44: Book Six by Jools Sinclair

things that the other person does.”
    I sighed at the realization. It hit me that David was just saying that as a reference to Ty. Like Ty should try ghost hunting or something.
    “So how did his second audition go?”
    “He said it went well.”
    We spent a few minutes putting back all the boxes. My old skis were in the corner. I thought about attaching the rack to the top of the Jeep but figured it would be too much trouble. I put the back seat down and threw the skis inside.
    “Be careful up there, Abby,” Kate said. “Driving too.”
    “I will.”
     

 
    CHAPTER 26
     
    I pulled into the Christmas tree lot and waited for Kate. I was on my way home from work. We had agreed to meet at six. It had been a long day and I was tired. I wouldn’t have minded doing it in the morning. But tradition was tradition. We always got our tree on December 15 th .
    I saw Kate’s car drive up next to me. She talked on the phone for a minute before getting out.
    It was cold and clear, the stars bright even with the lights of the city.
    “Hey, Abby,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. They’ve got me covering another beat in addition to my own now that we’re shorthanded.”
    “No problem,” I said. “So how are things at the paper?”
    “It’s pretty sad. It feels like a skeleton crew on a sinking ship. People don’t talk too much about it, but everyone’s kind of scared. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
    I didn’t sense that in her energy. She seemed almost normal.
    “So, what are you thinking this year?” I said. “The usual?”
    “The grand firs are the best,” she said. “Let’s go see.”
    Ever since our mom died, that’s what we had gotten.
    “Hey, remember when Mom used to get a permit and took us out to the forest so we could chop down our own tree?” I said.
    “How could I forget?”
    Having grown up in Los Angeles, she had always gotten her tree from a supermarket lot. So when she moved to Oregon and heard that you could cut down your own tree, she couldn’t resist. She loved everything about it. Even the silly Charlie Brown trees we always seemed to end up with.
    We wandered around. I inhaled the rich smoke billowing from a wood stove they had set up in one corner of the lot. It was atmospheric. All that was missing was the snow. A guy in a beanie told us to let him know when we were ready and he would help tie the tree on top of the car.
    Kate strolled away down one of the aisles, looking critically at each tree like she always did. She was picky and wanted it perfect. Somehow, by the time December rolled around, I had forgotten how long the whole process took. At least I was dressed warmly. And I told myself that if things got too bad I could always hang out by the stove.
    I stared at the Christmas lights strung up on the little shack by the parking lot. I stared at them, hoping to see a color. Maybe red. Something. Thinking that if I focused on them long and hard enough it just might happen.
    Then I heard the whisper.
    “Abby,” a voice said, sounding like the wind.
    It took me completely off guard. I shivered and tried to steady my breathing. It was the ghost of the woman. It had to be.
    But when I turned around, I didn’t see her. I didn’t see anyone.
    I walked slowly down the aisles, hoping she wouldn’t just jump out at me.
    I looked between the trees, one by one. Between the branches.
    “I’m waiting…”
    There it was again. It rushed over me. It couldn’t just be the wind. There was no wind.
    But there was no ghost either.
    “So what do you think?” Kate said when I caught up to her.
    “That one’s perfect,” I said. “Really. It’s the best one I’ve seen.”
    I helped her drag it out into the middle of the aisle, where she circled it three times, eyeing every branch.
    “Yeah,” she said. “This is it.”
    As the kid secured the tree to the roof of the Jeep a few minutes later, I looked back one more time toward the lot.
    I knew her ghost was in there somewhere.