chapter 17
It had been exactly two weeks since Amaranth’s funeral and the first lesson at the Chesapeake Grille. It was late in the evening and James had just finished writing in his journal, tinkering with a new idea for a script about – of all things – a dead teacher who comes back to haunt his former students.
Aren’t you meta? It was Sage’s voice from their last trip to The Mill.
Sometimes, reality is stranger than fiction, he countered and waited for Sage’s rebuttal. When gratefully there was none, he grabbed his coat and keys and headed out to the Microbus, hell bent on fresh coffee despite the hour.
A white SUV pulled into the driveway, blocking the old Volkswagen. A tall gentleman, wearing a baseball cap, walked toward him in a silhouette cast by the headlights.
“Tell me it’s m
