Gardening with a Ghost by Amanda Meuwissen

Author:Amanda Meuwissen
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Amanda Meuwissen Books
Published: 2022-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“You’re late,” Mrs. Benedict said when Peter entered the kitchen at five forty-three instead of the usual five thirty.

“Got a bit drained yesterday,” Peter said, graciously claiming the waiting thermos from the island, with coffee inside that had been exactly the way he liked it ever since day one. “Had trouble listening to my alarm this morning.”

“Hm,” she tsked in apparent scolding and indicated the plate ready for him at the breakfast nook. “Your French toast is getting cold.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious regardless,” Peter amended and slid into the booth to the soothing aroma of cinnamon. Maple syrup and other accompaniments were on the table for him to choose from. He went with butter and powdered sugar.

Exactly two minutes later, four things happened in rapid succession: Mrs. Benedict carried over a second plate for Hugh; Hugh himself entered as routine dictated; Peter groaned upon taking his first ravenous bite of gourmet-level French toast; and the light above his head shattered.

“Heavens!” Mrs. Benedict’s hand flew to her chest, and the other nearly dropped Hugh’s plate.

Arthur! Peter accused in his head, because it had to be him, given the flare and flicker before the light exploded. Peter could feel Arthur’s lingering presence, but why, when—

He swallowed his mouthful of sweet perfection, thinking in the same moment the toast slid down his throat that Arthur might have been trying to warn him not to take that bite.

“Everyone okay?” Hugh came over to inspect the damage. The fixture had caught the glass, so the rest of Peter’s French toast remained unsullied, not that he was certain he wanted more.

“Eat up.” Mrs. Benedict set Hugh’s plate down as he took his seat and nudged Peter’s closer to him with a sharp, expectant look. “No point in everyone’s breakfast getting cold. Fixing the light can wait.”

Sorry, Arthur conveyed, at least careful enough not to speak out loud. Did that mean it was safe? Had he simply remembered something? Why—?

“Mr. Thorne?”

Peter startled out of his musings to see Hugh staring at him, and no wonder, given Peter had been staring too, zoned out on his possibly poisoned plate of French toast with his fork suspended. “Fine! I’m fine. Just startled. You should see me jump at a popped balloon.” Peter set his fork down and unscrewed the thermos cap to take a long draw from his coffee, only realizing mid-swallow that it could just as easily be poisoned as the food, and nearly choked when it ended up half down the wrong pipe. He held up a hand when Hugh made to get up and assist him through his coughing fit. He’d be okay. Hopefully.

Peter?

If Arthur was questioning his reactions maybe it was okay, but then they were going to have a very long talk about Arthur being clear whenever he had something to say while others were around.

“Sorry,” Arthur said aloud once they were outside. He sounded stronger than he’d been at the end of last night. It was nice to hear his voice,

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