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It was another beautiful day at Woodstone B&B, and Pete woke up with a smile on his face, stretched, and took a deep, deep breath. Deeper than he’d taken in years.
The arrow in his neck was gone.
The arrow in his neck was gone!
He had to tell his friends the good news. He pulled himself to his feet, still a little stiff from sleeping on the floor, and walked directly into the door.
And bounced off, with a loud thud.
#
Trevor quietly opened the door to Sam and Jay’s room and started pulling out bureau drawers, scanning what was inside, and closing them again as silently as possible.
Wow, Jay owned a lot of T-shirts.
“Trevor?” asked Sam, still sounding half-asleep. “No ghosts in the bedroom.”
He almost laughed at that. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “We’ll all be a lot happier if I can find—”
There they were—a pair of worn grey sweatpants that said “Northwestern” down the leg. Northwestern, could be worse. He pulled them on. Oh my God, even fresh out of the bureau drawer, they were so warm, and soft. Possibly his favorite item of clothing ever.
“Trevor?” said Sam again. “How are you doing that?”
This stupid jacket was coming off. And the fucking tie. He was never going to wear a tie again, not if he could help it. And the shirt, pulling it off so fast that a button or two went flying, bouncing audibly off the floor. He let the shirt drop to the ground and kicked it into a heap with his jacket and tie.
All his clothes stayed right where he’d left them. They didn’t pop back on his body. That was one of the first things he’d had to learn: you can take it off, but it just pops right back on again. You can’t change anything.
He stood there barefoot in his undershirt and Sam’s sweatpants, breathing like he’d just run a race. His eyes were itching and burning but he didn’t dare touch them.
“Trevor?” asked Jay. “Why can I see you?”
“I don’t know what happened,” Trevor said. “I woke up this morning, and I was alive.” He felt a tear drop out of his eye, and tried to wipe it off with the tail of his undershirt, but another dropped, then another. “I’m sorry, I—”
He had no idea what he was about to say, but then Sam was hugging him. She felt warm, and her breath smelled a little sour from sleep. It was all so real. He didn’t break into powder when she touched him. She was real, and he was real. He held on to her until the world shifted back into place.
He was getting her shoulder all wet, so he looked up, and Jay was looking at him.
“Hi,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, and held out his right arm, still holding Sam with his left. “Trevor Lefkowitz, nice to—”
But before he could say anything else, Jay was hugging him too.
Well, that was nice.
#
The first thing Hetty had noticed that was different was that she was hungry. That’s where her thoughts had led her: first, “I’m hungry,” and only then, “I’m alive.”
It was almost terrifying, really. She was alive in a world that wouldn’t say no to her, simply because she was a woman. Or at least, if it did, the walls lay far beyond where they had been in her first life. The world was open to whatever her will could grasp.
She had never allowed herself to think of such a thing. It was a little much, really.
But at least she could make herself breakfast. And perhaps some for her friends as well.
Sasappis was also in the kitchen, which didn’t surprise her. She had a dim sense that there had sometimes been unlucky years for Sass’s people, lean years where the crops didn’t grow as well as they needed to. She remembered years like that in her own lifetime. Her family’s wealth had sheltered her from ever feeling hunger, but sometimes there would be country people at the back door, asking for a little loan of food, or offering a thin-looking child as a prospective servant.
How strange to live in a world where food was everywhere, all the time. She would like to see one of these modern supermarkets, she thought.
“Sasappis,” she said. “Very good to see you alive.”
“You too, Hetty,” he said, and smiled at her.
“Tell me,” she said. “What have you eaten, this miraculous morning?”
“So far, just these blueberries,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m eating blueberries in winter.”
“Elias and I had a greenhouse,” she said. “Every winter, we’d have a few berries, for a special treat.” She reached over and took a few out of the plastic container, and popped them in her mouth.
It was the first time she’d eaten anything, in her own body, for over a century. She moaned a little with pleasure, but Sasappis pretended not to hear her. He was actually quite a gentleman.
“I remember that greenhouse,” he said. “All the ghosts used to love sitting in there, because it was so warm. Have you seen Thor yet?”
“Did he also awaken alive?” she said. “I haven’t checked on him yet. You know how he is when he wakes up.”
Sasappis nodded. There were some other names he was tactful enough not to mention. Isaac, if he was fortunate enough to be alive as well, was doubtless awakening in his Nigel’s arms, and deserved a little privacy. And as for Trevor, if he were also alive—well, that was a problem to be solved later.
Sass tilted the blueberry basket back and forth. It was entirely empty. “You know what I’d really like? Some eggs.”
“What a lovely idea,” she said. “I’m sure, if we put our heads together, we could scramble up a few.”
“I wonder what chicken eggs taste like,” he said. “Do you think they’re as good as duck eggs?”
#
And there was a sensation he hadn’t felt in twenty years, thought Trevor. “Do you mind if I use your john?” he said.
“Sure,” said Sam.
“Thanks,” he said. He went in the adjoining bathroom and lifted the seat, hoping he still remembered how to aim. “I can’t figure out why it would be me,” he said through the open door, making sure to be audible over the sound of his stream hitting the water. “I mean, it should be Pete, right? Or Flower. I don’t think Flower’s ever hurt anyone, you know? At least not intentionally.”
“CLOSE THE DOOR!” said Sam.
He flushed. “But we’re like family,” he said, confused.
“Family closes the door!” said Sam.
He came back into the bedroom. “You guys close the door when you—” he stopped, at the appalled look on Sam’s face. “Okay, sure.”
“Did you wash your hands?” she said.
“Sam, it may have been twenty years, but I still remember how not to pee on my hands,” he said, suavely.
“Oh my God,” said Sam, putting her hands up.
“Dude, just go wash your hands,” said Jay.
Really? “Oh, right, you’re a chef,” said Trevor, putting it all together.
“Were you raised by wolves?” said Sam. “Close the door, put the seat down, and wash your hands!”
#
The butter was blackening in the pan. “Do you think it’s supposed to smell like that?” said Hetty. “Or look like that?”
“I’m not sure?” said Sasappis.
Perhaps cooking was harder than Hetty had anticipated? Couldn’t be—servants were able to do it.
“Morning, you two,” said Flower’s cheerful voice. Perhaps she’d forgotten their names, again. It happened. “Does everything seem harder than usual this morning to you guys?”
“What do you mean, harder than usual?” asked Sasappis, turning off the burner under the pan. That seemed wise, since the butter was beginning to smoke, which couldn’t be a good thing.
“So far I’ve bounced off a door, the table, the door again…” said Flower.
“Flower, you nincompoop,” Hetty interrupted. “You’re alive!”
“I’m alive?” said Flower. “Whoa. And are you guys alive?”
“Yes,” said Hetty, irritated. “Of course we are.”
“Well,” said Flower, “why don’t you let me organize breakfast? It used to be my job in the commune, and I could murder a breakfast burrito. And you two could really use some help.”
#
“Hello,” said Alberta, into Sam’s little portable telephone. It was different from the telephones she’d used back when she was alive, but not different enough to stop her. And there was something much like an Alexa inside to look up phone numbers. A mechanical operator-- how convenient! “My name is Alberta Raines, and I’m looking for places to sing.”
“What kind of music do you do?” said the voice on the other end.
“I do anything that makes an audience happy,” she said. “But recently, I’ve been into a famous singer from the Twenties, named Alberta Haines. You might have heard of her?”
#
Hetty was grating the large block of cheese into smaller shreds, and it was taking forever. Sasappis was chopping onion, tomatoes, and a green herb into pieces, a smile on his face. She suspected that he appreciated the keenness of Jay’s knives. And Flower was searching for something.
“What are you looking for?” asked Hetty.
“Manteca,” said Flower. “Lard, I mean. I need it for the refried beans.”
“Must you?” said Hetty. “Trevor won’t eat it.”
“Duh,” said Flower, tapping her own forehead. “Corn oil it is.”
Sasappis looked up at Hetty and smirked.
She took back everything she’d thought about him being a gentleman. Why should she care what Trevor ate or wouldn’t eat, anyway?
What sort of bond could they possibly have, now that they had returned to the world of the living?
What she ought to think about was what she would do next. Unfair as it might be, the house now belonged to Samantha. Hetty would need to find a new purpose, beyond being the matron of Woodstone Mansion.
Perhaps, in this world that was willing to accept female authority, she might find a job suited to her talents. Hetty wondered how one might become a producer, like the admirable woman who had visited while filming Dumb Deaths. Did one begin by working for such a marvel? That seemed likely. Surely someone so hardworking and clever must require equally clever assistants?
There, it was settled: she would pursue employment. What Elias would have thought no longer mattered, with his soul sizzling in Hell.
She wondered what Trevor would think, and then tried to put that stray thought out of her mind.
Alberta walked in, bursting with energy. “I have great news, everyone! I’ve got a gig for tonight. It’s only for tips, but that’s just a start, and I’m terrific at getting an audience to pay up. Now I’ve just got to get Sam to lend me the flivver. I know how to drive, because my boyfriend used to let me use his roadster!”
Hetty felt a twinge of envy. Already settled? So soon. Well, Alberta was modern, really. The oldest of the modern ghosts. No longer ghosts. Was her head beginning to twinge, right behind her left eyeball? Where did Sam keep her cocaine?
“That’s great, Alberta,” said Flower. “Can you watch these eggs for me, while I get the beans going?”
#
Trevor was willing to put the seat down and wash his hands if it made Sam happy, but there was no way he was shutting the door to do it. That was not a reasonable ask.
He looked up at himself in the mirror and wondered what he was going to do. Call his parents, of course, as long as Sam and Jay didn’t mind him making a long-distance call.
And then what?
Call Ari, maybe? Hey, A-Dog, he thought. Going to need some help, bro. I want you to tell everyone I was a John Doe in a coma for the last twenty years, and I just woke up.
That way, I don’t have to tell anyone what you actually did to me.
If he worked hard enough, he could go right back to his old life, or something close to it. He’d been good at his job, and times might have changed, but Wall Street would still be waiting for him. He could get right back to that cool apartment in Chelsea with a doorman, custom suits, eighty-hour-work weeks, the Hamptons every weekend, and a little chemical help here and there to keep the party going.
But if he thought about it—that’s not what he wanted. That’s not who he was, anymore. He might look just as good as he did when he died, thank God, but twenty years had passed, and he’d felt them all.
So what did he want?
“Hey, Sam? Jay?” he yelled through the open door. “Do you mind if I stay a week or two? Just to get my feet under me. I can keep bunking with Thor, he won’t care. And it’ll give us a chance to figure out what the hell I did, to wake up like this.”
And he could say goodbye. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. He really should say goodbye to Hetty.
“Knock, knock!” said Pete’s chipper voice.
Trevor found himself smiling. Even if he was alive, he could still hear and see his friends. Like Sam! How cool was that?
The door opened. “Pete?” said Jay’s voice. “You’re Pete?”
Trevor dropped the hand towel on the floor and bolted into the bedroom. Pete looked different, and it actually took Trevor a moment to figure out why: no arrow.
“Is that really you?” said Jay. “Not a delivery guy?”
“It’s me,” said Pete.
“Pete! Bring it over here!” Jay grabbed him and hugged him.
Trevor squeezed Sam’s shoulder, and she smiled up at him. Oh, it was good to see those two so happy. “So, Pete. Both of us woke up alive?”
“All of us did,” said Pete.
Trevor held his hand to his heart. All the ghosts?
“I mean, as far as we can tell,” said Pete. “Everyone’s afraid to check on Thor.”
Trevor nodded. “Well, he did cut off my hand the last time I woke him up.”
“And Nigel and Isaac still have their door closed.”
Trevor grinned. “Oh, yeah.” Sex was a lot better when you could take your clothes off.
Pete shook his head.
“Does anyone else smell something cooking?” said Jay.
#
“Breakfast today is vegetarian breakfast burritos, with a choice of coffee or orange juice to drink,” said Flower. “We’ve got an assembly line ready to go on the kitchen table, and then everyone can take their plates to the settings to the dining room.”
That had been Hetty’s doing. Flower would have had them all slop down in the kitchen like animals. But Hetty had some standards.
She had intentionally not looked at Trevor, or at least, not twice. He was wearing some form of modern trousers, thank the Lord, but had paired it with a shirt that looked like underclothing. She was reminded of the morning after her wedding, when she’d served breakfast to Elias while he was still in his nightwear. It was uncomfortably intimate.
“And if you haven’t had a burrito before,” said Flower, “allow me to demonstrate. Take your tortilla—this is a tortilla, Pete—and put in beans, eggs, and some of this nice pico de gallo. I also like to add cheese, and a little hot sauce. And then I just roll it up, like so.”
“Is this spicy?” asked Pete.
“Only the hot sauce,” said Flower. “Pete, why don’t you start.”
Peter did as he was told. Good man.
“I’m just having coffee,” said Trevor.
Hetty had often reflected to herself that Trevor was a little odd about food. She suspected that he might have been somewhat pudgy in his youth. Well, there was a difference between moderating one’s appetites, and abstaining entirely. “Don’t you dare,” said Hetty. “I bled for that cheese.”
“Not on the cheese, to be clear,” said Sasappis.
“All right, Hetty,” said Trevor, beaming at her. “Whatever you want.”
He really was strikingly good-looking. And once one had shared a bed with a gentleman, it was difficult to put that out of one’s mind. She couldn’t help it—she smiled right back.
“You know what?” said Jay. “There are a lot of people in this kitchen. And I think we’re still missing some folks.”
“Welcome to my life,” said Sam.
#
Trevor had helped wash the dishes and put them away. Had washing dishes always been so much fun? He didn’t think so, but it sure was now. Look, he was turning on the tap! He could run water over his hand, rather than through it! He could wear rubber gloves!
It was all great. Being alive was great. This time, he was really going to pay attention.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. It was Hetty, looking strangely shy.
“Red,” he said. “Sit down.” He patted the sofa cushion.
“Must you use that ridiculous nickname?” she asked.
“It’s not ridiculous, it’s perfect.” He tried to wrap his arm around her, but she pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“Trevor,” she said. “Our circumstances have changed. Now that we’re both alive—a young man like you will undoubtedly want to build his own dynasty. To start a family. And that’s not something I can give you. So we should part now, as friends.”
And what was he going to say to that? He couldn’t promise that this would last forever. But he did care about Hetty. And the sex was frankly outstanding. So why should it end? He didn’t want it to end, and he didn’t think she did either.
He couldn’t say something like that to her. Too soft for her. “Well, how do I know you won’t leave me for some old man with tons of money and one foot in the grave?”
She scrutinized him, and a little hopeful smile bloomed on her face. “That does sound like an appealing plan.”
“Obviously.” He put his arm around her waist, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He turned and kissed the top of her head. He loved the way her hair smelled.
“And you’d have no objection, if I pursued employment?”
“No!” he said. He didn’t even have to think about that one. “Why would I care about that?”
“Elias would have cared,” she said.
“Well, that’s because he was a dickhead.”
Too much? Hetty was silent for a moment. “I admire your talent for useful vulgarity.”
Was that a compliment? From Hetty? Nice!
A thumping at the door made Trevor startle, and then the door flung open. It must have been unlocked. Outside stood another Viking, one Trevor had never seen before.
“FATHER!” he yelled. “IT IS I, YOUR SON, BJORN! I HAVE TRAVELED MANY MILES TO SEE YOU! ARISE FROM THE DREAMLANDS!”
Thor thudded to the top of the stairs. “BJORN! IT IS I, YOUR FATHER!” He tore down the stairs.
“FATHER!”
“SON!”
The two men embraced each other. There was a lot of loud backslapping.
“Very sweet,” said Trevor.
Hetty rolled her eyes.
“Oh, don’t pretend,” Trevor told her. “You love it, you big softie.”
She burrowed in a little closer. “I suppose, if our romance does last, and you did want to be a father, we could always buy an orphan or two.”
Oh, Hetty. So bossy, and so funny. “That’s the spirit,” he said.