Awakening (Lily Dale #1)(20)

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Calla—”

“I mean, if you can’t put someone through to the person they want to talk to, then what good is any of it?”

“It’s not like a telephone,” Odelia says evenly. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just place a call to the other side and ask to speak to someone specific.”

“Then why even bother getting a reading at all?”

“You probably shouldn’t.”

“That’s fine, because I wasn’t planning on it. I don’t even believe in it, anyway,” she feels compelled to add, for good measure. Even though it might not be true.

She waits for Odelia to defend her so-called profession. She merely shrugs. “That’s your prerogative. Your mother didn’t believe, either, for what it’s worth. And neither did her father.”

Odelia’s talking about Calla’s grandfather, Jack Lauder. Mom never talked about him. All Calla knows is that Mom’s parents split up when she was a little girl, and her father moved away and had little to do with Odelia or Mom after that.

Maybe now I know why, Calla can’t help thinking. Because his ex-wife was a whack job who thought she could talk to dead people—only, just random dead people. Nobody who matters.

“As for your father,” Odelia goes on, “I’d be willing to bet he still hasn’t got a clue what I do, or that this town is populated by registered mediums.”

“I’ll bet you’re right. Because if he knew . . .”

“You wouldn’t be here,” Odelia finishes for her when she trails off. “Right?”

“Right.” Her father would have her on the next plane out of here, even if it meant giving up his sabbatical in California. No way would he let her stay in a crazy place like this. It was hard enough to persuade him to send her here in the first place.

“Are you going to tell him?” Odelia asks her after a moment. “When he calls?”

“Are you?”

“Not unless he asks.”

Calla finds herself smiling despite herself at the thought of her father happening to inquire, “Say, by any chance is this Lily Dale place filled with people who can talk to ghosts?”

“So . . . are you going to tell him?” Odelia asks again.

Calla hesitates. “No. Not unless he asks.”

Odelia smiles at her. She isn’t in the mood to return it, though.

“Want some milk and cookies? I always have that before bed. And mango sorbet.”

Calla shrugs and swings her legs over the edge of the mattress. “Why not.”

“Oh, hi, Jeff. Sure, she’s fine . . . no, everything went fine . . . yes . . . yes . . . hang on a second, she’s right here.” Odelia turns to Calla, sitting at the table spooning the last bit of melting sorbet from her plastic bowl, and holds out the telephone receiver. “It’s your dad.”

Calla knew that, of course. She knew it when the phone rang.

So, does that make me psychic? Ultrasensitive to earthly energy vibrations around me?

No. It’s just common sense. He wouldn’t have been able to reach her on her cell, so of course he’d try Odelia’s number.

“Dad?”

“How’s it going, hon? I tried to get you on your cell phone but I kept getting voice mail. I left a few messages, but I didn’t want to wait to talk to you. I miss you too much already.”

Calla is completely caught off guard by the tsunami of emotion that sweeps through her at the sound of his voice. For a second, she can’t even speak.

She watches Odelia dunk another pecan sandy, which turned out to be a delicious shortbread-tasting cookie, into a glass of milk.

Then she manages to croak, “My cell doesn’t get service here.”

“Uh-oh. Will you survive?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “So, your grandmother did meet you at the airport on time . . . right?”

Calla knew before she left that he doesn’t think Odelia is the most responsible human being in the world. Back in Tampa, he kept asking her if she had cash for a cab, just in case her grandmother was late—or didn’t show up at all.

“Yup, she was there, right on time.” Calla watches her grandmother finish the cookie in two bites. “How was your flight, Dad?”

“Late. Crowded. Bumpy.” He sounds beat. “I hope yours was better.”

“It was.”

“Good.”

Oh, ick. Odelia is pouring Hershey’s syrup on another helping of sorbet. Chocolate and mango aren’t the ideal pairing as far as Calla is concerned, but Odelia gobbled up the last serving, so maybe she’s on to something.

“So, everything’s okay there?” Dad is asking. “Other than the cell phone not working?”

She hesitates for the slightest fraction of a second. “Definitely.”

“What’s the town like?”

“Small. Cute.” Haunted.

“How about the house?”

“The same.” In every way. She shivers a little.

Seeing her, Odelia murmurs, “It’s getting cold in here, isn’t it? I’ll shut the window.”

“So, you think you’re going to be okay there,” her father asks, “until September?”