Clarke Leith Wilkes was absolutely off his rocker—no doubt about it. I guess I understood why he had shown up at Toades to tell me about what he had found in the file. Whether I liked it or not, I was part of this weird Wilkes family saga thanks to both Leith and his dad. I had been the one who put this on Leith’s radar in the first place, after all. But asking me to participate in some... fake dating farce? “I think you should do it,” Earnest said from the corner of the kitchen after Leith left. “It sounds entertaining.” He’d eavesdropped on the whole conversation. I k ept giving him urgent looks—trying to communicate for him to either buzz off or knock something over and distract Leith from his batshit ask. Of course, he was no help. “I’m sure it would be entertaining for you,” I said. “You’d just get to sit back and watch it all unfold with no consequences.” Earnest nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, and Toades would also get a new roof. So it’s a win-win for me, really.” “Not everything is about you, Earnest.” “Just most things,” he joked. He seemed to be in a particularly good mood this morning. Maybe that meant I wouldn’t have to think of a secret come six p. m. “You never have any fun.” “I have fun,” I shot back. “What’s the last fun thing you did?” Earnest snapped his ghostly fingers. “Quickly.” I opened my mouth to fling something back at him, but nothing came out. Well, Earnest got my ass, I guess. I k ept racking my brain. Maybe going through my parents’ basement with Collins before she left? Or Sadie’s birthday slash goodbye party? Even though that party was the thing that got me into this whole mess, I had fun at the time. With Leith. I had fun on Friday, too—even though I was loathe to admit it. I shook that thought out of my head quickly. “I fixed the label maker,” I said. “Which might not be fun on its own, but it implies future fun since I’ll get to label a bunch of shit.” A year ago, that would’ve been true, at least. Recently, the things I used to love to do didn’t call to me in the same way. Like, I still did them, and they sparked something, but the spark always went out before it could turn into a flame. I’d never been someone who just went through the motions. I liked having hobbies and working hard and checking things off my to-do list. Now, though, those things inspired more dread than excitement. “C’mon, Clarke. Live a little.” Well, that was rich coming from a dead person. The buzz in my head was getting louder, which meant that the ghosts in Toades were getting closer to me—congregating to listen. They didn’t always appear in a way that I could see, but I could feel them in a way that made me want to crawl out of my skin. “I honestly don’t know how you could think that would be a good idea. Since we’re dealing with actual legal shit, doesn’t that make this fraud or something?” “Eh, we all die eventually anyway.” Easy for him to say. Again, dead. “And I didn’t say it would be a good idea,” Earnest corrected. “I said I think you should do it. It’s the stories like this that you’ll tell when you’re knocking on death’s door—the kind that make people laugh, make them hold you close to their heart. “I didn’t live long enough to have any of those, you know.” Earnest’s voice went soft. Oh god, not the ghost guilt again. Why was he so good at it? It was easy to forget that Earnest was just a kid, and he died chasing after the thing that he thought was most important in this world: love. I took a sip of my coffee, which was strong and a little bitter. Just like me.
“Does that smile mean you’ll do it?” I shook my head. “But I’ll find other stories to tell. Now, stop distracting me. Some of us have jobs.” * * * About two hours later, my mom came into the shop for the day. I was set up in what used to be the formal living room when Toades was someone’s home. Now it had an old writing desk where we rang up customers—where I was currently working—and all our jewelry and finer things were in display cases. “Good morning,” Joanie said as she walked in the room. Her tone was flat—something special that seemed reserved for me these days. She took off her long, black wool coat to reveal a long, black duster with oversize red roses on it. Every time she moved, her jewelry—a multitude of rings, bracelets, and necklaces—clinked together in some way. A walking wind chime—just like the ones outside. “Morning,” I said quietly. I was working on sorting through a box of knickknacks that Collins had sent back from her and Brady’s travels. It was taking me much longer than usual. My sister wasn’t as good at picking out the valuable stuff as I was, but she still had a good eye—way better than the average person. “I just put on a second pot of coffee a little while ago, so it should still be hot.” I wondered if she knew that I only put on a second pot for her, a gesture of goodwill that I hoped meant we wouldn’t descend into another argument. “Downs an entire pot of coffee daily and wonders why she can’t sle ep,” my mom said, sighing. Before she nearly lost the source of both our livelihoods, she would’ve said that with humor and affection. Now, though, it was ste eped in disdain. It made me want to defend myself—tell her I didn’t drink the entire pot—just most of it. But then I would have to tell her that Leith was here this morning, and then I’d have to explain why Leith was here. Well, I’d have to lie about why Leith was here, and I’m not a very good liar. “Anything good in there?” My mom nodded toward the box. She only seemed halfway interested. “Yeah, actually,” I said. “A few Kenner Star Wars toys that will do well on the website.” None of them were still in boxes, so they wouldn’t fetch top dollar, but we could still probably get a couple hundred for each. I wanted to be more excited about that. I scanned my entire body for some sort of enthusiasm, but I couldn’t find it. I took charge of the online portion of Toades after my epic New York City failure: I got an entry-level coordinator job with an ad agency after I graduated with a degree in marketing. I only lasted a year. Maybe I would’ve done better if I’d picked a smaller city—like Portland or Minneapolis or Salt Lake, but I never did anything halfway. I felt so... disconnected there—so cramped and confined. It was like I was living in a giant MRI machine. So I crawled back home with my tail between my legs, but at least I could breathe again. My mom and dad welcomed me home with open arms—at first, anyway. I think they thought that it was just a temporary setback and that with a little tender loving care, I’d be ready to get back to the great big world in no time. They always told me I was too good for this place—too smart, too determined, too big. Maybe I used to be, or maybe they were thinking of their other daughter. When I first discussed helping out in a more official capacity at Toades, I was met with loaded silence. They didn’t want me to stay, and even if they did, they didn’t want me to settle for the family business. But I had ideas. Good ideas that had the potential to stabilize this place, but it required my parents—mostly my mom—to change things up a little. In the summer, we did a decent business in the store, especially for an antiques shop in a town that wasn’t along any sort of highway—major or minor. But Sweetwater Peak was popular for fishing and wildlife tourism in the
summer months. The Sweetwater River was half fresh water and half salt water, and even though not many species of fish had been able to adapt, there was one specific one—the melancholia trout—that thrived in the river’s divide and stayed there instead of draining into the lake. The seemingly unlimited amounts of the trout attracted lots of visitors to the area, which resulted in decent foot traffic for the store. But in the winter, that foot traffic became virtually nonexistent. I’d spent my whole life hearing my parents say We just need to make it through this winter, every winter. They had gotten by on selling stuff on e Bay for years. The vintage and antiques community there was strong. But I had a vision for housing most of the e-commerce on our own site. I also worked on improving Toades’s Search Engine Optimization, and now it makes up a lot more of our business than it used to. I prioritized pop culture items on the site because it was easy to target collectors with ads and marketing emails. Most of our online customers, though, were r epeats. We had a good r eputation, and we generally turned over online items quickly. My mom also had a few customers that she would source items for—things like gothic revival furniture or preserved concert ticket stubs and posters, but I took the lead on the relationship management and getting their items to them. I had taken my parents’ anxiety every winter and turned the business around. Maybe we weren’t insanely profitable or successful, but we were stable. At least... we used to be. “There were also some D epression glass and some Pyrex stuff. Mostly just costume jewelry and coins otherwise.” “Make sure you sort out the coins,” my mom said. “I’ll take a look at them later.” “Will do,” I said. I was already putting them in a jar for her. As good as I was about being able to identify vintage and antique items, my mom was better. I didn’t know how she stored all the information in her head. She was good at the restoration part too. She had a knack for knowing how things worked—like old kitchen appliances and office supplies, which also made her an excellent ad hoc r epairwoman. People sent her everything —from disgruntled sewing machines to broken VCRs, and she would fix them. Antiques were her calling. I didn’t know if I’d ever be as good as her. Joanie couldn’t see or talk to ghosts like Collins and me, but she called herself “sensitive.” She could feel energies around her or that were attached to items. She could also feel any sort of paranormal activity, so even though she couldn’t see or talk to Earnest, she knew when he was around. They had their own way of communicating. He always found a way to get her attention when she left the coffe epot on or forgot to lock the front door. I guess Collins and I were the natural progression of whatever weird genes our mom had. “How’s the morning been?” “I’m getting quite a bit done, even if it’s slowly,” I r eplied, and I heard my mom inhale de eply. As if I hadn’t been trying hard enough. But maybe I hadn’t. Even with everything I’ve done for Toades, we weren’t pr epared for that stupid storm. And I should have been more ready for it. I should’ve double-checked the insurance policy and gotten new windows a few years ago when we had a good summer. I should’ve acknowledged that there was a new leak in the roof to patch every time it rained more seriously. I should’ve done more. I could’ve. But I didn’t. And now we’d be lucky to have a semifunctioning shop by the time the busy season rolled around. My mom’s presence always attracted the ghosts at Toades. There were some ghosts that Collins and I only saw if Joanie was around. They adored her. I could feel them now—moving into my mom’s orbit and raising the frequency in my head.
“Did Baker get back to you about the roof?” my mom asked. I shook my head. “I called and left a message this morning, though. The other two bids are... higher than we wanted.” We weren’t just r epairing the roof—we were r eplacing it. The roof was holding up every other project because we didn’t want to make other r epairs when the roof could give at any moment and put us back at square one again. My mom squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She and Collins both did that when they started to feel overwhelmed. Me? I just clenched my jaw so hard I was worried my teeth would break. “Do you need me to do it?” I tried to swallow down the buzzing. “No,” I said through clenched teeth. “We need to get this done, Clarke,” my mom said, sounding exasperated. “I’m aware,” I said—trying my hardest not to snap at her. “And I am getting it done.” “It’s been three months,” my mom said. “And I’ve gotten us three bids,” I shot back. “But you didn’t think to have any sort of emergency savings account or to invest in a semidecent insurance policy. So we can’t afford any of them.” “There you go—blaming me again.” “I’m not blaming you!” This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. This is why I brewed the coffee. I was being nice, and it bit me in the ass. “I’m just saying.” My mom scoffed. I hated this. This place that both of us loved had somehow become a virus that fed itself by eating away at our relationship. “I’ll be in the basement,” she said—brushing me off. The Toades basement was off-limits to customers and packed full of old shit. After my parents’ basement at home flooded, they lost a lot of physical memories, so my mom decided it was time to get the shop’s basement under control, in the hopes that we’d never have to deal with such intense cleanup ever again. I started chewing on my thumbnail. Biting my nails was an anxious habit, and being at work with my mom made me anxious lately. Toades was so important to her, and right now, it was all fucked-up. And it felt like neither of us could fix it. “Mom,” I said before she turned to leave. “Have you, um, been on Sweetwater Peakers at all lately?” I didn’t know why I asked. I guess I just didn’t want my mom to find out about the rumors surrounding Leith and me. At this rate, she would probably be Team Ali. Joanie shook her head. “You know how I feel about that stupid site...” She trailed off. “Why? Is there something good on there?” She hated the site, but that’s just because she preferred to get her gossip the old-fashioned way—human to human. I had no doubt that the rumors would make it to Joanie’s ears, so I figured I might as well subtly prime her beforehand. “Nope,” I said quickly. “But if you hear something about Leith Wilkes and me, just... don’t believe it.” My mom’s face went from cross to suspicious to amused. She was looking at me with... interest. It had been a while since she’d looked at me with anything but guilt, a little sadness, and a lot of frustration. “You... and Leith Wilkes?” “Yeah,” I said. “You know everyone gets bored in the winter.” Joanie did not look convinced, but she just said, “Whatever you say,” and made her way toward the basement. I hated that I felt relieved when she walked away, and I hated how sad I was that she didn’t even ask any follow-up questions. We were so angry with each other. I pushed my chair back from the desk and put my head in my hands. Sometimes, this helped with the buzzing but not today—especially because I think at least a third of my headache was mother related. I’d spent so much time over the past few years trying to prove to her that I was supposed to be here, that I wanted to be here, and that all the big things she thought I was meant for didn’t mean anything compared
to what I knew I wanted: Toades. And increasingly, it felt like my mom only said that she thought I was meant for something better because she didn’t trust me with what she built. Even though the tensest moments were over, I learned that anger like that leaves scar tissue. I wanted to fix it so badly. And I needed to prove to her that I could do this—that I could turn things around, and the answer to all of it was fixing Toades. But I couldn’t fix Toades—not by myself, anyway. Well, shit.