That magic moment, p.1
That Magic Moment, page 1
That Magic Moment
A SUPERNATURAL SPEAKEASY COZY MYSTERY BOOK NINE
LILY HARPER HART
HARPERHART PUBLICATIONS
Copyright © 2022 by Lily Harper Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Prologue
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
Mail List
Acknowledgments
Books by Lily Harper Hart
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Prologue
TWENTY YEARS AGO
“You’re full of it.” Felix Archer narrowed his eyes and gave his father Oscar a serious look. “You’re making that up.”
Even on the best of days, Oscar wasn’t what could be considered an easygoing man. He was prone to histrionic fits—something he refused to acknowledge—and most people considered him a nut. No, that wasn’t a clinical term. He’d heard the whispers from the other people in the Quarter, however. He knew what they thought about him. Heck, he recognized his children were starting to wonder the same thing. Is Daddy crazy? Still, he smiled.
“I’m not making it up.” Oscar might’ve been a difficult man but there was little he loved more than hanging out with his children. “Ghost ships are real. They don’t often end up on the river side of the city, but in the Gulf areas, they’re totally a thing.”
“That’s crap.” Felix might’ve still been a child—he’d just turned ten—but Oscar was convinced he was showing signs of being a tempestuous teenager early. He wasn’t looking forward to what would happen when Felix’s hormones took over. For right now though, the boy amused him. “Fe, did you hear what he just said?” Felix demanded of his younger sister.
For her part, Ofelia Archer was harder to read. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a haphazard braid—she insisted on doing her own hair because she was convinced that her mother Marie did it wrong—and her blue eyes were brimming with an emotion Oscar couldn’t identify. “I believe in ghost ships,” she said finally before turning her attention to the woman selling flowers down the riverwalk. When Marie informed Oscar that she was inviting her friends over for tea, he’d known he needed to escape the house. It only made sense for him to take the children with him when he fled. There was little Marie hated more than loud children when she was hosting a party with her chatty hens…a term that Oscar used only when his wife wasn’t around to hear him.
“You believe in ghost ships?” Oscar beamed at his daughter. Technically, having a favorite child was frowned upon. Oscar was a brutally honest man, however, and he could acknowledge—at least internally—that he favored his younger child. He couldn’t explain why, although he had a feeling it was because he recognized he and Felix were going to have issues as his son aged.
“Of course I believe in ghost ships.” Ofelia made a face. “Can I have some flowers?”
The transition threw Oscar, but he nodded. The flowers offered by the street vendors were cheap. Sure, they died after three days, but he was more than willing to pay five bucks so his daughter would smile. “Yes. I want to hear why you believe in ghost ships first though.”
“It’s because she watches stupid movies,” Felix volunteered. “She’s not supposed to watch horror movies, but I caught her the other day. She was watching a movie about a ghost ship.”
Ofelia scowled at her brother. “You’re such a tattletale.”
“I’m not a tattletale.” Felix was scandalized. “You’re a butthead is what you are.”
“Stop.” Oscar flicked his son’s ear and shook his head. “I don’t care that your sister watches horror movies. She never wakes us up because she has bad dreams. Only one of you does that, and it’s not your sister.”
Felix’s gaze was dark. “I did that once…and I was five.”
“You still do it and you’re the reason we made that rule.” Oscar was firm. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to give your sister grief because she likes watching horror movies.”
“Ha!” Ofelia was haughty.
“You need to watch yourself,” Oscar chided. “If your mother catches you, she will give you grief.”
“That’s because she gets no joy from life.”
Oscar stilled. “Your mother gets joy from life,” he said finally. “She just doesn’t get joy from the same things we do. That’s okay. People are different.”
“I’m never going to be like her.” Ofelia was firm. “She doesn’t believe in ghost ships. I can guarantee it.”
Oscar hesitated but ultimately nodded. She wasn’t wrong. Marie most definitely didn’t believe in ghost ships. “Do you believe in the ghost ships because you like those movies, or is there another reason?” He couldn’t deny he was legitimately curious. Over the past year, Ofelia had been showing signs that she might be “more” than just a little girl. This was New Orleans and Oscar was a paranormal buff. He knew the city was crawling with paranormal creatures. He didn’t know how he felt about his daughter joining their ranks, but he was convinced it was going to happen.
Ofelia held out her hands and shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it matter? Can I have blue flowers?”
Oscar’s lips quirked. Ofelia’s mind was always firing on all cylinders. He often wondered what it was like to be trapped in her brain, which had to be a busy place. “You can get whatever flowers you want. We’ll buy them in a few minutes. I want to hear more about the ghost ship.”
“Why?” Ofelia’s eyebrows moved together, suspicion propelling them. “Why are you asking me about ghost ships?”
“Because he told us that story about a possible ghost ship landing in the Gulf because he wanted to scare us,” Felix shot back. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Knock that off,” Oscar warned. “What have I told you about calling your sister stupid?”
“That it’s mean,” Felix replied. “She calls me stupid all the time though.”
“Yes, and I yell at her too. Neither of you are stupid. I am curious about the ghost ship thing though.” His eyes were somber when they locked with his daughter’s frustrated orbs. “Just tell me and we’ll buy your flowers. I’ll even stop for some iced teas in Jackson Square when we’re done.”
Ofelia let loose a heavy sigh, the sort that told him she was also going to be a tempestuous teenager…maybe even worse than her brother. “I had a dream.”
Oscar’s eyebrows winged up. “You had a dream?”
“That’s what I said.” The defiant look Ofelia shot Felix warned him what would happen if he gave her an ounce of guff. “I had a dream.”
“About a ghost ship?”
“It wasn’t like the one in the movie,” she said hurriedly. “It was different. It was like the Natchez.”
Oscar ran the information through his head. “You’re saying it was a steamboat.”
“Yes.” Ofelia rubbed her palms over her shorts. “It crashed into the shore…but here.” She gestured at the area beyond the riverwalk, toward the Mississippi. “It was empty.”
“The steamboat was empty?” Oscar was having trouble following her. “I don’t understand.”
“The people on it are gone. It’s out there floating around, but nobody can see it.”
“Oh, so it’s an invisible steamboat,” Felix drawled. “That sounds totally believable.”
Ofelia ignored him. “There are ghosts on it. They want to get away. They can’t right now though. They’re stuck there and won’t be able to leave for a long time.”
“And the ghosts told you that in a dream?” Oscar was flummoxed. “Why would they tell you that?”
“Because they say that I’m going to be the one to help them someday.”
“Help them do what?”
Ofelia held her hands palms out and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a dream, right?”
Oscar hesitated and then nodded. “It’s just a dream.” He confirmed it for her even though he wasn’t convinced it was true. He figured arguing that particular point might frighten her, however, and that’s the last thing he wanted. “Did they say anything else?”
“Just that I had to save them one day…and they would be waiting.”
“That’s it?”
“There might have been something about a cat too. I can’t remember. They were whispering.”
The obstinate tilt of Ofelia’s jaw told Oscar that she was going to start pushing back—and maybe melting down—if he wasn’t careful. She wasn’t enjoying the conversation, which meant she would start throwing punches—both verbal and physical—if he didn’t give her a break.
“It’s okay.” He flashed a smile for her benefit. “I was just curious. I love a good ghost ship story.”
“Maybe you should watch the stupid movie with her,” Felix suggested. “Then Mom can yell at both of you together.”
“Maybe I will,” Oscar r eplied. “If you tattle on us to your mother, I’m going to tell her about that box of candy you keep under your bed that she’s not supposed to know about. Yeah, that’s right.” He bobbed his head. “I know about the candy.”
“Have you been eating it?” Betrayal flashed hot across Felix’s face. “I’ve been saving up for that candy forever and it’s mine. You better not have been eating it.”
“I think I can afford my own Twix,” Oscar replied as he straightened, extending his hand to Ofelia. “I’m just warning you what’s going to happen if you don’t get with the program. Stop tattling on your sister.”
“Yeah.” Ofelia stuck her tongue out at her brother.
“You’re not getting any candy either,” Felix warned, his lower lip coming out to play. “You’re a butthead.”
“Geez.” Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand to ward off the oncoming headache. “You guys are too much. Have I ever told you that?”
“Just every day,” Felix replied.
“Well, it stands.” Oscar gestured toward the woman with the flowers. “Now, come on. Your sister wants flowers and I promised you guys iced teas. I think they have some musicians playing over by Pirate’s Alley today. How about we get some snacks and listen to them a bit?”
“As long as we’re done talking about the ghost ship, I don’t care,” Felix replied.
“There’s little I love more than making you happy, son,” Oscar drawled. His eyes drifted toward Ofelia as they began to walk. “Do the ghosts in the dream ever scare you?” he asked in a low voice.
Ofelia shook her head. “Ghosts aren’t scary. They just want to be free.”
“That’s good I guess.”
“Yeah, but have you ever wondered what scares ghosts?” Ofelia was earnest now. “Because I have, and if you’re already dead, what do you have to be scared about?”
Oscar swallowed hard. “I’ve never really thought about it. You have a point though. Are you scared?”
Ofelia shook her head. “Not today.”
“That’s good. If you’re ever scared in the future, I want you to come to me. That’s what dads are for.”
“And I thought you were just here to buy me flowers,” Ofelia teased.
“That too.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m being serious though. If you’re ever afraid, come to me. I’ll fix things.”
“Okay, but I’m not afraid.”
Oscar fervently hoped that would be the case for the entirety of her life. He knew better though. She was destined to live a different sort of life. He could only wonder how it would all turn out for her.
One
PRESENT DAY
“It sounds too structured.”
Felix Archer, painted in head-to-toe silver paint, struck a macho man pose as he flexed for a nearby group of women. He was supposed to be perfectly still when serving as a human statue in Jackson Square, one of the premier tourist destinations in New Orleans’ French Quarter, but he was never one to follow rules.
“What sounds too structured?” his sister Ofelia Archer demanded, her hands on her narrow hips. She’d only been in her brother’s presence for five minutes and she was officially at her limit. “I haven’t even told you what I want.”
“You said you were looking for someone to help you manage your new building when the construction is finished,” Felix countered. “Since you think I don’t work, I’m assuming that means you want me to be the one to help you.”
Ofelia swung her jaw back and forth. She loved her brother beyond reason—no, really—but he had an unerring way of driving her insane. He was the one person in the world who knew how to hit every one of her buttons…and he seemed to enjoy doing it. “Felix,” she started in her sternest voice.
“Fe.” Felix’s tone was teasing as he struck another pose, this time for a group of girls—Ofelia was convinced they couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen—and caused them to giggle.
“Stop that!” Annoyed, Ofelia flicked the ridge of his ear, and then scowled at her finger when she pulled it back and realized it was covered with paint. “Those girls aren’t old enough to flirt with.”
“They look legal to me,” Felix countered.
“You’re thirty,” Ofelia reminded him. “Legal does not mean they’re appropriate.”
“Legal means they’re legal and that’s all that matters.”
Exasperation reared up and grabbed Ofelia by the throat. “I thought you were looking for a soulmate.”
“And I thought you told me that love has to happen, it can’t be forced.”
She had told him that, although she wasn’t thrilled he was throwing it back in her face. “Felix, I’m being serious.” She adopted a measured tone. It was one her brother hated, but she didn’t care. “The new building is going to be a great opportunity. It’s still months away from being finished, so you can keep doing…this…until then.” She made a face as she watched him perch on one leg. “I’ve never understood the point of doing this, however.”
As if on cue, two tourists threw money into the hat Felix had placed on the ground directly in front of him before continuing on their way.
“That’s why I do it,” Felix replied. “It’s how I make a living.”
“This is not a job.” Ofelia didn’t mean to screech the words, but she couldn’t help herself. “This is just a hobby that occasionally brings in a few bucks. It’s not even an interesting hobby.”
“Now you sound like Dad.”
Ofelia narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits. Oscar Archer was many things, including occasionally being a good father, but Ofelia was well aware of Felix’s opinion of Oscar. It wasn’t flattering, especially since Oscar struggled with undiagnosed mental illness. Ofelia was convinced he was bipolar, but until they could get an official diagnosis—something Oscar refused to do—they were treading water in a dangerous ocean. Sometimes it felt like she was surrounded by sharks.
“Felix, I can’t believe you just said that to me,” Ofelia growled. “I am nothing like Dad.”
“He constantly gives me grief about what I do for a living,” Felix countered as he straightened and posed like a bodybuilder for a pretty brunette’s benefit. She had coffee from Cafe du Monde and purposely sat on a bench so she could have a clear view of Felix’s show.
“That’s because this isn’t a job,” Ofelia groused. She gave the woman a dark look, as if to say, “he’s not good enough for you” and then shook her head. “Felix, I’m trying to help you,” she insisted. “You’re the one who said you were considering going back to school to get a business degree. You could work for me while you’re doing it. I could give you flexible hours. It would be a great steppingstone.”
“It would also be set hours and a lot of responsibility.”
“So?”
“So, you know how I feel about responsibility.”
Ofelia did indeed know how her brother felt about responsibility. He acted as if he were allergic to the mere thought, and it drove her insane. He was the older brother, but she was the one who had it together. She found the entire situation frustrating.
“Felix, I’m trying to position myself as a businesswoman,” she reminded him. “I have a plan for how I’m going to do that.”
“Fe, you’re already a businesswoman,” he pointed out reasonably. “You own a business.”
“I own Dad’s old business,” she shot back. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Krewe, but I want to be bigger than that.”
“You mean you want to be bigger than Dad.”
She frowned. “I mean that I want to make sure that I never have to worry about money.” She chose her words carefully. Felix didn’t worry about the same things she did, and it drove her insane. It wasn’t that she wanted to pigeonhole her brother—she loved his free spirit—but she didn’t think responsibility was the worst word in the English language. “Why are you not even considering this?”
