A Gift of Ghosts (Tassamara) (2 page)

A two-year contract? That was ridiculous. The contracts used at
General Directions were typically for short-term contract labor, three or six
months at most. Why would Max want this woman to commit to such a long stay?

“Did he say anything else?” Zane asked Grace, not hiding his
surprise.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“But . . .” He glanced at Akira. “Excuse us for just a
minute.”

Standing, he took Grace by the arm and ushered her into the
hallway, pulling the door almost closed behind them. In an urgent whisper, he
asked, “What job does he want me to give her? What exactly is she supposed to
do for us?”

Grace shrugged.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I love seeing you confused, darling.” Grace patted his
cheek. “She’s not the usual type, is she?”

“Has Max lost his mind? She’s a physics professor. I thought
I was hiring a . . .” He glanced back at the door, realizing that Akira might
be able to overhear them. “It’s not like I interview every employee. Shouldn’t
Smithson be hiring the scientists?” he asked, naming the head of GD’s research
division.

Grace shrugged again.

“Well, is she supposed to work for special affairs or research
or what?”

“You know as much as I do. I guess it’s up to you.”

“Okay.” Zane sighed. Did he want the mouse working for him or
not? Well, yes. A reluctant smile crossed his face.

Back in the office, he sat down behind the desk. She looked
quite miserable. She had the kind of face, fluid and expressive, that would
have been wonderful on a stage—even the audience in the farthest reaches of the
theater would be able to see her emotions. But it might have been better for
her if she’d been a better actress, more able to hide what she was feeling.

Zane had planned to continue asking her questions while he
tried to figure out what to do with her, but he couldn’t resist ending her
misery. “So we’d like to offer you a job,” he found himself saying. “You’ll
need to sign a two-year contract. And what’s your current salary?”

“I—what?” she asked.

“Your current salary?” he repeated patiently.

She named a figure, but then added, “But wait . . .”

He added twenty-five percent to the number and said the new
total out loud, then added, “And Florida is much less expensive than
California. You’ll find your standard of living quite different in Tassamara, I
suspect.”

“But wait,” she said again. “What do you want me to do? What
would the job entail?”

“Research.” He smiled, probably a little too brightly, while
he tried to figure out what the right answer to that question might be.

“But I don’t even know what General Directions is. It’s an
extremely vague name. What does the company do?”

“Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Some
government work, some private research, some investments in other companies.”

She frowned at him, and he couldn’t resist the urge to tease
her a little. Quite solemnly, he said, “Nothing X-rated, of course,” as if that
was her paramount concern. Her eyes widened, and he tried not to smile, but a
quiver of mischief escaped.

Narrowing her eyes, she forged forward, obviously determined
to ignore his distractions. “My concern is the government work. Are you a
defense contractor?”

“Do you have reason to believe you wouldn’t get a security
clearance?” he asked, interested now.

Again, she looked startled. “No, but I don’t want my research
used to make weapons.”

This time he looked surprised. “Do you think that’s likely?”
He flipped open the folder again and looked at the minimal material inside.
What exactly was her work?

“Well, I don’t know.” Her exasperation was clear. “I haven’t
completed it yet. I don’t have any results. But I’d like some reassurance that
if I do have any interesting findings, they won’t be promptly locked up in a
top-secret project for military use.”

“I can assure you that we have never developed any weapons
for the government. Any government.”

“So what do you do for the government? Any government?” She
repeated his phrasing pointedly, and he couldn’t resist smiling at her. She didn’t
smile back, but for just a moment, a dimple appeared in her cheek.

“Oh, ah, well . . .”

“Don’t tell me. A little of this, a little of that?”

“More or less.”

“So you’re offering me a job, but you don’t want to tell me
anything about what the company does, or what I would be doing?”

“Something like that.”

She frowned, and he could see the indecision on her face, so
he added, “I can tell you that you’ll be free to pursue your own research. On
sonoluminescence . . .” He stumbled over the name, then added, “. . . or
whatever.” He doubted she’d actually be researching that science stuff for
long: Max must know something more than he was saying about what she was capable
of.

She was still looking doubtful, so he slid the non-disclosure
agreement across the desk to her. “Sign that, I’ll give you a tour, we can talk
about what kind of lab and equipment you need, and then you can decide.”

He took out a pen and added the salary figure to the two-year
contract, then showed it to her. “You will have to commit to two years. But there’s
no need to think about that until you’ve had your tour.”

***

Akira took a deep breath before starting the car. She was not
at all sure how she felt about this, but apparently she was going to move to
Florida. She couldn’t suppress a little glow of joy when she thought about the
beautiful labs she’d seen. Even her uncertainty about why exactly she’d been
hired couldn’t dim her delight at the idea of uninterrupted time to do nothing
but explore her ideas.

“You look happy,” the boy in the back seat said. “Maybe you
did win the lottery.”

Akira didn’t respond, but her happiness dimmed a little.

“I wonder who you saw in there. Let’s see. Maybe I can figure
out what you do. Maybe you were selling something? No. Maybe you’re a librarian?
No.” The boy gloomily sank back into his seat and said, “This game’s not much
fun when I’ll never know.”

He looked out the window, and sighed. “Twenty-five minutes to
the airport and then back to the parking lot.”

Akira bit her lip. “So, what’s your name?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he leaned forward again. “You can
see me!”

“Yeah, but don’t get all excited about it.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t spoken to anyone in months. I’m
trapped in this car. I mostly sit in a parking lot. And you’re living!”

“Again, don’t get all excited.” Akira knew exactly how this
was going to go, and it wasn’t going to be fun. She probably should have just
kept pretending she didn’t see him. But he’d looked so sad and she’d been so
happy. She hadn’t been able to stay cold to him.

“So, do you help me? Like, find a light or something?”

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Her voice was dry. “No,
unfortunately, I don’t know anything about lights. And if you want me to go
talk to any relatives—well, it never ends well. I’d really rather not.”

“But isn’t that what you do?”

“No, that’s just how it works on television.” Akira sighed
and flipped her blinker on. The guard shack was just ahead, and she didn’t want
to be seen talking to herself.

“But . . . but you can see me!” She glanced back at him in
the rear view mirror. Yes, she could see him, and he was quite a charmer,
really. He must have been about fourteen or fifteen when he died, tall and
gawky in that adolescent way, all arms and legs, with a shock of curly dark
hair and intense blue eyes.

She pulled out onto the busy street, and with the guard
safely behind her, asked again, “Do you have a name?”

“It’s Dillon. You mean you really can’t help me?”

She shook her head. “Not so much, no.”

“Man, that bites.” He flopped back against the seat again,
looking disgusted. “I finally find someone who can see me, and she’s useless.
Um, no offense.”

Akira bit back her smile. She didn’t mind useless, actually.
She’d heard worse. “I can listen,” she offered. “And I know a little.”

“Do you know why I’m stuck?” he asked. “I mean this can’t
happen to everyone. I met a guy at a gas station once, but it’s not like the
roads are crowded with us.”

“Oh, there’s a fair number of you on the highways, actually.
It used to be quite a nightmare for me when I was first learning how to drive.
I kept getting distracted. My dad would . . . never mind.” She shook that
thought away.

She glanced at her watch. “I don’t have to be at that airport
for the trip back to Orlando for about five hours. Where do you want to go?”

“You’re serious?” he asked.

She nodded. “But no relatives, please.” She looked pained. “Honestly,
it never works out well.”

***

She’d been given clear instructions on where to drop off the
car, but as she drove up to the parking lot, she couldn’t help worrying. Unlike
the usual rental car experience, she’d been told she’d be met by someone who
would collect the keys.

“So you remember what I told you, right?” she asked Dillon.

“Every word,” he assured her.

“Work on stretching. I know the bounce-back is no fun, but if
you practice, you’ll find that you’re able to get farther and farther away from
the car. It’s like exercise, it’s going to be painful at first, but the rewards
will be worth it.”

“I will. Are you kidding? Being out of this car would be so
great. I’ll practice every day.”

“And avoid the ghosts with the red edges. If you see someone who
looks like they’re outlined in red, go the other direction.”

“I will,” he promised, but this time with less enthusiasm.

“I’m serious. I know you’re lonely and you probably think any
company is better than none, but it’s not. The red ghosts are bad news.”

“I’m already dead. What can they do to me?”

“Oh, sweetie.” She shook her head. “If you think boredom is
the worst thing that can happen, then you didn’t watch nearly enough television
while you were alive. Trust me on this one.” She turned and stared at him, eyes
intent, knowing that she was probably the first person who’d looked directly at
him since his death. “Stay away from ghosts with red edges.”

He nodded.

“And stretch.” She pointed a finger at him and smiled, and he
smiled back, a mix of emotions fighting for precedence on his face.

She spotted someone approaching through the back window, and
said hastily, “Gotta go. You take care.”

Stepping out of the car, she greeted the young woman. As she handed
over the keys, she impulsively said, “I’m going to be moving to this area in a
few weeks and I’ll need to lease a car. Is there any chance that this one might
be available?”

The girl looked startled. She glanced from the car to Akira
and back to the car again, before saying, “This car? But . . . um, well, I
guess. I mean, I don’t know. I can ask.” Her tone was doubtful.

“That would be great,” Akira said. “Do you have a number or
something I could call when I get back?”

“Sure. Yeah. You could ask at GD. Ask Grace.” The girl nodded,
her uncertainty disappearing. “Grace will know. She’ll be able to help you.”

Akira had decided that Florida was creepy. She was beginning
to doubt her decision to move here. Again. For only the hundredth time.

She hadn’t even gotten out of the car at the first house
Meredith, the realtor, had shown her, despite Meredith’s protesting, “Oh, but
it’s a darling little house. Recently remodeled, fully updated inside, the
latest appliances, and the rent is very reasonable.”

Akira had just sighed and said, “It’s not right for me.” The
cranky old woman ghost on the front porch had waved her fist at them as they
drove away, although Akira was sure that the faint “good riddance” she heard
was her imagination.

At the second house, Akira stopped at the bedroom door and
swallowed hard. It was unfurnished, the walls freshly-painted a light
off-white. Meredith strode in, talking about the adjoining bathroom as if the translucent
weeping girl on the floor, holding a baby, and rocking back and forth, was
invisible. Which, of course, she was—to the realtor. Suicide? Akira thought
dispassionately. Maybe natural causes for the baby, and then mom’s grief drove
her to kill herself? Or perhaps a post-partum depression murder-suicide?

“Aren’t you going to come look? It’s really quite lovely.”
Meredith had a chirpy voice. Akira was beginning to dislike it.

“No, thank you,” Akira said calmly. “I don’t think it’s right
for me.” Turning, she marched out of the house and straight to the car. By the
time Meredith caught up, she was already seated and buckled in the
passenger-side seat, staring straight ahead.