Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2) (13 page)

Unfortunately, it was also an idea that would make the Historical Preservation Committee flip its lid.

Gabe stared at the wall, torn between dismay and admiration. Of course, there were a couple of things that could be improved. The menu had too many items, and Gabe would love to take a chainsaw to the ingredients list. Streamlined items that used similar ingredients would go a long way toward increasing efficiency and profit margins. He didn't see a stage, and his brother's music connections made live music a no-brainer for this type of establishment. It wouldn't hurt to actually have legal rights to any of these images either.
 

He wanted to make suggestions as to improvements to the restaurant. Indeed, he was already visualizing their implementation. But he had to restrain himself. Zach wouldn't take his ideas as constructive criticism. He would take them as meddling. And Gabe had to admit that the place had come a long way. Not bad for a snot-nosed little kid.

He shook the thought out of his head. What was he thinking? This was a disaster.
 

He headed toward what used to be the old take-out counter, which now appeared to be a bar. And that wasn't the only thing that had changed. Framed photographs hung next to the liquor license. They were pictures of servicemen, their dates of service neatly written on the mats. All the servicemen had been lost in the line of duty. His dad's best friend was there; Zach had been named after him. The son of the original owner, who'd sold the pizzeria to Gabe's dad, was also there.
 

There was a new picture now.

Cole's picture.

Gabe avoided the image and rummaged through the cabinets until he found the small, rusty metal box that held the first-aid kit. It didn't inspire much confidence, but the alternatives were Banshee Creek Urgent Care or his mother, and neither was an attractive option. He took his shirt off and started rummaging around the kit. He found several tubes of burn medicine, a couple of bandages and, finally, a small tube of antiseptic.
 

He shook his head. Zach had updated the pizzeria; it was time to do the same with the first-aid kit.
 

He opened the hydrogen peroxide, and took out a bandage. Did hydrogen peroxide expire? Surely not.

"You know, I didn't think I needed a 'no shirt, no service' sign," said a familiar voice behind him.
 

He turned to look at Zach, who was wearing a motorcycle jacket. Gabe's heart sank. He knew the jacket wasn't a style statement. "You're not supposed to be riding," he scolded.
 

He knew he shouldn't nag his brother. The road to reconciliation wasn't paved with criticism. But, damn it, he wasn't supposed to be on a motorcycle, not with his injured back and arm. How had Mom not burned that bike? She must be getting soft.

Zach grimaced as he opened the bar fridge. He took out a soda and opened it. "Chill out, I was just giving a girl a ride."
 

Well, that explained it. Zach found women irresistible, and the feeling was usually mutual. "The doctor said I could still exercise," his brother continued.

"Did he approve motorcycle riding?"

The response was a careless shrug. "What other kind of exercise is there?"
 

Walking, for one, or swimming, which would be better for someone with a spinal injury. But Gabe didn't bother explaining that. He didn't want to increase his brother's discomfort.
 

Time to change the subject.

"You've done great things with the place," he said carefully. "How did Dad take all this change?"

That made Zach smile. "It wasn't easy. He's still upset that I took down all the blue-and-white Argentinean stuff and added the Italian tricolor. And don't even get me started on the asiago cheese debacle."

"Asiago, interesting." Fresh asiago cheese stank and was a freaking pain to store. Mixed mozzarella cheese from a restaurant distributor would do wonders for the pizzeria's bottom line. He kept his mouth shut, though. "What does the Historical Preservation Committee think about all this?"
 

"I don't know," Zach said. "I didn't ask them."
 

"But you got a permit, right?" Even his reprobate brother wouldn't be stupid enough to do all this without a permit.
 

"I needed a permit for the outside." Zach finished his soda. "The inside is beyond their jurisdiction."

"The Committee doesn't think anything is beyond their jurisdiction." Gabe assessed his surroundings, counting every horror movie motif. The total was mind-boggling. "They'll go nuts when they see this."

Another shrug. "So what? They can't do anything to me."

 
But they could do a lot of harm to PRoVE, and to Haunted Orchard.
 

Gabe held his tongue though. He didn't want to fight with his brother. For once. "Why did you want to see me?" he asked instead.

"Never mind," Zach drank some more soda and looked at Gabe's cut. "That looks nasty."
 

"It's not that bad."

 
"Mom's going to go ballistic when she sees it."
 

Zach took a bowl of snack packs out of a cabinet. Individually wrapped snack packs? Finally, someone else in the restaurant business realized that sharing bowls was unsanitary. Maybe his brother hadn't been switched at birth after all.
 

"How did you get it?" Zach asked as he took the last macadamia nut pack.
 

Gabe frowned. Macadamia nuts were his favorite. Everyone knew that.

"Did Caine talk you into trying out his new katanas?" his brother continued, trying, and failing, to open the foil bag.
 

"No, this was a bit more dangerous. I went house hunting with Cole's sister." He reached for the snack pack.
 

Zach laughed. "Oh, that's right. Mom is still after you to buy a house. I forgot about that." He pulled the packet out of Gabe's reach. Hell, what were they, five years old? "What did you do to poor Elizabeth? Bark at her too loudly?"

"I didn't do anything. A ginormous chandelier fell on us."

"Not Liam's chandelier?" Zach froze, an alarmed expression on his face, and the macadamia nuts hung in air, gleaming enticingly in the morning sun.

He took advantage of his brother's distraction and claimed the snack pack. "Of course, Liam's chandelier." How many huge chandeliers were there in Banshee Creek?

Zach didn't mourn the loss of the fruits of the macadamia tree. "He's going to blow a gasket."
 

He clearly relished the prospect.

"Not my problem." Gabe opened the bag and shook out a handful of nuts. "Elizabeth gets to tell him about it."

"Well, that's different. I wouldn't mind Elizabeth telling me I had to reattach thirteen hundred crystals. She's not the little goth girl she used to be."
 

Gabe paused, the nuts held tightly in his fist. He didn't like the admiring tone in Zach's voice.
 

At all.

"Yeah, I noticed," he said, a slight edge to his voice.

"Joaquín noticed you noticing," Zach answered, undaunted.
 

"What?" What did their brother have to do with anything?
 

Zach took advantage of Gabe's confusion and stole back the bag of nuts. "He saw you in the parking lot when you tried to sneak out." He smirked as he poured the nuts out. "Mom was real happy to hear about you and Elizabeth."

Great, just great.
 

Gabe tried to think of a bigger disaster than having his mom try to match him with Elizabeth. He failed. "There's no 'me and Elizabeth,' so there's nothing for Mom to be happy about. Let's not let that rumor spread."
 

"Why not? She's a gorgeous blonde with long legs. She's exactly your type."
 

"She's Cole's sister."

"Did you see that movie she made? The one where she ate the live mouse? The costumes were pretty hot."

Gabe remembered. He remembered every inch of Elizabeth in that bikini in high resolution, but he didn't like the thought of his brother enjoying Elizabeth in that costume. "She's Cole's sister," he repeated sternly.
 

Zach shook his head. "Did you hear me? I said string bikini. Alien snakeskin string bikini."

"She's still Cole's sister."

"You
would
care about that, wouldn't you?" More head shaking from Zach.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." His brother emptied the nuts into his hand. "You're you and nothing, not even a gorgeous girl, will change that."
 

He ate the nuts quickly. Sharing was not Zach's strong point. None of the Franco siblings had ever attempted to master the art of sharing.

"What's your point?"

"You're sure there's nothing between you two?"

"Sure I'm sure."

"Good." He threw the empty bag into the trash. "Then there's no reason I can't go after her, right?"

"Wait, what?"

"Hey, it's not every day I get to hook up with an alien princess." With that parting shot, he walked back to the kitchen.
 

Gabe slowly unclenched his fists. He was trying to reconnect with his brother. Punching his face was not going to achieve that.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

E
LIZABETH
WALKED
out of her townhouse and glanced at her car parked across the street. The morning sun gleamed off the metallic orange paint and a fat gray tabby lay on the hood, basking in the glow.

She could drive to work, but the office was a couple of blocks away and the del Sol could use a rest. The tabby could keep its napping spot.

She locked the door to the townhouse, picked up the tote bag full of house listings, and headed to the office. Fall was beginning to assert itself and a sudden breeze made her shiver. She should get her coats out of her parents' attic. Correction, she should've gotten her coats out of her parents' attic several weeks ago.

Ah, the joy of living in The Quarters, the oldest and most painfully historic part of Banshee Creek. The houses were quaint but also tiny with two microscopic bedrooms, a cupboard with plumbing that passed for a bath, and nonexistent closets. Unlike the rest of the town, the houses in The Quarters didn't have brick fronts or slate roof tiles, only humble wood siding and cedar shakes. They also didn't have any legends or eerie stories. Servants had no time for hocus-pocus.

She loved her house. She'd invested several years of film royalties on the crumbling pile of sticks. It had heaps of charm, including a cozy fire stove for heat, and a rustic stone wall. True, every autumn she had to pack her summer stuff, drag it to her parents' house, and bring back her coats and sweaters. Then she had to reverse the process every spring, but a fragmented wardrobe was a small price to pay for historic appeal. For now, she'd accessorized her summer dress with warm black tights she'd found in the back of her drawer—with only a minuscule, practically invisible hole in the back of the leg—and a gray cardigan. Not the most stylish combination, but she had no clients to see today. She smiled with satisfaction. Today, that was her mother's job.
 

She balanced the heavy tote and fished her phone out of her purse, noting with a frown that her father had steadfastly ignored all her phone calls. He didn't seem very interested in the news that his wife appeared to be recovering.

Typical.
 

But she didn't have time to deal with that right now. She had one last unpleasant chore she wanted to cross off her to-do list before reaching the office. Dialing, she set off for Main Street at a brisk pace. The young cherry trees were starting to shed, and their leaves fell like festive confetti onto the polished cobblestones. Phone held to her ear, she approached Main Street. She needed her Banshee Creek Bakery spiced latte fix.

"Hey," Holly answered the phone curtly, sounding stressed.
 

Elizabeth could hear a cartoon theme song in the background. Good. Holly's toddler, Ben, seemed to be occupied. Elizabeth steeled herself. "I didn't sell the house," she blurted out, bracing to face her friend's disappointment.

A blast of cheery music greeted her announcement. Someone was doing unnatural things to a coconut tree.

"Of course you didn't," her friend replied with a snort. "What were you even thinking, trying to sell it to Gabe, of all people?"

"He needs a house," Elizabeth replied in a defensive tone.

"He doesn't need
that
house. Don't you remember our freshman year?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Gabe actually went inside the house, Elizabeth. On Halloween night." A tinge of horror colored her words. "Liam says Gabe and Cole looked pretty spooked that night. They saw the stains," she hissed dramatically.

"What are you talking about? The floors are spotless." She felt her temples starting to throb. Again? She was having this conversation again?
 

"Liam says Cole told everyone in the senior class that the marble was drenched in blood."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Her brother, God rest his soul, had been such a drama queen. "Cole was a very creative liar, Holly. You and Liam fixed the house. Did
you
see any stains?"

"Gosh, Elizabeth. They only show up at midnight on Halloween. Everyone knows that." Holly's voice was firm. "That house has been unlucky for a long time. I mean, look at you. I heard that, thanks to the house, you lost a client and almost lost your head."

Great, she was now another Hagen House victim. Wonderful.

"Well, the client is my mom's problem now."

"She's back at work? How did that happen?"

"Gabe didn't give her much choice."

She felt a bit guilty about that, but hey, it was all for the best, right? It would be her mom's first house hunt in—she paused to calculate—two years.
 

That was a long time. She had friends who'd managed to get married, have babies, and run
 
triathlons in that time. Folks achieved educational degrees in two years. Hell, you could run for Congress twice, almost.