Page 24 of First Street (Harbor View Cozy Fantasy #1)

Chapter Twenty

Ocean

After storming upstairs, Ocean didn’t hear a single sound from downstairs for what felt like hours. So much for her epic temper tantrum. It clearly hadn’t made the impact she was going for.

Her mom usually wasn’t the type to just let things go. She liked to talk it out, explain her side, make sure Ocean explained hers. She wasn’t into punishments or groundings for dramatic effect. Not like Ivy’s parents. That just wasn’t her style.

Ocean knew she was stressed. She knew there was a lot on her mom’s plate.

Still…the real estate agent was coming tomorrow.

Her mom didn’t sound thrilled about it, but she wasn’t stopping it from happening, either.

And they hadn’t even been here a full week.

Her grandma wasn’t even buried yet. They hadn’t done any of the things Ocean thought they’d do. Not one.

Ocean had called out to Jo a couple of times after she went back to her room. Nothing. Not even a creaking floorboard. Jo had to know what was going on. How sad would it be, just floating around, watching a hundred years of family memories get packed up and disappear?

Jo didn’t really know her. Not like she’d known Skye. And now everything was changing so fast. If the house sold, new people would move in. Total strangers. What was Jo supposed to do, pop out of a wall and give them the full haunted house tour?

It must be weird, trying to explain your whole…afterlife to people who didn’t even know your name. She showed herself to Ocean, sure, but only because she was Skye’s kid.

Would she even bother with the next family?

While she was still stewing, Ivy called. They talked about nothing and everything. Ocean didn’t mention Jo. Not even once. She wasn’t ready to tell her. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she ever would be.

At some point, her mom called upstairs to ask what she wanted for lunch.

Ocean didn’t answer. Obviously. Then, like an hour later, the doorbell rang.

She ran to her mom’s bedroom at the front of the house to peek.

A delivery guy stood at the door with boxes of pizza.

Plural. Like her mom had ordered the entire menu or something.

That almost made up for it.

Almost.

A few minutes later, the reason for all the extra food showed up.

The same older guy Ocean had met downstairs walked in, followed by two others.

Her age. Total bro-types. Handsome in that too-confident way.

Boots, t-shirts, and baseball caps on backwards.

They had that whole I lift heavy stuff for fun vibe.

Definitely the kind of dudes her friend Ivy would be hot for.

Ocean bolted downstairs, grabbed a couple slices of pizza, and escaped before her mom could rope her into anything awkward. She was already in the living room, deep in conversation with the movers about hauling stuff out to the barn and keeping only Grandma’s things inside.

She spotted her, but Ocean made it back upstairs before a conversation could start. She still had to play mad.

The afternoon turned into a full-on frenzy.

Ocean kept sneaking peeks through the windows, watching the movers carry boxes and furniture to the barn.

She was glad her mom seemed to be holding onto things for now.

She wasn’t done going through the boxes.

Henry’s letters had been in one of them.

Who knew what else she might find for Jo.

The weird part was, Grandma Clare had those letters, but Jo didn’t know anything about them. That had to mean it was a new find. A recent estate sale. Something Jo hadn’t seen yet.

While all that was swirling around in her head, the books from Arthur’s bookstore became the perfect distraction. Some pages had sticky notes, and now that Ocean knew Jo had marked them, she was even more obsessed. She started a list of every place she had flagged, planning to visit them all.

Her mom had promised they’d do a sightseeing day. Just the two of them. Ocean was still totally counting on it.

Some time after the moving guys left, Ocean’s mom called upstairs to say she had to run a few errands. She asked what she wanted for dinner.

Ocean didn’t answer.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Then a soft knock on her door, and she poked her head in.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Ocean said.

Her mom looked exhausted. And sad.

“I’m not selling the house tomorrow. The agent’s just giving me some numbers.”

“Whatever,” Ocean muttered, shrugging.

“Grandma’s funeral is next Wednesday.”

Ocean stared down at the open pages of the book in her lap, her throat tightening. Would that be it? The final step? Pack up and leave right after?

“We should go shopping for a dress before then.”

She shrugged again. Didn’t really care. Even though shopping used to be her thing.

“The bank closes at five. I have to get there before then. We’ll talk tonight.” She started to pull away, then paused and poked her head back in. “Take a look downstairs. It looks pretty cool. The way it used to be.”

She left the door open and went down the stairs. The second Ocean heard the front door click shut, she grabbed her dirty plate and headed downstairs.

What she saw made her feel like she’d come home.

The front room looked just like it had when Grandma was alive. The bookcases, her desk—everything was back in place. Ocean could almost see her sitting there, glasses low on her nose, while Ocean sprawled on the floor with her books.

Grandma used to smile and say that one day, this place would be Ocean’s if she wanted it. What do you think?

“What do I think?” Ocean repeated, her voice catching. “I want it. I’ll do it. I want to keep your memory alive.”

The words felt too big for her. Too grown-up. Too final. But she meant every single one. Saying them out loud made her chest ache, but it also felt…right. Like a promise. To Grandma. To herself.

She stabbed at a tear before it could fall and wandered into the sitting room. That room was back to normal too. Warm and familiar, like Grandma Clare had just stepped out for a minute and might come back in at any moment.

Then her eyes landed on the shelf of photo albums. She used to pull them down every time she visited. She’d sit and flip through them for hours, amazed that they had real printed pictures of her growing up. Not just some blurry screenshot on a phone.

Grandma Clare kept them. All of them.

Ocean put her plate in the kitchen sink and went back to the sitting room. She pulled half a dozen albums off the shelf, dropped to the floor, and sat right in the middle of them. It was memory time. Emotion time. The kind of time that sneaks up on you and makes your throat hurt for no reason.

She was flipping through her baby pictures. One of her wearing a sunhat way too big for her head. Another of her smearing cake all over her face at her first birthday.

It felt kind of strange, seeing herself frozen in time like that. Back when life was easy. Before things got messy. Before Grandma died. Before her mom stopped smiling so much.

Then she caught a whiff of lavender. Soft and sudden. A second later, Jo appeared, kneeling beside her like she’d been there the whole time, just waiting for the right moment to make herself seen.

Ocean didn’t bring up that morning. She figured Jo already knew about the real estate agent, about Skye’s plan to sell the house. Jo had a way of knowing things. She was nowhere and everywhere at once.

“I was wondering when I’d see you.” Ocean thought of the blue envelopes upstairs. “Did you read the rest of the letters?”

Jo nodded.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Henry loved me. Missed me.” She sighed. “I knew that already, but it was good to see the words he’d written.”

Jo looked away, and Ocean thought that it would be wrong to pry any further into it. Even though it happened a long time ago, it had to feel like yesterday for Jo.

Maybe it was weird, but she felt...lonely. The kind of lonely that clung to your ribs and ached.

Actually, it wasn’t weird. She’d lost someone important. She’d lost her grandmother.

And Ocean had a connection to this place. Why wouldn’t the thought of leaving hurt? She had a feeling this was something she didn’t need to explain to Jo.

People moved on, in spite of the pain. They packed up. Let go.

But ghosts? Ghosts stayed.

So she changed the subject.

“Jo, can you see these photos?” she asked.

“Of course I can see them,” her ghostly new friend said, giving her a look like she’d just asked if the sky was blue. “I’m not blind, doll. Just dead.”

“Can you smell things too?”

Jo breathed in the air dramatically, then gave her a sideways grin. “Can’t speak for the rest of the dearly departed, but I can. Which is quite unfortunate when someone microwaves fish. Death does not spare you from another’s bad decisions.”

Ocean laughed. “Grandma Clare used to microwave fish sticks.”

Jo made a face. “Exactly. They smelled like regret and sea trash. I nearly crossed over just to get away from it.”

“You can cross over when you want?” Ocean asked, eyes wide.

“No, I can’t. That was an expression,” Jo said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t get literal on me.”

“So…what can you do?”

“I can sit here and visit. Be delightful. Offer unsolicited opinions. Isn’t that good enough?”

Ocean smiled. “No, that’s great.” An idea hit her, and she pulled out her phone, holding up a picture of her and Ivy. “Can you see what’s on my screen?”

Jo leaned in. “Yes. Two teenagers dressed like Fashion lost a bet.”

Ocean snorted. “That’s Ivy and me. She’s my best friend.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jo said. “I stand by what I said.”

“So, you can talk through the phone?”

“Technology is hit or miss, for some reason,” Jo replied with a dramatic sigh. “But I have no desire to press buttons. Do you know how much effort it takes for me to even try touching things? It’s like trying to thread a needle with smoke.”

“Like hugging me?”

“Exactly. Hard work,” Jo said, her tone softening. “But worth it. Totally.”