“Quick, Scarlet, hide anything pointy and sharp!” Flapjack warned.
“She is looking kind of … stabby,” Gwen added.
“Shush,” I whispered, waving a hand at both of them. It was hard enough for me to keep up my unflappable routine without the pair of them hissing in my ears.
Kimberly ended her phone call with a snarl and slam-dunked her phone back to the depths of her beach-tote-sized purse. She turned back to face me and managed to find her smile, though it didn’t quite reach her hazel eyes. The woman was nearly airbrushed perfection with a pulse. Everything from her skin to her glossy chestnut hair and her perfectly manicured fingernails was tended to and maintained. I had a feeling that the monthly receipts from her boatload of beauty products would add up to more than I made in a quarter.
“As usual, she’s late!” Kimberly fumed, her cheeks burnished with a color that had nothing to do with her bronzer. “Make a note of that: Drea is not allowed to be in charge of anything regarding the flowers. I’ll make sure Sonya knows too—”
As if summoned, Sonya Perez, a striking woman with raven hair and olive skin, strode into the shop flashing a megawatt smile. “Good afternoon, ladies!”
How she maintained such a sunny disposition in Kimberly’s near-toxic radius was beyond me.
“Hello, Sonya.” The smile I offered her was genuine.
“Drea is late, as always,” Kimberly complained. Her insufferable whine was like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.” Sonya set a hand on Kimberly’s forearm. “Now, what are these changes you’re making? I simply can’t wait to see what you come up with, Scarlet. Maurice has been raving about the designs you’ve been doing for the B&B guest rooms!” She peeked past me to my design table and spotted the arrangement I’d been working on before Kimberly barreled in. “Is that one of them? I simply love birds of paradise!”
Kimberly frowned, unhappy to be out of the center of attention.
“You’re sure you can do this?” She eyed me, both of her painfully perfect brows drawn into sharp peaks.
“Ugh, give it a rest already!” Flapjack groused.
“I promise you, Kimberly, it will be beautiful. Okay?”
Before she could argue with me further, her phone rang. She plucked it out of her purse again and scowled. “It’s Drea. Probably more excuses!” She answered the call and then reached for Sonya’s arm. “I’ll see you at the restaurant in one hour.”
Without another word—never mind a thank you—she turned and stalked out.
“I’m really sorry about her,” Sonya told me as soon as our shared little ball of sunshine was out of sight. Her bright smile faded and for the first time since meeting her six weeks beforehand, I realized that she was just as fed up with Kimberly’s theatrics as I was. For some reason, that made me feel a little better.
Misery loves company, after all.
“It’s fine.” I handed over the magazine page labeled with three hot-pink sticky notes. “Here’s what she wants now.” I pointed at the design Kimberly had indicated before flipping to the next page. “We didn’t get around to talking about either of these, so I’m sure they’ll be her choice du jour tomorrow or the next day.”
“Oh, goody,” Gwen quipped.
“All right.” Sonya nodded as she considered the image. “That works. Honestly, I don’t know why she bothers to pay my fees. She doesn’t even consult with me on these kinds of changes, just picks up the phone or fires off an email and I’m usually the last one to know what’s actually going on.”
I raised my brows. “Seriously?”
“Just last week, I chewed out the catering company for sending us the wrong quote for the second time, only to find out that Kimberly had been changing the menu behind my back.” She shook her head. “So humiliating. Honestly, if it weren’t for the absurd commission I’m set to make, I’d have bailed out months ago!”
“No wonder her sister avoids her at all costs,” I said, my voice lowered.
“Oh, Drea is a whole other story,” Sonya replied, adding an exasperated sigh. “Anyway, I know you’re closing soon, so I’ll get out of your hair and let you finish your work. We’ll talk tomorrow, all right?”
“Works for me. Have a good evening.”
Sonya waved as she headed out, and I returned to my studio.
Flapjack and Gwen followed, complaining about Kimberly’s treatment of me for a few more minutes. They kept at it until Flapjack left to go revel in the stink wafting from the catch of the day as it was being cleaned down at the harbor docks.
“Enough about that horrible woman,” Gwen finally declared when Flapjack was gone. “Let’s talk about Lucas!”
Gwen had a semi-unhealthy obsession with my love life. Granted, she had the same fixation with nearly everyone in town; I was simply one of the few corporeals that she could talk to.
I returned to my studio and dove into work without commenting.
“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” Gwen asked.
I slid a meaningful glance at Lizzie as she worked to print off a batch of inventory tags. Gwen huffed. “Fine, but I expect a full report on your romantic reunion first thing in the morning. Before the wrecking ball in a cardigan punches in for her shift.”
Gwen’s silvery silhouette shimmered and then vanished without a sound.
Somehow, Lizzie and I managed to squeeze the three outgoing orders into her clown car and I sent her off to deliver them before returning to my arrangement. For the first time in a long time, the studio was quiet. By the time Lizzie circled back near closing time, I’d rearranged the cooler, cycled out all of the old product, and cleared out the voicemail queue.
“How’s tomorrow looking?” I asked Lizzie as she consulted the schedule on the front computer.
“Busy,” she replied in an almost apologetic tone.
I sighed. “All right. Well the rental company said they would have a van available for me tomorrow morning, so I’ll need you to run the show while I run over there to pick it up.”
Lizzie nodded violently. “Of course!”
The front bell rang and she jumped up to go to the front counter, but I stopped her. “Why don’t you go ahead and clock out since I’ll need you early tomorrow.”
“Okay. Have a good night, Scarlet. Thanks for everything.”
She grabbed her purse and car keys from the office and slipped out the back door with a small wave. I went to the counter, eager to take care of the last customer so I could close up. Despite my cagey response to Gwen, I was looking forward to seeing Lucas again. More than I was willingly to admit. He was flying into SEA-TAC and making the three-hour drive into Beechwood Harbor in a rental car. He’d assured me that he would make it in time for a late dinner.
“Evening, sir,” I said to the tall, lanky man standing at the front counter with an expectant look on his face. “How can I help you?”
“Are you Scarlet Sanderson?”
“That’s right.”
He reached up and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but I need your help.”
“Selecting the right flowers?” I asked, cringing because I already knew from his posture he wasn’t there to pick up a bouquet.
“No, actually, it’s about—well, it’s about a ghost.”
Of course it was.
Chapter 2
The man set a faded newspaper page on the counter. “I found your information from this article.”
If there was ever a night to close up early, this should have been it.
I pushed the paper back to him and shook my head. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t work with ghosts.”
“But the article—”
“Is wrong.”
“My ex-wife is haunting me.”
A prick of curiosity needled at me. No, no. Fight it, Scar. Remember what happened last time.
“Strange things have been happening around
my house ever since she died. I hardly ever go home now. She’s always … there. Then, last week, I was driving to work and all of a sudden, my brake pedal wasn’t working. I damn near crashed into a guardrail!”
I winced.
He reached for my arm. “I need help from someone who knows what to do in a case like this, and according to this article, that’s you!”
I wrinkled my brow. I couldn’t walk away if he was in danger. “All right, fine! I’ll see what I can do.” I tugged my arm away. “But let’s get something straight—I don’t do exorcisms.”
He tilted his head. “What is it you do then?”
“It’s more like … counseling.”
The man barked a laugh. “Oh, you don’t know Ruthie. She’s stubborn as a mule! She’s not going to listen to you … or anyone, for that matter.”
“With all due respect, I’ve been dealing with ghosts for the majority of my life. In my experience, an open conversation is enough to smooth over most unresolved issues.”
He scoffed. “That won’t be enough with her. She’s a real piece of work—I used to tell her that she put the Ruth in ruthless.” He laughed at his own joke then quickly realized I hadn’t so much as cracked a smile. His smile faded and his expression turned stony. “I don’t want a therapy session. I want her gone.”
I folded my arms. “Let’s say you live in Florida and one morning you go out for a swim, only to find a giant gator in your pool. You have two choices: call the people who trap gators and release them somewhere else or hire the people who will come shoot the poor thing. It’s kind of the same thing with ghosts. I prefer to do the former. Catch and release, so to speak.”
“Fine. I don’t really care how you do it, Ms. Sanderson. Just so long as it works!”
I frowned. My clever analogy was completely wasted on the impatient man standing across from me.
With a sigh, I held up a hand. “As long as that’s understood. I charge $500 for house calls.”
I’d never seen someone write a check so fast.
Call me a sell-out, but hey, if I was going to spend my precious downtime chasing after a ghost, I was darn well going to get paid for it. Besides that, there was a good chance that if I added one more ghost to my already overflowing schedule, I’d lose my grip on what little sanity I had left. The fee was more like hazard pay.
“I’m Wilson Barnes. Just do what you have to do.”
“I’ll come out tomorrow after I close my shop. This is the correct address?” I pointed at the information on the check, noting the “Dr.” in front of his name.
“That’s the one.”
“‘I’ll see you tomorrow around six, Dr. Barnes.”
“Thank you.”
He hurried out of the shop, clearly ready to be done with his unpleasant errand. I slipped the check into the front pocket of my apron and locked the front door before heading upstairs to my apartment. I’d have to ask Gwen what she knew about the departed ex-Mrs. Barnes.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he’d made it sound, but I learned long ago that asking ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ was just tempting fate.
By eight o’clock, my pending ghost adventure was the furthest thing from my mind as I paced in front of my front window. Lucas was on his way from the airport and my nerves were pitching toward an all-time high. Nearly three months had passed since the last time we’d seen each other. We met under odd circumstances when I’d found myself at the business end of his Taser. Not exactly the type of meet-cute you’d find on The Bachelor, but it was working for us so far. Lucas worked as head of security for Mints on the Pillows, the reality show that renovated what is now the Lilac Bed & Breakfast, back in early spring. After we got past that whole move-and-I’ll-taze-you thing, we realized we had a lot in common and started an unofficially official relationship. The only downside was that as soon as the renos were done, Lucas was off to the next city on the schedule. Since then, we’d managed to keep in near-daily contact: phone calls, texts, and an occasional video call. He’d offered, more than once, to fly me out to the set for a long weekend, but with everything ramping up at the flower shop—and good help being so hard to find—it hadn’t worked out.
Which, I decided as I stood at the window nearly trembling, was both a blessing and a curse. In some ways, the anticipation of seeing each other was almost euphoric, but on the other hand, a nagging voice had starting casting doubt. What if the way I remembered Lucas was an illusion, some kind of construct I’d built up in my imagination? Or vice versa?
There was a possibility that the entire visit was going to tear apart the tiny threads of connection we had formed over the past months. I didn’t want to watch it all unravel, but at the same time, the possibility that the bonds might tighten and root even deeper scared me more on some levels.
The tangled thoughts and doubts swirled around in my stomach as I waited at the window. After a few minutes, an unfamiliar car park in the lot below and I gasped out loud, excited that the moment was finally here.
Lucas emerged from the driver’s side of the dark sedan and I smiled to myself as he straightened and stretched his long limbs. He was used to driving a burly pickup truck while on the set and the idea that he’d been folded into a tiny sedan for the past three hours, cursing the lack of legroom, made me giggle.
He glanced up and caught sight of me in the window, and our eyes met. My heart did a series of gymnastics and then plummeted to my toes in a free fall at the smile he gave me.
“Is your gentleman caller here, Lady Scarlet?”
There was only one ghost in my life who would use the phrase “gentleman caller” and that was Hayward Kensington III, an old English gentleman who still clung to his sense of propriety more than a hundred years post-death. It was charming in a weird way. I nodded at him as I raised a hand to return Lucas’s greeting. He crossed the lot and I jumped back from the window and scurried across the small apartment to stand post at the front door. Hayward followed and I belatedly noticed the downcast look on his face. “Are you all right, Hayward?”
“He’s moping,” Flapjack interjected, appearing at my other side.
Hayward’s regal face twisted into a nasty scowl as he glared down at the unwelcomed presence. “Butt out, Flapjack!”
My eyebrows shot up. Hayward rarely used such language.
“Gwen’s got herself a boyfriend,” Flapjack said, his eyes almost glowing as he returned Hayward’s stare.
“What?” I whipped around to face Hayward, ignoring the fuzzy specter at my feet.
Hayward removed his top hat and passed it back and forth. “It’s true, Lady Scarlet.”
“Are you sure? She hasn’t said anything to me.”
I glanced back at the front door. Lucas would be knocking on the other side at any moment. He knew about my … ability, but I hadn’t planned to spend our first night back together in some kind of ghost intervention to cheer up my longtime companion.
Flapjack wound around my ankles, tail swishing dangerously close to my skin. A cold breeze followed and sent a shiver up my back. I resisted the urge to kick out at his spirit. It wouldn’t affect him and would only spread the chill through my body, but sometimes it was hard to hold back. “His name is Quinton. He’s new in town.”
“I haven’t even heard about him,” I told Hayward. “And believe me, Gwen tells me everything. Endlessly. If there was an Olympic medal for talking, she’d be a gold medalist ten times over.”
Hayward smiled but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “She’s waiting until tomorrow to tell you.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t want to intrude on your evening with Mr. Greene.”
I sighed. Of course. She knew I was nervous about seeing Lucas again. Gwen was the kind of person who was always thinking about others, which somewhat explained her fascination with the town gossip and everyone’s comings and goings. Part of it was sheer nosiness, but she was also a woman with a huge heart who went out of her way to help
others in times of crisis. In case things went south with Lucas, she wouldn’t want to have a blossoming relationship of her own to rub in my face.
“I shouldn’t have said anything, Lady Scarlet.” Hayward slid his hat back on, concealing his thinning silvery hair. “I only found out about this Quinton fellow day before yesterday. Gwen asked me to keep it a secret from you and I agreed but …” He paused and his silver eyes went glossy.
A knock sounded at the same moment that Hayward vanished from sight.
I looked down at Flapjack, who dragged in an impatient sigh and said, “He saw Gwen and Quinton kissing in the park after she left the shop.”
My heart clenched. Hayward had been admiring Gwen from afar since the moment we stepped foot into Beechwood Harbor. I’d always assumed that Gwen secretly knew about his little crush but played coy so as to not make him uncomfortable. But suddenly I realized she may have been blissfully unaware the entire time.
A second knock dragged me from that sad possibility and I pulled the door open, barely remembering to smile.
Lucas wore his signature half-cocked grin but it faltered when his eyes swept over my face. “Hey?” He squinted. “Scarlet, are you all right? You look like you just saw a—” Lucas stopped short and our eyes locked together. “Well, ghost.”
“Story of my life, pal,” I snorted, and we both dissolved into laughter.
“Come in, come in,” I said, still laughing. Lucas followed me over the threshold and I closed the front door behind him.
So much for a silver-screen reunion.
Lucas scanned the room, his hands in his pockets. “Safe to assume we have a third wheel tonight? Or maybe a fourth, fifth?”
I laughed and then dropped a meaningful look to Flapjack. “No. Actually. It’s just us.”
“Fine, fine,” Flapjack said, twitching his tail as he strode for the door. “But if Hayward goes poltergeist, you’ll know who to blame.”
He slipped through the solid door before I could fire a retort at his fuzzy rear end.
Ghosts Gone Wild: A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries Book 2) Page 2