Heâd been very proud. âItâs a great place, Tess. I know I can trust you with it.â
She passed the pictures across the bar to her father.
He put on his reading glasses and took a look. âTess. Jesus. It is a barn.â
âIâm telling you,â Davey said, âitâs got snakes.â
Davey was getting on Tessâs nerves. She almost told him the place was haunted by a convicted murderer whose descendants lived next door, never mind that one of them was a six-year-old who thought she was a princess. But she said nothing, because arguing with Davey Ahearn only encouraged him.
âItâs in Beacon-by-the-Sea, Pop. Remember when we used to go up there for picnics on the beach?â
âYeah. I remember.â He took off his glasses and pushed the pictures back to her. âLong commute.â
âItâd be a while before I could move in, and Iâm not sure I would. If business keeps up, I could keep it as a weekend place.â
âOld as it is,â Davey went on, as if heâd never stopped, âitâs probably got asbestos, lead pipes. Lead paint.â
âSo? I could buy a duplex up the street with lead paint and asbestos.â
Davey eased off the bar stool. âNow, why would you want to buy a place in a neighborhood with people whoâve known you your whole life? That wouldnât make any sense when you can fix up some goddamn barn some goddamn rich nut gave you in a quaint little town up on the North Shore where not only no one knows you, no one wants to know you.â
âThatâs pure prejudice, Davey, and I earned the carriage house. It wasnât âgivenâ to me.â Except sheâd thought sheâd have to do more work to really earn it, although Ike had never put that on paper. Technically, the carriage house was hers, free and clear of everything but taxes.
âYou know Iâm telling the truth.â Davey walked heavily over to her, this big man sheâd known since she was in a crib. Her godfather. âYouâve lost sight of who you are, where you come from.â
âDavey, Iâm sitting here eating clam chowder in my fatherâs pub. I havenât lost sight of anything.â
He snorted, but kissed her on the cheek, his mustache tickling her. âYou need a plumber for that barn of yours, kid, give me a call. Iâll see what I can do. If itâs hopeless, Iâll bring a book of matches. You can collect the insurance.â
Tess fought back a smile. âDavey, youâre impossible.â
âHa. Like youâre not.â
The guys at the tables ragged him about the bald spot on the back of his head, and he gave them the finger and left.
âYouâre thirty-four years old, Tess.â Her father exhaled a long, slow breath, as if his own words had taken him by surprise. âI canât be telling you what to do.â
âThatâs not what I was worried about. I was worried youâd talk me out of doing something before I could figure out for myself if it was something I really wanted to do.â
âAnd since when have I done that?â
âIt could have happened today.â
âYou want to keep this place?â
âIâm thinking seriously about it, Pop.â
âWell, so be it. How âbout a piece of pie?â
âWhat do you have?â
âLemon meringue.â
She smiled. âPerfect.â
Â
Davey Ahearn was smoking a cigarette on his front stoop across the street from the pub when Tess headed out into the cool evening. He walked over to her. âYou take the subway?â He tossed his cigarette onto the street. âIâll walk you to the station.â
There was no point in telling him she could see herself to the subway station. Heâd walk with her, anyway. âThanks.â
He glanced at her as they headed to the corner. âYou didnât tell him about the ghost, did
Catelynn Lowell, Tyler Baltierra