His food, he decided, was worth paying attention to.
He was sighing over his perfect steak when Zoe emerged from her marathon shower. Wrapped in a big bath towel, she looked like the little mermaid with her curls damp and hanging down. Alex liked seeing her in that intimate, comfortable state—probably more than someone who, according to her, wasn't "in love" with her should. It felt good that she wasn't self-conscious around him.
"Yum," she said, inhaling the aroma of charbroiled meat.
"I got you what I have," Alex assured her, but her eyes had already left the table. She was staring at the corner of the room behind him, her gaze unfocused, her attention caught. A chill prickled over Alex's scalp. He remembered that look of hers from high school.
"Um, Alex?" she said, still not facing at him. "Do you have an Uncle Harry or maybe Harvey who passed when you were pretty young?"
"My father had a best friend whose name was Henry," he said unsurely. "He was close to all us kids. Sometimes he'd tease and call himself our favorite uncle."
"Well, he's showing me his shoes." A grin flickered over her face a second before she laughed. "They're very blue. Like, glowing neon blue. He's saying, 'Remember Elvis. Remember the radio.' "
"Oh, my God," Alex breathed, the hair on his arms standing up in waves. "Elvis's Blue Suede Shoes. That was Uncle Henry's personal theme song. Every time it came on the oldies station, he'd turn it up so loud us kids would cover our ears and scream. I'd forgotten that completely until just now."
"He's talking really loudly, too," Zoe said, laughing. "Like he's got a bullhorn. Let me give you his message before my ear falls off. He says… excuse me, he's insisting I repeat it at his volume. He says, Stop worrying about your heart! He says there's nothing wrong with it, it's just big. Nobody on the other side would judge you for how many folks you love. He says as long as you do love, when you cross over you won't have regrets."
She turned to Alex then, her affection shining so brightly it brought a burn to his eyes. "He's says he's going to start talking to you directly when this is over, so you better get ready to not pee your pants. He says he's been watching over your family like a guardian angel, but his job would be easier if he had you to pass messages."
"Me?" Alex was so startled he dropped the fork he hadn't remembered he was holding. "I'm not psychic."
"He says you are, Alex, and he's showing me a big heap of presents, like for a birthday. No…" She paused for a moment, her head tilted to the side. "He says these were gifts you were born with, this giant heap up to the ceiling, and you've only opened a few. He says you need to start tearing off the wrapping, 'cause they're all for you."
"That's crazy," Alex said, his breath coming like he'd run up a flight of stairs.
"Henry doesn't think so. He's nodding at me emphatically. He says I said what he meant just right. And now he's crossing his forearms over his heart to say he loves you, and he's going now."
Zoe crossed her arms over her chest just like Alex had seen his father's friend do a thousand times. If he hadn't been sitting already, he would have had to then. Every muscle in his legs was trembling. Zoe had never done a reading for him before. If this was how her clients felt when they got one, it was no wonder they were impressed. His head was floating, and every color in the room seemed impossibly beautiful and bright. Zoe herself looked as if rays of sunshine were shooting out of her skin.
I could forgive myself for what I did, he thought, the moment of clarity extraordinary. And then it wouldn't matter what anyone in this town thought.
The idea almost frightened him.
"Wow," he said, incapable of uttering another word.
Zoe took the chair next to him and squeezed his hand. "That was good. Your uncle really came through clear."
"I can't believe he took the trouble to talk to me."
"Oh, you're worth more trouble than that," Zoe teased. "Especially since it sounds like he plans to try again later."
Alex shivered involuntarily, and Zoe laughed.
"You're in for it now, buddy. At least, when whatever he meant by 'when this is over' happens."
Alex glanced at Bryan to see what he made of this. To his surprise, Bryan was engrossed in working on his laptop. He appeared not to have noticed his and Zoe's exchange.
"Find something?" Alex asked.
"Hm?" said Bryan as he read whatever he'd called up.
"Magnus Monroe? What have you turned up?"
Bryan shook himself. "Lived at his current address eight years, owns the house and the land, no mortgage. Two years before that, his residence was an apartment."
"His business is doing well," Zoe said. "So that no mortgage thing isn't strange."
She grimaced when Alex lifted a brow at her. She must have realized she'd come off like she was defending him. Rather than apologize, she tucked her towel more firmly beneath her arms.
"Criminal record?" Alex asked, since he had no reason to defend her would-be boyfriend.
"Not that I can find."
"And where was he before ten years ago?"
"Dunno yet," Bryan said.
"What about incorporation?" Alex suggested, determined to find something. "If he runs his business that way, the Secretary of State website will have records."
Bryan gave him a look like, Who's got their fingers on these keys?, but he did as Alex asked.
"No luck," he said a minute later. "We'll have to track his earlier history some other way."
"You know where he went to college?" Alex asked Zoe.
Zoe looked embarrassed. "He never mentioned it."
Her acting like it was her fault she didn't know this joker better stole the last of his patience.
"Let me," he said to Bryan, dragging the chair back with him in it. Bryan ceded his place with an eye roll that Alex ignored. Maybe his gut couldn't be trusted in this particular instance, and maybe Zoe liking Magnus more than Alex thought she should wasn't a real basis for mistrust. All the same, it had struck him from their first meeting that there was something off about the guy. Magnus was too damn big and smiley to be for real.
He cracked his knuckles and set to work, his fingers flying as deftly over the keys as they'd once sent passes spiraling down the football field. Voter registration was kind enough to supply Magnus's Social Security number, always a useful snippet for a search. Then Alex thought, What does it mean when you can't trace someone's history more than ten years?.