's second cousin once removed. I have no idea how he knew I existed, let alone why he left me the house and everything in it."

"Ah. I see." He steepled his fingers. "Oren was an architect, a partner in a firm up in Portland with a lot of national and international contracts. It was a fluke he ever came to town because usually they did much higher end projects. But the couple who'd bought the Jenkinses' dilapidated Victorian on the other side of town and wanted to turn it into a B & B were friends with one of the other partners. Oren volunteered for the project because he loved nineteenth century architecture. He and Avi ran into each other in one of the shops on Main Street and that was it for both of them, even though Avi was almost twelve years Oren's junior."

"Really? Love at first sight?"

Saul smiled sadly. "Let's say attraction at first sight. But they never passed up a chance to be together after that. Oren planned the renovations on Avi's house—your house—in his spare time. He intended to leave the Portland firm and set up his practice here once he moved in with Avi, so he was burning a lot of hours with them leading up to the split."

"Out of guilt?"

"Terms of the partnership agreement, actually." Saul turned away, blinking rapidly. "They were so happy."

"But then?"

Saul dashed a hand under his eyes. "They'd planned a big party, a combination housewarming-slash-reveal of the renovated house along with a welcome-to-town for Oren, who was supposed to have officially left the old firm that day. But Oren was held up on his last project—he'd been in Toronto for two months already—and couldn't make it."

I winced. "Ugh. Not the best way to start a new life together."

"No. Someone—I think it might have been Ricky, since he was one of the few people other than the construction crews who Avi and Oren allowed in the house…" He trailed off and met my gaze a little defiantly, as though I might be judging his friends. "The better to maintain the surprise, you understand. Anyway, Ricky overheard Avi having a very heated phone conversation with Oren a couple of days before the party, and the next day, Ricky said Avi seemed… off. Distracted. Occasionally inattentive. Not himself, anyway, but he chalked it up to whatever the argument had been about. The party went on—out in the back yard, with all their friends laughing, eating, drinking, excited about seeing the house. But then, as Avi was mounting the porch steps to usher everyone inside, he just… collapsed."

"Collapsed? Was he dehydrated? Low blood sugar? Overheated?"

"None of those. It wasn't that hot, and he'd been eating and drinking, even if not as enthusiastically as the rest of us. He hit his head on the edge of the deck as he fell, opened a gash on his forehead, but Jerry—my husband, who was still the town doctor at the time as well as the county ME—said he was dead before he fell. Subdural hematoma."

I tried to process this. "Do subdural hematomas develop spontaneously?"

"They can, although it's more likely the result of a blow of some kind. They can develop gradually, however, so it's possible he hit his head days before his death and didn't realize there was any problem." He gazed down at his laced fingers. "Oren never came back to Ghost. Never even set foot in the house. He told me he couldn't bear to be there without Avi, so I should lock up the place and he'd give me further instructions later."

"And did he?"

Saul spread his hands and shrugged. "Just updated his will to make you the sole beneficiary. He was on the deed already—Avi had put him on it when they started the renovation. And since Avi's will left everything to Oren, and Oren left everything to you…"

"I get it." I sighed. "I wish I could have known Oren. Heck, I wish I'd known he existed . But my parents were a pretty self-sufficient couple. They were happy with the three of us and Mom always preferred to look forward instead of back. I think she did mention once after I came out that she was glad she didn't have much to do with her extended family. They weren't very open-minded."

Saul lifted one snow-white eyebrow. "Maybe that's why he left everything to you. If the extended family was intolerant, I'd imagine he wouldn't be thrilled to enrich any of them in any way. Do you suppose he knew you were gay?"

"Maybe? It's possible my mother had some contact with him. But my folks were committed to their nomadic lifestyle by then, so there probably wasn't a lot of chance for a reunion before their accident."

"Accident?"

I swallowed against the threat of tears. "Their RV went off the road someplace in the Rockies."

"Ah. I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago. Almost ten years, when I was still in college."

"About the time Oren lost Avi. That might be why he made you his heir. He knew what it was like to be alone."

I couldn't help the flare of indignation and, yes, anger, because seriously? My hand tightened on my pen, the clip cutting into my palm. "If that's so, why didn't he contact me then?"

Saul reached out, but the desk was too wide for him to get anywhere close to me. He sighed and let his hand drop to the blotter. "Grief is an odd thing, son. We all handle it differently. From what I've heard, Oren turned into a virtual recluse after that. Our only communication was via email or snail mail. He never spoke to anyone in town again, and although he still worked for his Portland firm, he withdrew as a partner and never met with clients again."

I rubbed my chest, trying to ease that twinge of pain at being ignored, abandoned. I knew it wasn't fair—Oren had never met me, and he'd provided for me the best he could, as my parents had been unable to do. And I understood how funky grief could be—I dropped out of school for two years and worked a series of short-term retail gigs while I processed the loss of my parents. Come to think of it, that might be why Oren couldn't find me, even if he'd looked. I'd moved around a lot .

"Could your husband determine anything else about Avi's accident?" I asked. Saul hesitated and I frowned. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

Again, he spread his hands. "Avi was mostly alone in the house all the time by then. He was trying to finish a book—"

"The one that's still subject to a lawsuit?"

"Yes. That one. So, he was busy, working against a deadline while trying to get the house ready for Oren's arrival and the big reveal. I think Ricky, Sofia, and Patrice were the only people he'd let inside. Sofia because she cooked for him, Ricky because he was doing odd jobs and helping with the finishing details on the house."

"And Patrice?"

"She was his beta reader. He'd leave pages for her in the library for her review, but she told me later that he hadn't passed anything along for several weeks. She'd seen nothing of the latest book."

I had a very weird feeling about this. Didn't Marguerite say that ghosts tended to be motivated by significant life events? That they could carry grudges? I'd think somebody coshing you on the head would be a pretty strong incentive to stick around and, well, stick it to them. Although so far, Avi had seemed more sad than angry or vindictive—as long as you didn't count the first library tornado.

"Do you think… That is, would your husband be willing to talk to me about Avi's death?"

"I expect he can do better than that. Let me call and have him pull his folio for you."

"Folio?"

"He's the volunteer librarian and the library doesn't get a lot of foot traffic. He spends his time collating materials on anything that interests him. And Avi's death definitely interested him." He peered at me from under his eyebrows. "He had some concerns about it, too." He picked up the handset on his desk phone. "Go on over to the library now. Thaddeus's papers will still be here when you get back."

"But it's not a Tuesday or Saturday."

Saul chuckled as he punched in the number. "Ah, but you forget. It's open by appointment too. Trust me. He'll be happy to meet with you." He flapped his free hand. "Go. Shoo. We live around the corner from the library, so he'll probably beat you there."

Who was I to argue? I shooed.