Suddenly Psychic (Glimmer Lake #1)(40)

“And your dollhouse.”

Robin stared at Emma. “You remember that story?”

“Dude.” Emma looked at her phone again. “Mom, that was so wrong.”

“Well, Grandma figured that Grandpa could make me another one, and she did give me part of the money.”

“It was your dollhouse. You should have gotten all the money.”

“This is your grandma we’re talking about. I knew even at age seven that arguing was worthless.”

“What about Grandma Helen’s house? You had your own room at Russell House, right?”

Robin shuddered. “No. Russell House was never home.” That was probably why her mother had always been so mercenary about possessions. Her own father hadn’t exactly created a warm and comfortable home.

Emma was staring at her phone. “You know, Mom, you need to tell Dad what you want. He can’t read your mind or anything. He’s not psychic.”

“Ha ha.” The irony. “I don’t expect your dad to read my mind. I don’t know what I want.” She wanted her old Subaru station wagon back. It had moved beyond dated and into classic territory. Probably. “I want my old car back.”

“Your old car was a relic,” Emma said. “Get something cool.”

“And safe,” Robin said. “The most safe, apparently. Maybe your dad wants to get me a tank.”

“Nope. That would have sunk a lot faster.”

Robin winced. “Too soon.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I kind of regretted it as soon as I said it. Sorry.”

Robin sighed, watching Car Lot Man walk around the lot. Up and down. Back and forth. Happy to be ignored. Happy to keep doing the same thing over and over for all time.

“So what kind of car should I get?” Robin asked.

“I don’t know. What do you like?” Emma looked up. “Other than your old car?”

“Not a truck. Or one of these big things.”

“Well, whatever it is, you need to pick something and tell Dad. He’s waiting to get you something you want. He just wants you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom.”





“I think you should just get a new version of the car you lost,” Grace said. “Weren’t you happy with your old car?”

“It was your old car,” Robin muttered. “And yeah. I liked it.”

Grace shrugged. “So get a new one.” She held up a swatch of fabric. “This is too dark.”

They were talking over the seasonal decoration for the antique shop. Robin usually let her mom take the lead getting Glimmer Lake Curios ready for the season. Grace had a wonderful eye for design, and she wanted to make new swags for all the windows, which took time.

Robin glanced at the fabric swatch. “So find something lighter. I just picked that one because I liked the red against the walls.” The interior of the old house reflected the exterior. Log walls were bare through most of the living room that had been turned into the main showroom. Deep colors looked great. Pale colors disappeared.

Grace flipped through a giant ring of fabric samples. “It’s your shop now. You should decide.”

“Mom, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Don’t try to make me guess what you want. The bell over the door rang and Robin walked into the showroom, only to find no one there.

“Robin? Who is it, honey?”

“Just the wind.” She walked up and down the entry hallway. There were no cold spots. No gusts. Was it the wind, a ghost, or her imagination?

“We need something in a deep color,” Grace said, “but something that’s light enough to pop against the permanent curtains.”

Which were green. Robin knew exactly what Grace was doing. “Mom, you found one an hour ago.”

“Honey, this is your decision.”

You just want me to pick the one you already found! It was a cranberry red with a subtle snowflake pattern. It was nice. It was lovely, in fact. But Grace refused to make a decision; she wanted Robin to magically agree with her.

Just tell me you want the snowflakes!

Robin walked through the entry one last time and turned in to the showroom. She heard something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was faint, like a person talking at the end of a long hallway.

She walked to the window seat where she and Emma had created a kids’ corner for children to play while their parents shopped. There was a dollhouse and a shelf of books. A small table with buckets of crayons and scrap paper.

She was crouching down to pick up a few crayons that had fallen on the ground when she heard the noise behind her.

Creak.

Creak.

Robin slowly turned to see the antique rocker she’d placed near the children’s corner moving back and forth. There was a faint outline that grew more substantial the more she trained her eyes on it.

A woman appeared in the rocking chair. She was wearing a simple housedress, and her hair was frozen in crisp waves around her head. An apron covered her flowered day dress, the gingham trim popping against the bright blue pattern. She was in her early thirties if Robin had to guess, and she watched the children’s corner with sad eyes.

“Hey, Mom?” Robin kept her eyes on the woman in the rocking chair, wondering if she’d just found the source of her mystery bell.