Considering the storm brewing outside, the back part of Paulie’s house was bright as sunshine. The walls in the kitchen were yellow, the appliances were stark white, the sink deep and filled with fresh-cut flowers standing in water.
There were no ghosts.
“Wow,” I said.
“Working with darkness, you stay in the dark.” Paulie put a teakettle on. “Got some of your auntie’s chamomile tea here. I do not know how she makes it.”
“With love,” I said.
Paulie smacked his lips. “That is the truth,” he said. “I can taste it. You wanna cup too?”
I nodded. “Sure,” I said, settling onto a chair the color of limes. “But you know what else I want.”
Sigh. “Answers.”