Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) Read Online Free Page A

afternoon trotting along on a tour of a
church, she couldn't quite figure out any more. Seriously, this was
suicide; she was so hot and sticky. And if redhead kept on
interrupting, they'd be here forever.
    When Celeste had seen the
little brochure advertising this group, she'd thought spending the
afternoon in a very cool, massive stone building was just the thing
to do. Now she was regretting it. Now she was wondering why she
hadn't just climbed in her car to spend the afternoon trying to
find the house she was meant to be looking after. That would have
been a productive use of her time. On the other hand, buying an ice
cream, having it melt all the way down her arm, and sweltering in
the sun in a graveyard was just as horrible as it
sounded.
    Still, it was kind of nice
to learn about the history of the town, considering she was meant
to be saying here for a couple of months. When she'd agreed to
house sit for a friend of her mothers, Celeste had jumped at the
opportunity. Gresham City was all the way on the other side of the
State, and was meant to be an incredible spot. It had massive,
spruce-filled forests leading down to a rocky, beach-covered
coastline. It was meant to have a lot of history too, a lot of old
buildings, a lot of ruins to explore on cool summer mornings. Plus,
the house she was meant to be looking after was fantastic. The
owner, Susie, had sent several photos by email. A beautiful
three-story place that looked over a field that lead down to its
very own beach.
    It would be perfect for
Celeste. She worked from home as a freelance programmer, so it was
easy enough to take work with her. And the chance to combine that
with a holiday, seemed far too good to pass up.
    ‘ This is the headstone of Solomon
Clarke himself,’ the tour guide walked around a fairly
plain-looking tombstone, then he rested his hand reverently on top
of it. ‘Despite Solomon's achievements, and despite his eye for
detail, you will note that when it came to death, he received no
fancy headstone or personal crypt. Just a plain headstone was good
enough for a man of God.’
    Celeste glanced over at the
age-worn stone before her. His name and the year of his death were
carved into it, though now they were hard to make out, as years of
weather had worn them down, caking the engraving with mud and
dust.
    The redhead immediately
leant down, coming as close to the tombstone as she could without
actually standing on the grave.
    Not for the first time,
Celeste caught herself wondering just what Miss Redhead did for a
living. And, more importantly, why she was so damn interested in
Solomon Clarke and his crypt.
    Celeste ran a hand over her
neck. It felt hot and sticky, and she just knew it was sunburnt.
She was covered in sweat too; the blue singlet she'd stripped down
to was unpleasantly wet under along her back. The second she got to
the house, she was going to have a shower, a long and cold one.
Then maybe she was going to head down to the beach.
    ‘ We usually tour around the
entire graveyard, as many historically significant citizens of
Gresham City were buried here. However, because of the heat,’ the
tour guide stuck a finger into his collar and pulled it away from
his neck, ‘I think it best we retire inside.’
    There was almost a cheer
from the group, and Celeste practically pushed herself into a run
as she headed back to the cool church before her. That didn't stop
her from noticing that Miss Redhead stayed behind, casting a hand
down the carved tombstone of Solomon Clarke. She watched as her
fingers traced the letters of his name.
    Celeste hung back, just
outside the doors, ignoring the fact the group had already pushed
on before her.
    Miss Redhead grabbed her
phone from her pocket. Her fingers fumbled with it, but Celeste was
too far away to see what she was doing. Perhaps she was taking a
photo, or perhaps she'd just got the sudden urge to text somebody.
But in another moment Miss Redhead was done, and she snapped to her
feet.