2:55 p.m.

Filled with misgivings, Laura steps off the bus in Geneseo at last.

Her flight was delayed for hours due to heavy rains sweeping western New York. As she sat endlessly waiting by the gate at JFK airport, it was all she could do not to turn and leave the airport. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she had already checked her bags, and she knew the plane wouldn't be able to take off without her on board to go with her luggage.

Now that she's here, though, she desperately wishes she hadn't come.

She's desperately tired, and desperately hungry, and after paying the bus fare, she has less than five dollars to her name.

Not sure what will greet her when she reaches the purple house-but certain the fridge contents will be spoiled and the cupboards bare as usual-she decides to stop at the Speakeasy Cafe first. She might just barely be able to afford a cup of coffee and something small to eat.

Stepping into the warm, cozy room, with its exposed brick walls and battered hardwood floors, Laura is comforted by the strong, welcoming scent of coffee and baked goods. The small, round cafe tables are filled with college students, none of whom give her a second glance. That's fine with her. She heads for the counter, with its colorful chalkboard menu, and does some quick math. Yup. If she buys coffee and a m.u.f.fin, she'll have about twelve cents left over.

Then what?

Then you'll figure it out, she tells herself. One step at a time.

She waits on the line, pretending to be absorbed by the television set mounted on the wall: breaking news on CNN. There's been a catastrophic earthquake today in Shanghai.

Watching the footage of traumatized people being pulled from the rubble, Laura feels as though she can relate to them: her world has been shaken to the core, and nothing is familiar.

"Well, look who's back in town."The tattooed, heavyset female cashier behind the counter eyes her suitcases.

"h.e.l.lo,"Laura says politely, trying not to panic.

Just because the woman, who happens to be a longtime neighbor on her block of Center Street, has noticed that she's been away doesn't mean- "I heard about your mother."

Oh, yes it does. Well, of course people know . Being arrested for murder is big news. National news. How could Laura have fooled herself for one instant into believing that the people of Geneseo aren't buzzing?

The cashier, with sympathetic eyes, leans closer to Laura and whispers, "The cops have been in here looking for you."

"When?"

"A few times. Most recently, last night. A coupla detectives from Florida. They've been asking for you all over town, I heard. They said it's real important that they talk to you, and they asked me to call them if I saw you. Now, I can pretend that I didn't, if you want to make yourself scarce again . . . but you might just want to get it over with. Sooner or later, they'll catch up with you, and if you've got nothing to hide . . ."

"I don't,"Laura tells her, surprised by her kindness- and her offer. "Do what you have to do."

The woman nods. "You poor thing. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Conscious of a pair of coeds who have come up behind her, waiting to order, she says, "No. Thank you, though."

"Okay. What can I get for you, then?"

Her appet.i.te is gone, but she has to eat something. Once she gets back home, she's not going to venture out again for a long, long time. "Can I please have a coffee and a corn m.u.f.fin?"

"Sure. Large or small on the coffee?"

Again, she counts the bills and change in her hand. "Small,"she says reluctantly.

The woman fills a large cup, anyway, and puts several m.u.f.fins into a white paper bag. "Here,"she says, "it's on the house. You just take care of yourself."

Her eyes tearing up, Laura gratefully takes the bag. For the first time, she dares to think she might just be okay here after all.

TWENTY-NINE.

Ithaca

Sat.u.r.day, October 13

3:07 p.m.

"Why don't you two sit here and finish eating,"Dad suggests to Calla and Kevin, standing and picking up his tray containing an empty soda can and white paper plate stained orange with pizza grease, "and I'll take the car down the road and gas up for the trip."

"I'm actually just about finished,"Calla tells him quickly, not wanting to be left alone in the cozy little pizzeria with Kevin.

He reaches out and touches her hand. "Stay, Calla. I really want to talk to you."

Feeling helpless, she shrugs.

"I'll be back for you in about ten minutes,"her father says, and heads out the door.

It was his idea to take Kevin with them for lunch. The two of them carried on a stilted conversation, small talk about college life at Cornell, as Calla halfheartedly nibbled at her pizza.

The strange thing is, as much as she didn't want to run into Kevin . . .

It's kind of comforting to see him.

Scary- comforting.

"Look, I figured you didn't want to see me today,"Kevin tells her, pushing away his half-eaten second slice of pizza.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Pretty much."He gives an uncomfortable laugh. "I mean, here you are, right here on campus, and you didn't call me."

"I'm sorry."

"I guess I shouldn't have waited around the information center, checking out all the tour groups coming through today, but I really wanted to talk to you."

"It's okay. I know I should have told you I was going to be here today, but . . ."

But I really couldn't deal with seeing you again.

"You've had a lot going on,"he fills in for her. "I know . Lisa called and told me. I didn't want to bring it up in front of your dad."

"About my half sister? My dad knows."

"I wasn't sure. How do you feel about it?"

"Glad. Upset. Scared to death."Kind of how she feels about seeing Kevin again.

"Your grandmother said that they haven't found her yet."

"No."

"What are you going to do when they do?"

"I'm not sure. Meet her, I guess."

"It'll be weird for you to suddenly have a sister after all these years, you know?"

"I know ."

"But maybe it'll be nice. You know . . . like a link to your mom."

"Yeah."Calla smiles faintly, folding and unfolding her cold pizza on the plate. "That's what I'm thinking."

"You know, it's strange to see you and your dad without your mom around. I really miss her."

Touched, Calla looks up and is surprised to see tears in Kevin's blue eyes.

"She always made me feel so good about coming to school here,"he tells Calla. "You know- like she was really proud that I got in."

"She was proud of you,"she tells him, wiping at tears in her own eyes with the corner of an unused napkin. "You know her. Ivy League was her thing."

Like Lisa, Kevin might not have as much in common with her daily life now as her new friends do-but he grew up with her. He knew the old, carefree Calla, before her world fell apart. He knew her mother. Jacy and Evangeline and the others didn't. Kevin feels her loss in a way they never will.

You can't just write him out of your life, Calla tells herself. As hard as it is to accept the way he hurt you, you can't erase all those years- or the feelings you still have for him.

Maybe it's not love anymore, not the kind a girlfriend has for a boyfriend, anyway. Maybe it's the kind of love you feel for a good, true friend. Maybe that's all she and Kevin were ever meant to be.

"You know, Calla, your mom would have loved to know that you're thinking of coming here, too."

Calla nods. "Except . . . I'm really not."

"You're not?"

"No. I don't want to be this far from home."

He's obviously disappointed. "So you're going back to Florida, then, for school? I mean, my sister will be thrilled, but-"

"No, I mean home, in Lily Dale."

"Really?"

She nods. "I can't go back to Tampa, Kevin. Too much has happened there- and here. I think I want to stay put for a while."

"I know . Seeing you there, when I visited . . . it was like you already belonged, even though . . ."

"Even though what?"

"Even though they all . . . I mean, they go around talking to ghosts, right? That's what Lisa told me."

She's getting tired of defending Lily Dale. "It's not like that."

"What's it like?"

"You wouldn't get it."And she doesn't feel like explaining.

"Try me."

She raises an eyebrow. "You really want to know?"

"I really want to know ."

So she tells him. The whole story. Including the part about her own newfound abilities.

When she's finished, Kevin isn't sitting there looking skeptical or spooked, and he doesn't call her-or her grandmother and her new friends- a bunch of freaks. He's just . . . intrigued.

"So, these spirits that you see . . . are they all around us?"

She glances around the pizzeria. In a nearby booth, she sees a 1940s-era G.I. cuddling his girlfriend, who has pompadour bangs and dark lipstick. In another, she sees a grunge musiciantype in a flannel shirt and combat boots. And hovering behind the busboy is a worried sixty-something woman- his grandmother, probably.

"Yeah,"she tells Kevin. "They're all around us."