Believing (Lily Dale #2)(35)
“What do they do? Have seances and read crystal balls?”
Calla can’t help but notice that he sounds pretty ignorant . . . and exactly like she did on her first day here.
Again, she realizes how far she’s come in such a short time. How Lily Dale’s extraordinariness now feels incredibly ordinary.
To her father, aloud, she says only, “I haven’t had readings with any of them, so I don’t really know what they do.”
Which is the truth.
And he seems satisfied, because he changes the subject to what kind of fish are found in Cassadaga Lake.
“I don’t know how long it’s been since I last went to a movie,” Odelia comments from the front seat beside Calla’s father as he drives along Cottage Row late Saturday night. “That was so good. Thanks for asking me to join you two, Jeff.”
“You’re welcome. And maybe next time, I won’t have to practically drag you along.”
“Well, you know, it’s past my bedtime.”
Yeah, right. In the backseat, Calla smiles. She knows why her grandmother was so resistant to the invitation—she wanted Calla and her father to spend time alone together.
But that’s the last thing Calla wanted tonight. By the end of the day spent walking around Lily Dale, eating lunch and doing some shopping together down in Dunkirk, she had run out of things to say to her father. He did think to ask if she needed any clothes when they passed a T.J. Maxx store, and she admitted she could use a couple of sweaters and a warm coat.
But shopping with her father isn’t the same as shopping with her mother. Mom used to come into the dressing room with her and check out everything she tried on. Dad milled around looking bored while trying to be patient.
In the end, Calla chose only one sweater and an inexpensive down coat, feeling guilty about making him spend any money on her though he kept asking if she was sure that was all she needed. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she desperately needs more clothes and a haircut. Not that she thinks he’s so broke he can’t afford a haircut, but she dreads the thought of dragging him to a salon on the heels of shopping.
She still isn’t used to being a twosome with him. It’s not that it’s awkward, necessarily. More just . . . depressing. And a little tense, at times.
Maybe Dad feels the same way, because he was pretty insistent about bringing Odelia along tonight.
First they saw a hilarious movie, then they went to dinner at Rocco’s, a cozy, crowded Italian restaurant in nearby Fredonia. The conversation flowed easily over calamari and fettucine. Odelia had them laughing as she told stories of her daily adventures—somehow managing to leave out any hint of what she does for a living. She was great company, as always.
There’s another reason Calla wanted Gammy with them tonight: so Dad would see how comfortable she is with her grandmother. Plus, she figured she’d have an ally this time if they got into another debate.
Not that the subject of her returning to California with him has come up at all since this morning. Still, it’s there, still simmering just under the surface, waiting to be resolved.
“Oh, look, there are the Taggarts,” Odelia comments as Jeff pulls up in front of her cottage.
Calla sees the flickering glow of a lit candle from the porch next door.
Like most people around here, Calla’s noticed, Evangeline’s family likes to be outdoors whenever possible. At night, in the rain, whatever. Maybe it’s because the weather in Lily Dale is so harsh for much of the year, summer and early fall are the only times they can take advantage of fresh air.
In Florida, it’s the polar opposite—that’s the time of year when people spend more time indoors, thanks to harsh weather in the form of heat, humidity, and ominous thunderstorms, not to mention hurricane season.
“Dad, you have to come meet Evangeline,” Calla tells him, thinking that might make him more willing to see the advantages of her staying in Lily Dale. Here, at least, she has a friend.
She expects an argument from him—he just mentioned how tired he is despite the time change from California, and that he’s looking forward to crawling into bed back at the White Inn.
But he says, “All right,” and promptly turns off the car engine, and Calla has another illogical flash about him and Ramona. Which she immediately pushes right back out of her head.
The beautiful day turned into a beautiful night: a fat white moon perched in an unusually cloudless black sky glittering with stars. Night insects chirp a steady rhythm, and somewhere in the distance, a dog is barking nonstop. It’s chilly, and Calla is glad she’s wearing her new sweater.
“How was the movie?” Ramona calls as the three of them walk toward her porch, where she and Evangeline are lounging on wicker furniture, illuminated only by candlelight from a mesh-covered green glass globe.
“How did you know we went to a movie?” Calla asks, and instantly regrets it. Maybe Ramona knew the way other people around here know things—and will say it in front of Dad.
“Odelia told me,” is the reply, to Calla’s relief.
Calla glances up, reassured to find that the resident shingle— RAMONA TAGGART,REGISTERED MEDIUM—is safely shrouded in shadow.
“What’d you see?” Evangeline asks.
“The new one with Steve Carell. I love him,” Calla tells her. “Hey, this is my dad. Dad, Evangeline. And you already met Ramona.”