Kit
Literally everyone is talking about the farm! Are you losing your shit?
A heady zip tore through me. The social media post must have gained some traction with the locals. I quickly opened the app to check, and my phone nearly tumbled from my hand.
Not justsomeattention,lotsof attention.
There were thousands of likes and comments under the photo of my muddy boots in the pumpkin patch. The page even had real followers.
I was officially losing my shit. If I was going to be a public spectacle, I might as well put on a show.
I dialed my little sister, and she answered on the second ring with a squeal.
Holding the phone from my ear, I grimaced, though a wide smile replaced it.
“Literally everyone is talking about it,” Kit said.
“I had no idea ...” I continued to scroll through the hundreds of comments.
“No going back now, huh?” She laughed.
“This is incredible.” I grinned as I scrolled. There was never an option tonotdo what I set out to do. “Do you want to hang out tonight? I heard there’s a band playing at the Lantern.”
“Can’t,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting with the Keepers.”
The historical society was 90 percent social club and 10percent nonprofit organization. With a mix of old and young, being a part of the Keepers was a privilege, and somewhere deep inside me, I had missed connecting with other women.
“She is everywhere and she is nowhere,” I said with mock reverence, repeating the warning we’d heard over and over in our childhood. It was practically the mantra of the historical society.
We both giggled. Growing up in Star Harbor meant you were forced to live in the Lady’s shadow.Everythingrevolved around her and the legend. A few times I even bought into the idea she was real, but hard evidence of an apparition was hard to come by.
“The meeting starts in an hour, if you want to come. This month we’re working on needlepoint, but we just started,” she offered.
I didn’t know a single thing about needlepoint, but that wouldn’t matter. With a resolute nod, I grinned. “Save me a spot. I’ll be there.”
Without waiting to say goodbye, I ended the call with Kit and scrambled to my feet. A thrill ran through me. I’d missed this—the friendship, our community, the way Star Harbor wrapped around you whether you liked it or not.
After five minutes of scrubbing, I gave up on trying to get all the dirt from under my chipped nails. I slipped on a long, cornflower blue sundress and simple flip-flops. The summer sun was sagging against the tree line when I stepped onto the front porch and frowned at the empty driveway.
I really need a car.
With a determined nod, I turned myself around and kicked off my sandals. It was only a couple of miles to walk into town, but a pair of sneakers would save my alreadyaching feet. After I changed shoes, I slipped the long strap of my purse over my head and headed in the direction of the main road. As I passed the Drifted Spirit Inn, delicate instrumental music floated across the evening air.
I paused, taking in the gorgeous building up close. Set against the trees, its moody exterior was warm and inviting against the slashes of crimson-and-gold sunset. It was the kind of place that welcomed you inside, tempting you with the promise of a well-worn chair and a cracked-spine paperback.
Too bad its owner was such a thorn in my side; otherwise I might have let curiosity get the best of me and walk inside to poke around.
Instead, I filed it away as one more thing Callum Blackwood had ruined for me. Right betweenthe peace and quiet of my own homeandthe universal appeal of a strong jawline.
With Cal’s brooding face flashing in my mind, I stomped away with freshly renewed determination. I made it only a mile down the road before the overhead trees blocked out any remaining sunlight. The air was warm, but thick with tension. My ears pricked as I listened for any signs of life on the desolate road. The only sounds were the soft thud of my sneakers against the pavement.
Everyone knew that traveling alone on any stretch of quiet country road in Star Harbor was risky. Generally speaking, the town itself was very safe. Crime rates were nearly nonexistent, but it wasn’t a lurking madman or criminal mastermind that had me nervously peeking over my shoulder.
It was a ghost.
She is everywhere and she is nowhere.
A chill tickled my back, and I pulled my arms aroundmy middle. Light was swallowed up by the swaying trees that lined the roadway. My ears tuned to every creak and snap of twigs. A rustle of leaves to my right formed a lump in my throat, and I locked my eyes ahead of me, refusing to peer into the darkened tree line.
