Wallace jerked his head up. “What?”

  Nelson smiled sadly. “When you first arrived, I thought you were just another visitor. You’d stay for a little while, and then you’d see the light.” He chuckled. “Forgive the expression. Clichéd, I know. Hugo would do what he does, and you’d move on without muss or fuss, even though you were adamant you wouldn’t. You’d be like all the others who’d come before you.”

  “I am.”

  “Perhaps,” Nelson allowed. “But that doesn’t discount what you’ve done in your time here. The work you’ve put in to making yourself a better person.” He shuffled toward Wallace, setting the cane against the table Wallace was leaning on. Wallace didn’t flinch when Nelson reached up and cupped his face. His hands were warm. “Be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Wallace. You’ve earned that right.”

  “I’m scared,” Wallace whispered. “I don’t mean to be, but I am.”

  “I know you are,” Nelson said. “I am too. But as long as we’re together, we can help each other until the end. Our strength will be your strength. We won’t carry you because you don’t need us to. But we’ll be by your side.” Then, “Can I ask you something?”

  Wallace nodded as Nelson dropped his hands.

  “If things were different, and you were still … here. I don’t know how. Say you took a trip on your own, and you ended up in our little town. You found your way to this tea shop, and Hugo was as he was, and you were as you were. What would you do?”

  Wallace laughed wetly. “I’d probably make a mess of things.”

  “Of course you would. But that’s the beauty of it, don’t you think? Life is messy and terrible and wonderful, all at the same time. What would you do if Hugo was before you and there was nothing stopping you? Life or death or anything else. What would you do?”

  Wallace closed his eyes. “Everything.”

  * * *

  Depression hit on the second morning, brief though it was. Wallace allowed himself the sadness that stirred within him, remembering how Hugo had told him grief wasn’t only for the living. He stood on the back deck, watching the sunrise. He could hear Hugo and Mei moving around in the kitchen. Hugo had wanted to close the shop for the day, but Wallace told him to go on as he always did. He had Mei on his side, and Hugo finally relented, though he wasn’t happy about it.

  The sunlight filtered through the trees, melting the thin layer of frost on the ground. He gripped the railing as the light stretched toward him. It touched his hands first. And then his wrists, and arms, and finally his face. It warmed him. It calmed him. He hoped wherever he was going that there’d still be the sun and the moon and the stars. He’d spent a majority of his life with his head turned down. It seemed only fair that eternity would allow him to raise his face toward the sky.

  The sadness receded, though it didn’t leave entirely. It still bubbled underneath the surface, but he floated on top of it now. This was a different kind of grief, he knew, but it was still his all the same.

  He accepted that.

  What will you do with the time you have left?

  And that’s when he knew.

  * * *

  “Are you out of your damn mind?” Mei snapped at him. She stood in the kitchen, glaring at him as if Wallace were the stupidest person she’d ever laid eyes on. Hugo manned the register out front, the shop busy.

  He shrugged. “Probably? But I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  She threw up her hands. “Nothing involving Desdemona Tripplethorne is the right thing to do. She’s a terrible person, and when she finally bites the big one, I’m going to—”

  “Help her like you’ve helped everyone else if she gets assigned to you?”

  Mei deflated. “Of course I will. But man, I won’t like it. And you can’t make me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I know you don’t care for her, Mei. And you have very good reason not to. But you said Nancy trusts her, for whatever reason. If it came from you or Hugo, she might not listen. At least with Desdemona, we’d have a chance. And if what I have in mind works, she won’t be here very long.” He shook his head. “I won’t do this, though, without your okay.”

  “Why?”

  She was really going to make him say it, wasn’t she? “Because you matter.”

  She startled, a slow smile blooming on her face. “I matter?”

  He groaned. “Shut up.”

  She looked away, though he could tell she was pleased. “Hugo’s not going to be happy about this.”

  “I know. But the point of all of this is to help as many people as you can, right? And Nancy needs help, Mei. She’s stuck, and it’s killing her. Maybe it won’t work, and it won’t make anything better. But what if it does? Don’t we owe it to her to try?”

  Mei wiped her eyes. “I think I liked you better when you were an asshole.”

  He laughed. “I like you too, Mei.”

  He wrapped his arms around her when she lunged at him, holding her close.

  * * *

  “No,” Hugo said.

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “Told you,” Mei muttered as she pushed her way through the double doors. “I’ll watch the register.”

  “She needs this, Hugo,” Wallace said as the doors swung shut. “Something, anything to show her that all is not lost, even though it can seem that way.”

  “She’s fragile,” Hugo said. “Breakable. If it went wrong, I don’t want to think what that would do to her.”

  “We owe it to her to try,” Wallace said. He held up his hand as Hugo started to retort. “Not just you, Hugo. All of us. What happened to her and Lea isn’t your fault. I know you think it is, and I know you think you should have done more, but what the other Reaper did is on him, not you. Still, it’s heavy. Grief. You know that better than anyone. It’ll crush you if you let it. And she’s being crushed. If I were where she is now, I’d hope someone would do the same for me. Wouldn’t you?”

  “She might not even agree,” Hugo muttered, refusing to look at Wallace. He was frowning, brow knitted, shoulders hunched. “Nothing happened the first time.”

  “I know,” Wallace said. “But it’s going to be different this time around. You knew Lea, at least for a little while. You spoke with her. You cared for her.”

  Wallace thought Hugo would still refuse. Instead, he said, “What are we going to do?”

  * * *

  On the third evening, Hugo switched the sign in the window to CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE EVENT.

  “Are you sure about this?” Nelson whispered, watching his grandson move around the tea shop, preparing for their guests.

  “As much as I can be,” Wallace whispered back.

  “A delicate matter requires delicate hands.”

  “You don’t think we can do it?”

  “That’s not what I meant. You’re blunt and sharp, but you’ve learned a bit of grace, Wallace. Kindness and grace.”

  “Because of you,” Wallace said. “You and Mei and Hugo.”

  Nelson grinned at him. “You think so?”

  He did. “I wish—”

  But whatever Wallace wished stayed within him as lights filled the windows.

  “They’re here,” Mei said as Hugo went back into the kitchen. “You’re serious about this?”

  “As a heart attack,” Wallace said, Nelson chuckling beside him.

  He heard car doors opening and closing, and Desdemona speaking loudly, though he couldn’t make out the words. He knew who she was speaking to. If they’d done what Hugo had asked, they’d driven separately. It was now or never.

  Squat Man opened the door. Desdemona entered first, head held high, dressed as ridiculously as she’d been before. Her towering hat was black and covered with lace, her frizzy red hair tied back into a thick braid that hung over one shoulder. Her dress was black-and-white striped, the hem just below her knees. Her legs were sheathed in red stockings, and her boots looked as if they’d been recently shined.

  “Yes,” she breathed as she all but sashayed into the tea shop, removing her gloves. “I can feel it. It’s like it was the last time. The spirits are active.” She turned her head slowly, taking in the room. Her gaze slid over Nelson and Wallace without stopping. “I believe we’re going to get somewhere. Mei, how lovely to see you’re still … alive.”

  Mei glared at her. “Grave robbing is illegal.”

  Desdemona blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Whatever grave you desecrated to get that dress will—”

  Nancy appeared in the doorway. Squat Man and Thin Man crowded behind her, looking as if they’d rather be anywhere else. Nancy gripped the strap of her purse tightly, her expression pinched, her breaths light and quick. She looked exhausted, but determined in ways Wallace hadn’t seen before. She stepped into the tea shop slowly, biting her lip as if nervous.

  Hugo came through the doors, a tray of tea in his hands.

  “Hugo,” Desdemona said, looking him up and down. “I was surprised to receive your invitation, especially after you returned my Ouija board to me without so much as a note attached to the post. It’s about time you started appreciating my work. There is more to this world than we can see. It’s heartening to know you’re beginning to understand that.”

  “Desdemona,” Hugo said in greeting, setting the tray down on a table. “I’ll take your word on that.” He turned to Nancy. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s a little later than when you’re normally here, but I only want to help.”

  Nancy glanced at the tray of tea before looking back at Hugo. “So you say.” Her voice was rough and gravelly, as if she wasn’t used to speaking. Wallace ached at the sound of it. “Desdemona said you invited us here.”

  “I did,” Hugo said. “I can’t promise anything will come of it. And even if it doesn’t, I want you to know that you’re always welcome. Whatever you need.”

  She nodded tightly but didn’t respond.

  Squat Man and Thin Man began to set up. Thin Man pulled out a camera, a newer model as the last one had been broken. He positioned it on the tripod, pointing it toward where Desdemona would be sitting. Squat Man had the same device he’d had before, switching it on. It squealed almost immediately, the lights flashing brightly. He frowned down at it, banging it against his hand before shaking his head. “I don’t even know why I use this stupid thing,” he muttered before waving it around the room.

  Thin Man pulled the Ouija board from his bag, setting it on the table along with a new planchette. The last one had burned in the fireplace, becoming nothing but ash and smoke thanks to Wallace. Next to the Ouija board, he set down the feather quill and loose sheets of paper.

  Desdemona pulled out a chair for Nancy. “Sit here, dear. That way, you’ll still be in frame but won’t be blocking me.”

  “Oh boy,” Nelson muttered as Mei scoffed.

  Nancy did as asked, clutching her purse in her lap. She didn’t look at any of them, quietly refusing the offer of tea from Hugo as Desdemona took a seat next to her.

  Desdemona smiled at her. “I know we didn’t quite make contact the last time you and I were here. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen now. When we came a couple of weeks ago, the spirits were … active. I don’t think any of them were Lea, but you weren’t with us then. It’ll help having you here to focus. I have a feeling today will bring the answers you seek.” She reached over and touched Nancy’s elbow. “If you need a break, or want to stop entirely, say the word.”

  Nancy nodded. She looked down at the Ouija board. “You think we’ll get something this time?”

  “I hope so,” Desdemona said. “Either through the board or automatic writing. But if we don’t, we’ll try again. You remember what to do, right? Direct your questions toward me, keeping them to yes or no answers if you can. I’ll ask whatever you want, and if all goes well, the spirit energy will run through me. Be patient, especially if another spirit is trying to speak first.”

  “Okay,” Nancy whispered as she sniffled.

  Desdemona glanced at Thin Man. “Is everything ready?”

  “As it’ll ever be,” Thin Man mumbled as he pressed a button on the camera. It beeped, and a red light began to blink. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen from his bag. He looked around nervously, as if remembering the last time they’d been here, and the chaos that’d ensued.

  “And as we discussed,” Desdemona said to Nancy, “we’re not streaming live per your request. We’ll post the video later, but only after you’ve seen the edited version and agreed to it. Anything you don’t want shown, we’ll keep to ourselves.”

  Nancy gripped her purse tighter.

  “Do you have any questions before we begin? If you do, that’s okay. You can ask me anything you want. I won’t start until you’re ready.”

  She shook her head.

  Desdemona wiggled her shoulders, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. She cracked her knuckles before settling her hands on the planchette in the middle of the Ouija board. “Spirits! I command that you speak with me! I know you’re there. This will allow us to communicate with each other. Do you understand? There is nothing to fear. We aren’t here to harm you. If you would prefer the pen, give me a sign.”

  The planchette didn’t move. Neither did the pen.

  “It’s okay,” Desdemona said to Nancy. “It takes a little time.” She raised her voice again. “I am here with Nancy Donovan. She believes the spirit of her daughter, Lea Donovan, resides in this place, for reasons I’m still not quite clear on, but no matter. If Lea Donovan is here, we need to hear from her. If there are any other spirits, we ask that you step aside and allow Lea her moment to say what she must.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Nelson asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Wallace said. “We wait.”

  For the next hour, Desdemona tried all manner of questions, some sweet and coaxing, others more forceful and demanding. Nothing changed. The planchette remained still.

  Desdemona grew frustrated, Thin Man covering up a yawn with the back of his hand as Squat Man carried the spirit box around the room, the machine silent.

  Eventually, Desdemona sat back in her chair with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, glaring down at the Ouija board. “I really thought something would happen.” She forced a smile. “It doesn’t always work. They can be a fickle thing, spirits. They only do what they want when they want.”

  Nancy nodded, though Wallace could see how hurt she was by it. He ached at the pain radiating from her, silently begging her to hold on just a little bit longer.

  Nancy didn’t move as Thin Man and Squat Man packed away the Ouija board and the camera. Desdemona spoke quietly to Nancy, holding her hands, telling her that she couldn’t give up, that they’d try again as soon as they could. “Give it time,” she said quietly. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Nancy nodded, expression slack and blank.

  She rose from her chair as the others headed for the door, holding her purse against her chest like a shield. Thin Man and Squat Man left without looking back. Desdemona paused at the doorway, glancing at Hugo. “You know there’s something here.”

  Hugo didn’t respond.

  “Come, dear,” Desdemona said to Nancy. “You can follow us back into town, so we know you’re safe.”

  Mei cocked her head as if confused, glancing back and forth between Desdemona and Nancy.

  Hugo cleared his throat. “I’d like to have a word with Nancy in private, if she’ll allow it.”

  Desdemona narrowed her eyes. “Anything you want to say to her, you can say with me present.”

  “If that’s what she wants,” Hugo said. “If not, but she wants to share what I tell her, then that’s okay too.”

  “Nancy?” Desdemona asked.

  Nancy studied Hugo before nodding. “It’s … it’s fine. Go. I won’t be long.”

  Desdemona hesitated, looking as if she was going to argue. Instead, she sighed. “All right. If you’re sure.”

  “I am,” Nancy said.

  Desdemona squeezed her shoulder and left the tea shop.

  Silence fell, all of them waiting until the sound of a car started up, the engine rumbling. It faded, the clock ticking, ticking.

  “Well?” Nancy asked, voice trembling. “What do you want?”

  Hugo took in a deep breath, letting it out slow. “Your daughter isn’t here.”

  Nancy recoiled as if slapped. Angry tears filled her eyes. “What?”

  “She’s not here,” Hugo said gently. “She’s gone to a better place. A place where nothing can hurt her again.”

  “How dare you,” Nancy whispered. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She took a step back toward the door. “I thought you’d…” She shook her head furiously. “I’m not going to stand here and let you be so cruel. I can’t.” Her chest hitched. “I won’t.” With one last glare, she turned toward the door.

  She gripped the doorknob and Wallace knew it was now or never. Alan—frightened, doomed Alan—had shown him the way. Nancy burned like fire, her grief a never-ending fuel. Whatever she was—like Mei or something else—she’d heard him when Alan had screamed her name.

  Which is why Wallace shouted, “Nancy!”

  She froze, back stiff, shoulders hunched near her ears.

  “Nancy!”

  She turned slowly, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Did you … did you hear that?”

  “I did,” Hugo said. He held up his hands as if calming a spooked animal. “And I promise there is nothing to be afraid of.”

  She barked out a laugh, wet and harsh. “You don’t get to tell me what I—”

  She gasped when Wallace grabbed a chair, lifting it up off the ground. The blood drained from her face, hand going to her throat. Wallace didn’t bring the chair to her, not wanting to frighten her more than she already was.

  Instead, he carried the chair behind the counter toward the blackboard. “Careful, Wallace,” Nelson warned. “Don’t give her more than she’s ready for.”

  “I know,” Wallace said through gritted teeth, nudging Apollo out of the way as he jumped around him, trying to figure out why Wallace was carrying a chair. He seemed to want to help, biting down on one of the chair legs before getting distracted by his tail.