from saying them aloud.
Bartholomew followed them to the car. He’d known the ghost for some time now; it still unnerved Liam when he simply misted through doors. The physiology was intriguing. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to believe in ghosts. Bartholomew could sit on a chair, but he misted, blended, faded—whatever!—right through doors. He loved boats, hated the water. He’d been around nearly two hundred years, and he knew the answers to many questions, but he didn’t know a great deal that Liam felt a ghost should know. It was a different existence, Bartholomew believed. He didn’t know every ghost—just as Liam didn’t know every living, breathing human. Ghosts were still the essence of people. They were good, bad, clever, dedicated, lost…greedy, generous, loyal, traitorous. That’s the way it was. But most of the time, they stayed behind because of a passion or a need. A passion for revenge, or justice—to save the life of a loved one or to right a terrible wrong.
Liam liked Bartholomew. But he wasn’t sure he wanted him around right now.
As he pulled the car around the circular drive, he caught a glimpse of the ghost in the rearview mirror.
Bartholomew was staring solemnly at the house, his gaze intent. He was searching for something.
Liam paused and stared up at the house himself.
He thought of the other night. The house seemed to have a life of its own. Beneath the moonlight, constantly shadowed by clouds, it seemed to breathe, and to watch, and to wait.
“What is it?” Kelsey asked him.
“Nothing.” He paused, his foot on the brake. “You’re sure you want to come back here, stay here alone?” he asked.
“It’s my house now,” she said quietly, staring at it. “With all that it holds!” she added, and smiled.
O’Hara’s was charming, and it hadn’t changed a bit—at least, not in Kelsey’s memory.
They entered a large open area with high-top tables scattered toward the rear; the space allowed for dancing and was right in front of a stage area that could be set for karaoke or live music. Tonight, rock music was playing, but Kelsey saw a sign that advertised “Katie-oke” four nights a week. If “Katie-oke” was going on that night, it either hadn’t started or Katie was taking a break.
“There,” Liam said.
“I see.”
She had wondered if she would recognize anyone; in the time she had been gone, many people must have come through Key West—and possibly moved on. It could be a city that was warm, like a true neighborhood, yet it was also a city of transients. And most of her friends had been young when she had seen them last, and surely they had changed.
It was easy to see that David Beckett was there, seated at a far booth on the restaurant side, to the left of the dance area. He resembled Liam, or Liam resembled him. He was a tall man with a face made of rugged angles, striking eyes. Katie had grown up beautifully, her red hair having darkened to a gorgeous hue. Sean was easy to recognize, as well—he was a far more masculine version of Katie, and though Katie was definitely feminine, with fine features, they both resembled their uncle, Jamie O’Hara. Kelsey didn’t recognize the young woman with Sean, but they were obviously together. She thought she recognized the woman with a tray standing by the table, and even the others who were there: another young couple who looked like flower children. His hair was as curly and long as hers was, and they both wore wire-rimmed glasses.
As they neared the table, unseen, Kelsey heard the last man at the table talking. He was very long and lean, but had a rich voice.
One that she thought she knew.
“They should really just bulldoze that house—let a major-league hotelier come in and put up one of the mega hotels—well, you know, a within-limits mega hotel,” he said, slipping an arm around the waitress who hovered by the table. “No more than two stories, of course—you can’t ruin the horizon.”
“Jonas,” Katie O’Hara argued, “don’t be silly. That’s an historic house. Why would anyone want to destroy it?”
“Well, please. Who would want to keep it?” Jonas asked.
Liam, his hand at the small of Kelsey’s back, cleared his throat.
“Actually, Kelsey hasn’t decided what she’s doing with it yet.”
It was almost funny, the way the eight people at or near the table swung around to stare at them.
It was Katie who gasped, then leaped off her bar stool with pleasure. “Kelsey! Oh, my God. You came home. How wonderful to see you!”
Her eyes were sparkling, and her words were sincere. She came forward, offering a hug, and Kelsey was glad to accept it. She drew away. “I’m Katie. I’m sorry—you might not have recognized me. Katie O’Hara.”
“Of course, Katie, I remember you well, and thank you for the greeting,” Kelsey said. By then, the men at the table were standing.
“Let’s see who you remember, and who you don’t,” Liam said. “My cousin, David. You can’t miss Sean O’Hara. And I don’t know if you ever met Vanessa, though she’s been down now and again over the years. And these are our friends Ted and Jaden. And Clarinda, and Jonas.”
David and Sean greeted her like a long-lost kid sister, Vanessa was charming but reserved, and Jaden and Ted were as loving as any good flower children might be. Clarinda welcomed her, and Jonas quickly apologized. “Wow, I’m sorry. I mean, it is my opinion, but—” He broke off and grimaced. “You remember me, don’t you? We had a house just across from you near the wharf. I still have it. It’s called the Salvage Inn now. I run it as a bed-and-breakfast.”
Kelsey grinned. “Yes, of course I remember you. You groaned anytime I was over at your house with either of my folks.”
“Okay, well, I’m afraid I have a few years on you. You were a pest back then.”
“Not that much of a pest,” David Beckett said, “I remember really liking you. I can’t believe that you’re an adult now.”
Kelsey seldom flushed, but she did so. David Beckett had an amazing sense of class and kindness.
Like Liam.
But her mother had always said that their grandfather, Craig Beckett, was one of the most honorable men she had ever known. He had taught his progeny well, she thought.
She needed to take a step back; this did feel like old-home week. And she wasn’t staying. She had started life over again, and she was comfortable where she was. She loved her work, her neighborhood, and she wasn’t sure why she had come, other than guilt and a sense of debt, and she was very afraid of falling back into…she didn’t know what. Maybe the oddity of belonging to the house and being Cutter Merlin’s granddaughter.
“Thank you, David. And Jonas, it’s really okay—I wasn’t so fond of you back then, either,” she said, and the group laughed.
“Have a seat—I’ll get you a Guinness,” Liam said.
“Oh, wait! I’m supposedly working,” Clarinda said.
“It’s
