A Spirited Gift Read Online Free

the large windows on the back side of the inn, overlooking the turbulent Atlantic.
    The crystal chandeliers above us flickered and swung a little from side to side, the large teardrops tinkling loudly. The power stayed on—but a sense of uneasiness crept into the big room.
    I managed to avoid Mad Dog and get through the crowd to reach the podium. Despite the storm’s furious pounding, I knew no real warnings had gone up across the Outer Banks. Chief Ronnie Michaels of the Duck Police and Fire Chief Cailey Fargo were standing together, both in their dress uniforms. They were drinking punch and acting like nothing was wrong. This wouldn’t be the case if the storm was really serious.
    â€œI thought that last one was going to do us in,” Kevin said as I reached him. “I remembered that I only have a handful of candles. The generator is ready to go out back, but somebody would have to go outside and start it.”
    â€œAnd in the meantime, we’d have some panic going on in here.” I watched the crowd. Most of them were either from the Outer Banks or from one of the cities along the coast. They could probably handle any problem from the storm without too much fuss—not that I wanted to find out.
    â€œAre you ready?” Kevin smiled and adjusted the microphone for me.
    â€œI think so. Thanks.”
    I waited for him to step back, then addressed the group. People stopped talking and everyone looked up at me. “Before I launch into my welcome speech, I thought I should point out that our police and fire chiefs are here with us in the ballroom. You all know what that means—the weather sounds bad, but it’s really nothing to worry about.”
    Everyone laughed and applauded. The thunder and lightning continued to pummel the outside world around us, but we were okay. I started into my often-rehearsed speech—our guests laughed and applauded at just the right spots. I could see Nancy out of the corner of my eye mimicking the words as I said them. She’d heard the speech often enough.
    As I spoke, I thought about the steel gray ocean churning and spitting at the edge of the sand. Trees were blowing,  pushed around by the harsh winds. Debris was flying everywhere—the town needed to issue a memo about taking in or tying down lawn furniture before a storm. It would take days of overtime for our maintenance department to pick up all the chairs, cushions and grills and find where they all belonged.
    I finally finished speaking—it seemed like it took forever. Despite my words of assurance to everyone else, I still felt the storm raging outside. Maybe it didn’t look so bad, but I was beginning to feel something more coming toward us.
    I looked out at the faces of people I knew and those I’d never met before. They all seemed calm and relaxed, enjoying the party. Wine and food flowed freely—maybe that helped.
    Or maybe I was the only one ill at ease.
    I couldn’t seem to shake that feeling that had come with the séance. I could only describe it as a feeling of dread. I kept smiling anyway—that was part of my job as mayor. I forced myself to relax and eat something. I chatted and sipped some excellent muscadine wine from one of the local vineyards.
    I wished the reception was over and I was home in bed.
    That was unusual for me. Normally, I loved these situations. But not tonight. I wanted to pull the covers up over my head and listen to the storm rumble by in the night. I lived with my grandfather in the house several generations of our family had owned and loved. I’d feel safe there—not just from the storm but from the strange uneasiness lurking at the edge of my brain. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But I knew it wasn’t just my imagination.
    â€œDae!”
    I heard my name in a high-pitched, girlish voice and looked around to find another mayor waving to me. It was Sandi Foxx, the redheaded former TV