Ghosts Gone Wild: A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries Book 2)
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Ghosts Gone Wild
A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery BOOK TWO
Danielle Garrett
Copyright © 2017 by Danielle Garrett
Edited by Magical Words Edits
Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Books By Danielle Garrett
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About Danielle Garrett
Books By Danielle Garrett
BEECHWOOD HARBOR MAGIC MYSTERIES
Murder’s a Witch
Twice the Witch
Witch Slapped
Witch Way Home
Along Came a Ghost
Lucky Witch (Fall 2017)
BEECHWOOR HARBOR GHOST MYSTERIES
The Ghost Hunter Next Door
Ghosts Gone Wild
When Good Ghosts Get the Blues (Fall 2017)
Introduction
There’s never a good time for a ghost crisis.
However, it's particularly inconvenient while I'm trying to tackle my first wedding season. Between twelve hour days, an assistant with a case of butter fingers (not the chocolate kind), and the flood of tourists in town, I’m struggling to keep a grip on my sanity.
All I want is three months of peace from the spirit world.
But when local ghosts start going missing, I have to do something.
After all, it’s not like they go to the Hamptons.
Missing ghosts, a posthumously alimony-hungry divorcee, and a raging bridezilla. Yup, my bingo card was officially full. Can I get a prize and go home now?
Chapter 1
It’s a new dawn. A new day. A new life. A new … everything, and it’s stressing me out.
With wedding season in full swing, business at my flower shop was booming. As a rookie florist, the prospect of having to fulfill the small town’s floral needs single-handedly was daunting. To say the least. I’d hired an assistant to take some of the pressure off my shoulders, but … well, let’s just say it wasn’t working out quite the way I’d planned. In just two excruciating weeks, she’d managed to flood the walk-in cooler, break the coffee machine, and total my brand-new delivery van.
Lizzie Hartwell was a sweet, well-meaning girl with an interest in floral design, an easy smile, and—until a week ago—a clean driving record. I was new to being the boss lady and hadn’t yet found a gentle way to let her go. At the same time, summer was here, and I was in desperate need of an extra set of hands to help get me through wedding season—regardless of how clumsy they might be.
When the sound of shattering glass caused me to drop the birds of paradise I was placing in a large-scale tropical arrangement, I started to rethink my Ms. Marshmallow stance.
“Sorry!” Lizzie called from the front of the shop.
“Another one bites the dust,” Gwen said from her place at the front counter. She was snooping through the computer that pulled local and online orders.
“You’re the one who recommended her!” I hissed to my ghostly gal-pal.
Gwen shrugged her translucent shoulders. “I swear, I never noticed the butter-finger thing when she worked as a shampoo girl at Lucky Lady.”
I sighed. It wasn’t her fault. As Beechwood Harbor’s gossip queen, she buzzed through my flower shop on a daily basis to see who was sending flowers to whom—and why. Then she carried the scoop back to the Lucky Lady Salon, where the primo gossip percolated. When Lizzie had answered my help-wanted ad in the local newspaper, Gwen signed off without hesitation.
Still, I couldn’t blame her for missing the shy girl’s utter lack of hand-eye coordination when there was so much hot gossip zinging around. No, at the end of the day, hiring Lizzie had been my call and I’d have to live with it, at least until I could woman up and let her go. Or until she burned the shop down and I no longer needed an assistant.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. “Is it really too much to ask that we go one day without something ending up broken?”
“I don’t think so,” Gwen said, drifting away from the computer.
She doesn’t know the meaning of rhetorical.
Doing my best to keep the irritation out of my voice, I called, “Everything okay out there?”
“Yeah! I’ll get it all cleaned up right away!” came the frantic reply.
I drew in a slow, cleansing breath. “When I hired an assistant, I didn’t realize I needed to have padding installed on the floors. I also didn’t think that she’d be assisting me by putting my van in the body shop for a week,” I whispered to Gwen.
Gwen offered a sympathetic frown. “She means well.”
I opened my eyes and gave a slight nod. “I know. That’s what makes it so hard to get rid of her.”
“Not to mention you’re super swamped right now.” Gwen smiled as she tossed her long, sun-bleached hair over her shoulder, sending her feather earrings jangling. “It’s Four Weddings and a Funeral over here! Literally!”
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled, unable to match her level of enthusiasm. Truthfully, it was all a smidgen overwhelming. I’d gone from a wanderlust world traveler to a one-woman show under the microscope of a tight-knit community that seemed to be closing in on me a little bit more each day. In the past two weeks alone, I’d been forced to quick-talk my way out of three separate offers to set me up on a blind date. The locals wanted to get to know their newest resident and it appeared that the more I tried to close the door, the harder they were willing to push.
All of that was more than enough to keep me just inches from the brink of losing my sanity, but then the ghosts got involved and things went from barely manageable to circus-monkeys-loose-in-department-store crazy in two seconds flat.
“You okay, Scarlet?” Gwen asked when I started massaging my temples.
“I’ll be fine,” I told her. “I’m just feeling a little frazzled today.”
A Cheshire grin spread over her delicate face. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Lucas is coming back into town tonight, would it?”
“No,” I said before heaving a sigh. “It has everything to do with th
e fact that I am van-less for the rest of the afternoon and have three deliveries to make.”
“Doesn’t Lizzie have a car?”
“She has half of a car,” I replied, twisting my lips into a sour pout. “It’s one of those mini something-or-others that has no cargo space whatsoever.”
Lizzie rounded the corner from the front of the shop into the studio space and carefully dumped a dustbin full of shattered glass into the large trashcan by the back door. She shot me a guilty look. “I’m really sorry, Scarlet. You can take it out of my paycheck.”
“That’s cute that she still thinks she’s getting one.” Flapjack, the ghost of my childhood Himalayan cat sauntered into view from underneath my workbench. “If I were you, Scar, I’d give her walking papers before she takes out anything else.”
Lizzie was not gifted/cursed with the ability to see ghosts and stood wringing her hands as Flapjack handed down his sentence.
I sidestepped the fluffy ghost and placed a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Lizzie. Accidents happen.”
Flapjack made a sneeze-slash-cough sound that clearly communicated he thought I was being a pushover.
I ignored him. “If you can make a note of what was broken, I’ll take it out of the inventory database.”
Lizzie looked up at me through her thick lashes, her brown eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Are you sure? You’re not going to fire me?”
It was all I could do to keep myself from sighing. Instead, I forced a smile that I hoped came across as warm and shook my head. “I’m not going to fire you, but please try to be careful. I know we’ve been busy since you started, but it’s okay to slow down. We’ll handle the workload. Okay?”
Lizzie gave me a timid smile. “Thank you, Scarlet.”
The phone rang and Lizzie sprang into action. “I’ll get it!”
“At least she’s good at that,” Flapjack said as Lizzie rushed to answer the phone by the cash register. “Then again, teenage girls usually are. Heaven knows I suffered through your Chatty Cathy phase.”
I frowned down at my one-time pet. “No one asked you to stick around and listen in on all of those calls. It’s not like you’re bound to me. You could have gone anywhere, done anything. You know what I think? I think you liked listening to all those giggly conversations, just like you liked hanging around for my slumber parties and birthday parties. You even followed me on my first date!”
Gwen covered her mouth to stifle a laugh but her shaking shoulders gave her away. “Aww, Flapjack, I always knew you were a big softy!”
Flapjack’s eyes narrowed in Gwen’s direction. “For your information, I was keeping her safe!”
“From what? Face masks and terrible rom-coms?” Gwen asked, barely able to contain another laugh.
“I was talking about her first date,” he replied, swishing his tail.
Lizzie came around the corner before I could further question my self-appointed, pint-sized guardian. That was the other downside to having an assistant hanging around—it made talking to the ghosts nearly impossible without looking like a raving lunatic.
“Kimberly Gardner is on hold,” Lizzie said, a nervous lilt to her voice as she held out the phone. “Line one.”
“Ugh.” I groaned as I took the phone. “What now? Let me guess—she’s changing the order again? That would make it what … the fifth, no, sixth time? The wedding’s in three weeks. How many times is she going to do this?”
Gwen gave me a pitying look as my finger hovered over the illuminated button for a moment longer. Finally, I clicked onto the line.
“Hello, Kimberly. This is Scarlet. How can I help you?”
Silence greeted me on the other end.
“Kimberly?” I waited another beat and then put the phone back down and shrugged. “Guess she hung up.”
Gwen looked past my shoulder and her expression darkened.
The bell on the front door jangled and my shoulders fell. I didn’t need to turn around to know who had just wandered into the shop.
“I tried to call.”
I slapped a serene smile on my face and pivoted on my heel. Kimberly stood, arms folded and one Louboutin tapping the welcome mat, with a sour look on her face. “I apologize, Kimberly. I was mid-design. What can I do for you today?”
“I’ve reconsidered my bouquet. The lilies would be a mistake,” she said, pausing only to dig into her large purse and pull out a bundle of glossy bridal-magazine pages. She strutted across the shop and slapped them onto the counter. With dizzying speed, she flipped through the multitude of sticky-noted pages and stopped on a spread that showed a table loaded down with decadent centerpieces. “I think something like this is more … me.”
Gwen scoffed over my shoulder. “That’s practically a carbon copy of the drawing you did two weeks ago!”
While I agreed whole-heartedly, I kept my smile buttoned up tight. I couldn’t verbally agree with Gwen for a couple of reasons. First, because she’s a ghost. Secondly, because Kimberly Gardner was a client. An incredibly important one. She was the first bride-to-be at the newly opened Lilac Bed and Breakfast, a historic home that I’d become entwined with a few months earlier. Let’s just say there had been one seriously pissed-off ghost in residence during the renovation and without my help, the entire house would have ended up a crumbled heap of rubble. Thanks to my help with the spooky situation, I’d earned the exclusive right to provide florals for all events, including Kimberly Gardner’s upcoming nuptials. Yay me?
Oh, and the whole thing was going to be on TV, adding another few degrees to the pressure cooker I found myself living in. The Lilac B&B’s renovation had been featured on a popular home-improvement show, Mints on the Pillows, which resulted in a flock of bridezillas looking for a slice of the limelight when the show returned to film a special segment on the venue. Enter stage left: Kimberly Gardner.
She was by far one of the most demanding, entitled women I’d ever met, and thought for some delusional reason that her nuptials should be on par with something from the royal family across the pond. I honestly wasn’t sure why she wasn’t throwing her wedding in some kind of swanky Los Angeles hotel or on a tropical beach somewhere. Beechwood Harbor was a lovely town, tucked along the rustic Washington State coastline. Lush greenery collided with the majestic ocean, separated only by miles of sandy beaches. It was a beautiful place to have a wedding, but it wasn’t quite up to the standards splashed through the newsstand’s worth of bridal magazines that Kimberly was armed with 24-7. Rumor (Gwen) had it that Kimberly was a huge fan of the show and that her family had paid nearly triple the asking price to have her wedding be the christening event for the B&B’s outdoor venue. To say the wedding was going to be over the top would be the understatement of the decade.
“Are you even listening to me?” Kimberly snapped.
My shoulder stiffened and I bit back the fiery retort on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I offered a placating smile. “Of course, Kimberly. I was making some mental notes, that’s all.”
“Well?” Her overly plump lips protruded into a duck pout. Had she had more work done since her last visit?
“I’m not normally a violent person, but this woman has me wishing I had the use of my hands,” Gwen said, pantomiming a strangling motion at the woman opposite me.
“If I had the use of my claws, I’d join you,” Flapjack said, jumping up onto the counter.
I rolled my eyes, only realizing a moment too late that Kimberly wouldn’t understand why.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“No, no, no,” I said, scrubbing at my face. “My eyes are just really dry today. Allergies, you know? I should have put some eye drops in earlier.”
Kimberly sighed. “You know what? I think I’m going to speak to Sonya again. This is clearly too much for you to take on right now and, as I’m sure you can understand, I really need someone with more experience handling my wedding florals.”
Heat flashed over my skin and
I planted my hands on the counter to keep them from shaking. I gritted my teeth but managed to hold onto what little patience I had left. I didn’t want to kiss up to the woman, but she was a top-dollar client and my first bride with the Lilac B&B, an important business partner. So, it was time to pucker up. Just a little. “Kimberly, I’m going to make sure that you will be carrying the perfect bouquet when you walk down the aisle to become Mrs. Casper Schmidt.”
Yeah, that’s right. Her fiancé’s first name is Casper. I nearly spit out my coffee when I’d taken the order.
My plan worked; Kimberly took on a certain glow anytime she heard the phrase Mrs. Casper Schmidt, and it tended to knock her down a few pegs below homicidal. The effect would strike me as adorable, perhaps even enviable, if she wasn’t such a ginormous pain in my rear.
She’d plunked the magazines back on the counter and returned her attention to me. “It’s all going to be fine.” I picked up one of the glossy sheets from the counter. “Now, should I make a photocopy of this page, or may I keep it for reference?”
Kimberly’s phone rang. She waved a finger, shushing me before ripping it from the outside pocket of her purse. “Where are you?” she barked without so much as a hello to the person on the other end.
She paused and her expression darkened.
“Oh boy,” Gwen breathed, floating backward a few paces. “She looks like she’s about to blow.”
“That’s not good enough, Drea! I told you I needed help today,” Kimberly snapped. She spun on her high-dollar heels and stalked to the front window. “I’m giving you ten minutes. That’s it!”