Page 49 of Paper Ghosts

Bailey never saw her again. To this day, she wondered if she was even real. But it was advice she would later come to live by. Doing something different with her hair was always her first step when she wanted to do something different with her life.

She finally got to her knees on the tile floor and angled her head awkwardly under the tub faucet, pleasantly surprised when her hair didn’t come out in clumps.

She turned off the tap and scrubbed her hair with a towel, then turned to the desilvering mirror over the sink to see what it looked like. The bleach had turned the blue into a platinum color.

Every time she colored her hair, she liked this moment best—looking in the mirror and seeing someone she didn’t recognize, hoping it was someone she finally wanted to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

She didn’t know what to do with herself the next day, waiting for tea again. Alone in her room, she was so restless she swore sparks were coming off her skin, reflecting on the dark wood paneling. Mim just wanted to tell her a story. So why did it feel so big and unseen, like the shadow of an invisible giant?

With a lack of anything better to do, she started taking clothes out of the donation bags and holding them up to her in front of the closet mirror. She immediately stopped when she realized what she was doing. She was not going to start trying her old life on again. She knew it didn’t fit anymore.

God, she had to get out of here for a while before she went crazy.

She went downstairs and wrote a note to her dad, then walked downtown to try Mother Hen’s again. The lights were on today, but the door was still locked. She looked inside and for the first time saw that the freezer display cases, usually filled with tubs of tea ice cream in wildly improbable flavors, were empty.

A man with scruffy hair the color of beach sand and gold wire-rimmed glasses suddenly emerged from the back. He was staring at a clipboard, tapping his pencil against it with frustration. He finally threw his head back and gave what looked to be a groan, before pretending to hit himself in the head with the clipboard several times. He stopped when he saw her.

Mim said yesterday that she wished she had told Bailey about Jack sooner. Bailey wished that, too. If someone had just shown her there was a right way, a realistic way, moments like meeting this man’s eyes wouldn’t scare her so much. Because of Clutch, she still believed this feeling of attraction meant her whole world was about to be burned down. She immediately took a step back, but he was already laughing at what she’d witnessed and walking toward the door to unlock it. “Hi,” he said. “I’m completely normal.”

“I was here yesterday but you were closed. So I came back today, not realizing you were closed closed. Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I could use a break. I’m doing inventory.”

“Is this really the end of Mother Hen’s?” she asked. “This place was an institution.”

“So I’ve been hearing. I’m Theo.” He held out his hand, then realized he was still holding the pencil, so he tucked it behind his ear. “Ruby, the owner, was my grandmother. She died a few months ago.”

Bailey shook his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve lived here, but I don’t think I knew her.”

“Welcome to the club.” He took a step back. “Come in out of the cold.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“It’s either that, or I go outside. And I’m not exactly dressed for this weather.” He indicated his khaki cargo shorts and beige T-shirt that read AUSTIN CITY LIMITS MUSIC FESTIVAL. Between his monochromatic clothing, hair color, and tanned skin, he gave the impression of having his own internal light source. “I always thought North Carolina had mild weather.”

Bailey didn’t move. “Hen Town plays by its own rules.”

“I’m beginning to see that. I like this town, but the longer I stay the more it requires a certain suspension of disbelief. It’s like I found my way into a novel.”

He opened the door wider, and she finally entered. The place still smelled of waffle cones—a crisp, brown, sugary scent that instantly catapulted anyone who smelled it into a specific childhood memory. “So you don’t live around here?” she asked.

“No. I live in Austin. I didn’t know my grandmother or Hen Town existed until a few weeks ago. Ruby apparently bought this place from the original owner when she moved here, and continued serving the same thing from the same recipes. According to my mother, tea ice cream is exactly the kind of quirk she would’ve been attracted to. Then again, my mother isn’t an unbiased source of information when it comes to Ruby. They’d been estranged for decades, which is why I’m here and not her. I took a leave of absence, and now I’m up to my elbows in tea ice cream during the day. Then, at night, I’m sleeping in the house of a grandmother I never knew, surrounded by her crystals and incense and prayer flags.”

Bailey smiled. She liked talkers. “So what’s going to happen with the shop?”

“The building is going on the market, as soon as I can get her affairs in order. There aren’t many affairs. Not much order, either.” He waved the clipboard. “There’s a walk-in freezer full of Halloween tea ice cream that I have no idea what to do with. By the time my mother was tracked down as Ruby’s heir, the power here had already been cut off. I cleaned out the melted gloop from the display cases, but the freezer has its own backup generator.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “Blackberry and the Ghost of Earl Grey Tea. Jack-o’-Lantern Pumpkin Chai. And Witches’ Brew Pistachio and Green Tea.”

“You are correct,” he said, like a game show host.

“Those were made exclusively for the Shadow Fair for as long as I can remember. It’s tomorrow, in case you missed the not-so-subtle signage.” She pointed outside to where city workers were now setting up bales of hay and tables in the park. “You could sell it all then, assuming you have something to put it in. Paper cups would be easy.”

“I thought I’d just give it away to a local school.” Theo shrugged. “I know my students would go crazy for it. Fun fact: If there’s ice cream anywhere in the building, it renders kids completely unteachable for an entire day.”

“A lot of kids go to the Shadow Fair, since it’s the Saturday before Halloween. You could give it away then. Do you need a hand?” He didn’t respond. “I’ve done it all. Waitress, barista, retail. I think I can figure out scooping ice cream.” He continued to stare. “Do you need references? I’m a receptionist at a water-resources company right now.”