He nodded at the screen and what it was showing: The night before, there had been a shot of something walking through the living room and going out the front door. Now, it could have been a guest up for a midnight snack, like Gregg had just been--except for the fact that it dematerialized right through the wooden panels. The thing just disappeared.
Kind of like the shadow outside her bedroom from the first night. Not that he liked thinking of it. Or that dream of hers.
"You haven't retouched this?" Holly said.
"Nope. "
"God. . . "
"I know, right? And the network just e-mailed me while I was downstairs. They're so on fire, apparently the Internet's gone nuts over the promos already--all we have to do is pray that thing shows up a week from now when we go live. You sure your coffee's okay?"
"Oh, yes, it's. . . amazing. " Holly glanced up over the rim of her mug. "You know, I've never seen you like this before. "
Gregg leaned back against the pillows and couldn't help but agree. Hard to know what had changed; there had been a shift inside of him, however.
Holly took another sip. "You seem really different. "
Unsure what he should say, he kept it about the work. "Well, I never actually thought ghosts existed. "
"You didn't?"
"Nah. You know as well as I do all the fixes I've pulled. But here in this house. . . I'm telling you, something is here and I'm dying to get onto the third floor. I had this crazy dream about going up there. . . . " As a sudden headache cut off his thoughts, he rubbed his temple and decided he had eyestrain from having been on a computer for the past seventy-two hours straight. "There's something up in that attic, I'm telling you. "
"The butler said it was off-limits. "
"Yeah. " And he didn't want to buck the guy too much. They had so much good TV to roll out, it wasn't like they needed more--and no sense pushing it. Last thing he wanted was to run into trouble with the management this close to airdate.
And it was very clear Mr. Spit and Polish didn't like them.
"Here, let me show you again. . . this is what really amazes me. " Gregg reached forward and restarted the file so he could watch that figure disappear through the solid door again. "That's pretty damn incredible, right? I mean. . . did you ever think you'd see something like that?"
"No. I didn't. "
Something about the sound of her voice brought his head toward her. Holly was staring at him, not the screen, while cradling her mug right to her heart.
"What?" he said, checking to see if he'd spilled on his shirt.
"Actually. . . it's about the coffee. "
"Bad aftertaste?"
"No, not at all. . . " She laughed a little and drank some more. "I just never would have guessed you'd remember what kind of coffee I like, much less go to the trouble of making it for me. And you've never asked me what I thought about work before. "
Jesus. . . she was right.
She shrugged. "And I guess I'm not surprised that you never believed in what you were doing. I'm just glad you do now. "
Unable to keep the eye contact going, Gregg looked out over their two pairs of socked feet, to the windows on the far side of the room. The moon was barely visible through the lace of the curtains, nothing but a soft glow on the dark horizon.
Holly cleared her throat. "I'm sorry if I made you feel awkward. "
"Oh. . . yeah. . . no. " He reached over and took her free hand, giving it a squeeze. "Listen. . . there's something I want you to know. "
He felt her stiffen--which made two of them. He was suddenly bracing himself as well.
Gregg cleared his throat in the thick silence. "I color my hair. "
There was a tense pause--at least on his part. And then Holly broke into bubbling laughter, the sweet, happy kind that came with relief.