Casting About Read Online Free PDF

spot. After a moment, I walked to the bed and tentatively put out a hand to touch the blue wool. How the hell did the sweater end up in here? I hadn’t been in this room in ages. And yet—there it was, all folded neatly on top of the spread.
    As I picked it up, I suddenly became aware of a fragrance floating in the air. Gardenias—my deceased grandmother Sybile’s favorite scent.
    Oh, this is insane, I thought. I’m just stressed out with Clarissa’s arrival. Could I have absentmindedly put the sweater in here? I sniffed the air, looking around the room. Two twin beds done up with white eyelet comforters and shams, a mahogany table between with a crystal lamp. Except for an antique comb and brush set, the bureau top was empty. No perfume bottles or potpourris of gardenia.
    For a split second I recalled what Saren had said the day before about Sybile’s spirit. I didn’t believe in ghosts. There was no proof of such a thing.
    Taking the sweater, I walked to the front hall to hang it up and saw Aunt Dora coming up the walkway.
    â€œHey,” she said, through the screen. “I brought you some blueberry muffins. Got time for a coffee break?”
    â€œSure,” I told her, pushing open the door.
    She followed me to the kitchen.
    I measured coffee into the filter, my mind still on the appearance of the blue sweater.
    â€œYou’re quiet today. Everything all right?”
    â€œYeah, I guess.” I poured the water into the coffeemaker and joined her at the table. “The oddest thing just happened,” I said and went on to tell her about the sweater and the gardenia scent in the room.
    To my surprise, she didn’t laugh or admonish me for being silly.
    â€œHmm, interesting.”
    â€œInteresting? That’s all you have to say? I mean, I suppose I could have put the sweater in there—but I don’t see why I would’ve done that.”
    Dora remained silent for a few minutes before speaking. “Well, you have to admit, my sister was a pretty strong personality. Who knows…maybe Saren isn’t as silly as we think.”
    â€œSo what are you saying? That you believe in ghosts?”
    â€œAll I’m saying is, the older you get—things aren’t always as they seem. Sometimes we should let go of preconceived notions and just be more open to what’s around us.”
    â€œOkay, so let’s just say that Sybile’s spirit is hovering around this house. What’s the purpose? Why would she be here?”
    â€œYou were very close to her, Monica. You hit it off the first time you met and seemed to have a connection . Maybe she’s here to give you a message or some comfort.”
    â€œA message? About what? And why would I need comfort from her?”
    â€œI’m sure I don’t know. Is that coffee ready?”
    I got up to get the cups and turned around to face Dora. “Would you go with me into the bedroom? See if you can smell the gardenias?” That room was beginning to give me the creeps, and now I was wondering if perhaps I should put Clarissa into the other bedroom.
    â€œSure,” my aunt said, leading the way.
    We walked over the threshold and stood there for a few moments. I could no longer smell the scent. Everything seemed in order. Sunlight streamed through the windows creating cozy warmth, making me feel foolish for allowing myself to be frightened.
    â€œI don’t smell a thing,” she said, looking over at me.
    â€œI don’t either. It’s gone. Okay, let’s just forget the whole thing.”
    Dora walked farther into the room. “I would imagine Clarissa will love this room. It’s so pretty and feminine.” She put a finger to her lips, and I knew she was thinking.
    â€œWhat? Something wrong with the room?”
    â€œNo, not at all. It’s beautiful, with the white eyelet comforters and matching curtains. It’s just