Blue Dahlia

right time, for either of them.
    There was more than one ghost in this house, he knew.
    “I expect he loved her a lot, and she loved him. She told me how she did.”
    “He can’t come back. I thought maybe he would, even though she said he couldn’t. I thought when the lady started coming, he could come, too. But he hasn’t.”
    Could there be anything harder for a child to face, he wondered, than losing a parent? Here he was, a grown man, and he couldn’t imagine the grief of losing one of his.
    “Doesn’t mean he isn’t watching over you. I believe stuff like that. When people who love us have to go away, they still look out for us. Your dad’s always going to look out for you.”
    “Then he’d see you kiss Mom, because he’d watch over her, too.”
    “I expect so.” Logan nodded. “I like to think he doesn’t mind, because he’d know I want her to be happy. Maybe when we get to know each other some better, you won’t mind too much either.”
    “Do you make Mom’s heart feel funny?”
    “I sure hope so, because I’d hate to feel like this all by myself. I don’t know if I’m saying this right. I never had to say it before, or think about it. But if we decide to be happy together, all of us, your dad’s still your dad, Gavin. Always. I want you to understand I know that, and respect that. Man-to-man.”
    “Okay.” He smiled slowly when Logan offered a hand. When he shook it, the smile became a grin. “Anyway, I like you better than the other guy.”
    “Good to know.”
    Luke was tucked in and sleeping when they came back in. Logan merely lifted his eyebrows at Stella’s questioning look, then stepped back as she readied Gavin for bed.
    Deliberately he took her hand as they stepped into the hall. “Ask him if you want to know,” he said before she could speak. “It’s his business.”
    “I just don’t want him upset.”
    “He seem upset to you when you tucked him in?”
    “No.” She sighed. “No.”
    At the top of the stairs, the cold blew through them. Protectively, Logan’s arm came around her waist, pulling her firmly to his side. It passed by, with a little lash, like a flicked whip.
    Seconds later, they heard the soft singing.
    “She’s angry with us,” Stella whispered when he turned, prepared to stride back. “But not with them. She won’t hurt them. Let’s leave her be. I’ve got a baby monitor downstairs, so I can hear them if they need me.”
    “How do you sleep up here?”
    “Well, strangely enough. First it was because I didn’t believe it. Now it’s knowing that in some strange way, she loves them. The night they stayed at my parents’, she came into my room and cried. It broke my heart.”
    “Ghost talk?” Roz asked. “That’s just what I had in mind.” She offered them wine she’d already poured. Then pursed her lips when Stella switched on the monitor. “Strange to hear that again. It’s been years since I have.”
    “I gotta admit,” Logan said with his eyes on the monitor, “creeps me out some. More than some, to tell the truth.”
    “You get used to it. More or less. Where’s Hayley?” she asked Roz.
    “She was feeling tired—and a little blue, a little cross, I think. She’s settled in upstairs with a book and a big tall glass of decaffeinated Coke. I’ve already talked to her about this, so ...” She gestured to seats. On the coffee table was a tray of green grapes, thin crackers, and a half round of Brie.
    She sat herself, plucked a grape. “I’ve decided to do something a little more active about our permanent house-guest.”
    “An exorcism?” Logan asked, sending a sideways glance toward the monitor and the soft voice singing out of it.
    “Not quite that active. We want to find out about her history and her connection to this house. Seems to me we’re not making any real progress, mostly because we can’t really figure out a direction.”
    “We haven’t been able to spend a lot of time on it,” Stella pointed out.
    “Another reason for outside help. We’re busy, and we’re amateurs. So why not go to somebody who knows what to do and has the time to do it right?”
    “Concert’s over for the night.” Logan gestured when the monitor went silent.
    “Sometimes she comes back two or three times.” Stella offered him a cracker. “Do you know somebody, Roz? Someone you want to take this on?”
    “I don’t know yet. But I’ve made some inquiries, using the idea that I want to do a formal sort of genealogy