Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“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?”