He was lost in thought, pulling down the chairs, when the room seemed to shift slightly. The air grew thick and stagnant. The clock on the wall, ticking the seconds away, stuttered. He looked up to see the second hand move forward once, twice, three times before it moved backward. It twitched back and forth as the hairs on Wallace’s arms stood on end.
“What the hell?” he muttered. “Nelson, did you see—”
He was cut off when the file folder burst into existence next to the cash register with a comical pop! Wisps of smoke drifted up around it as it settled onto the counter. It was thin, as if it only held a few pieces of paper inside.
“Oh boy,” Nelson said. “Here we go again.”
Before Wallace could figure out what that meant, Hugo and Mei came through the doors, Apollo trailing after them. Hugo frowned as he glanced up at the clock, the hands frozen.
“Dammit,” Mei said. “Of course it comes when I’m making muffins.” She grumbled as she headed for the stairs, untying her apron before pulling it up and over her head. “Don’t let them burn,” she called down. “I’ll be very upset.”
“Of course,” Hugo said, looking down at the folder. He touched it with a single finger, tracing along the edges.
“What is that?” Wallace asked, going to the counter.
“We’re going to have a new guest,” Nelson said, rising from his chair. He hobbled over to Hugo and Wallace, cane tapping against the floor. “Doubling up. Haven’t done that in a while.”
“Another guest?” Wallace asked.
“Someone like us,” Nelson replied. He stopped next to his grandson, peering down at the folder with barely disguised interest.
“Yes,” Hugo said, touching the folder almost reverently. “Mei will retrieve them and bring them back here.”
Wallace wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d grown accustomed to having Hugo’s undivided attention, and the thought of another ghost taking that away caused a strange twist in the hook in his chest. He told himself he was being foolish. Hugo had a job to do. There’d been many before Wallace, and there’d be even more after he was gone. It was temporary. All of this was temporary.
It stung more than he expected it to.
“What’s that for?” he asked, rubbing his chest with a grimace. “The folder.”
Hugo looked up at him. “All right?”
“I’m fine,” Wallace said, dropping his hand.
Hugo watched him for a beat too long before nodding. “This tells me who’s coming. It’s not complete, of course. A life can’t be broken down into bullet points and be comprehensive. Think of it as a sort of Cliff’s Notes.”
“Cliff’s Notes,” Wallace repeated. “You’re telling me that whenever someone dies, you get Cliff’s Notes about their lives.”
“Uh-oh,” Nelson said, looking between the two of them. Apollo whined, ears flattening against his skull.
“Yes,” Hugo said. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
Wallace was incredulous. “And you didn’t think to say anything about this before?”
“Why?” Hugo asked. “It’s not like I can show you what’s in here. It’s not meant for—”
“I don’t care about that,” Wallace snapped, though it wasn’t the whole truth. “You have one on me?”
Hugo shrugged. It was infuriating. “I did.”
“What did it say? Where is it? I want to see it.” And that wasn’t quite the truth either. What if it was bad? What if across the top, written in bold letters （and in Comic Sans!） was a summation of Wallace Price’s life that was less than flattering? HE DIDN’T DO A WHOLE LOT, BUT HE HAD NICE SUITS! or, worse, NOT THAT GREAT, IF I’M BEING HONEST!
“It’s gone,” Hugo said, looking back down at the folder on the counter. “Once I review it, it disappears again.”
Wallace was incensed. “Oh, it does, does it? Just disappears back to wherever it came from.”
“That’s right.”
“And you don’t see the problem with that.”
“No?” Hugo said. Or asked. Wallace wasn’t sure.
Wallace threw up his hands in exasperation. “Who sends it? Where does it come from? Who writes it? Are they objective, or is it filled with nothing but opinionated drivel meant to defame? That’s libel. There are laws against it. I demand you tell me what was said about me.”
“Oof,” Nelson said. “I’m too old and too dead for this.” He shuffled away from the counter toward his chair. “Let me know when our new guest arrives. I’ll put on my Sunday best.”
Wallace glared after him. “You were wearing pajamas when I got here.”
“Your observational skills are unparalleled. Good for you.”
Wallace considered throwing a chair at him. In the end, he decided against it. He wouldn’t want it going into a file.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Hugo said, chiding him gently. “There’s no list of pros and cons, or of every action someone has taken, either good or bad. It’s just … notes.”
Wallace ground his teeth together. “What did my notes say?”
Hugo squinted at him. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone has written something about me, I’d like to know.”
Hugo grinned. “Did you look up reviews of your firm when you were alive?”
Every Tuesday morning at nine. “No,” Wallace said. Then, “Unless that was written in my file. And if it was, I had a very good reason. I pissed off a lot of people, and everyone knows if you want to complain about something, you write it on the internet, even if you’re a liar who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
Wallace scowled at him.
“Or not,” Hugo said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You sure you want to know?”
Wallace balked. “Is it … bad? Like really bad? Lies! It’s all lies! I was a mostly competent person.” He cringed inwardly. Once, he might have fought tooth and nail to upsell himself, but now, he couldn’t do it. It felt … well. Ridiculous was probably the best way to put it. Ridiculous and pointless.
Nelson snorted from his chair. “You shoot for those stars.”
Wallace ignored him. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. You just stand there acting smug like you always do.”
“You wound me,” Hugo said.
Wallace sniffed. “I highly doubt that. I don’t even care. Look. Look at how much I don’t care.” And with that, Wallace turned on his heels, going back to the task at hand. He managed to take down two more chairs before he caved. Hugo was amused as he stalked back to the counter. “Shut up,” Wallace muttered. “Just tell me.”
“You lasted a whole minute,” Hugo said. “Longer than I thought you would. I’m impressed.”
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
Hugo shrugged. “Gotta get my kicks from somewhere, right, Grandad?”