by Lotta Smith
“Hi, Mandy. You sound so professional. I’m glad we decided to hire you as the head of Paranormal Cases Division.”
“Oh… hi, Dan,” I said, straightening up. I had known him for over a year, but whenever I talked to him at USCAB headquarters, I had this little tenseness that could be perhaps linked with talking to the CEO. “Thank you for the compliment. Do you have a new case?”
I found myself hoping for a bigger case, like the ones Rick and I used to work at the FBI—murders, heist, embezzlement, and so on. So far, the extent of my services at USCAB was limited to helping the company’s larger clients figure out if their departed loved ones were trying to contact them by that funny noise coming from their walls, or if they needed to call maintenance and fix the crack in the wall.
“Actually, I was going to ask you and your husband out for dinner tonight.” He chuckled. “Seven o’clock, what do you say?”
“I’m more than happy to join you.” I smiled. Dan was a truly charming father-in-law whose charisma was almost infectious. Also, he had access to the most desirable restaurants in the city, so dining with him meant an eclectic experience. He was a one-time divorcé and one-time widower. After losing Clara, Rick’s beloved stepmom who was practically worshipped as a saint by the two Rowling men, he never remarried but always had five girlfriends, starting from Miss Monday to Miss Friday. There were times when Rick was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan, but now that he was married to me, I was sure Dan replaced his son’s position in terms of eligibility.
“Good. So, did you get used to working with us?” he asked abruptly.
“Yes, I did. It’s been a pleasure working as a part of USCAB,” I said, then added, “I’ll ask Rick for his schedule as soon as he comes back from the meeting with the head of operations.”
“No problem. I’ve booked a table at The Modern, which is just a stone’s throw from your home, so Rick has no excuse to skip it.”
“Fabulous.” I could always use a French cuisine fix with good food and beauty served simultaneously. The restaurant was located in MoMA, and art was their specialty. “I’ll bring him in. I promise.”
“Excellent. Let’s talk later,” he said and hung up.
When I put the phone on the cradle, I realized that he didn’t technically answer if the dinner was about a case.
* * *
At approximately seven fifteen, we were in the main dining room at The Modern, overlooking lit-up Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Sculpture Garden.
When desserts were served, Dan asked us, “So, what’s your plan for Thanksgiving?” Sitting by his side was Jamie Alabaster, one of his longtime girlfriends. She was a drop-dead gorgeous blonde, an ex-detective who also happened to be a kickboxing champion. She’d left the NYPD when she took over the high-end sports bar located close to Yankee Stadium, but she still worked as an informant for Dan.
“We’ll be heading for Aspen,” Rick answered immediately. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten about his milk chocolate caramel mousse. “So if you’re thinking about handing me some kind of assignment, you’ll want to look for someone else. Sorry about that.”
He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“Oh really? Aspen? Should I look for on-the-snow fashion for this year?” Jackie commented, popping up from out of nowhere to stand by my side.
I was tempted to point out that fashion was easy for her, as she was able to come up with whatever getup she wanted as soon as she imagined it. When I met her, she was stuck in the same costume of a neon green top, neon pink skirt, and a necklace that literally screamed “FESTIVE!” But when we were able to find her killer and she had some kind of closure, she developed the new skill to change her attire.
I looked at Rick. “I hadn’t heard about the plan.”
“That’s because I haven’t told you,” he said nonchalantly, taking my hand in his. “It was meant to be a surprise, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t get to go skiing the last year, and I’ve been missing the white slopes badly. You’ll fall in love with the destination. The snowy mountain views, the spa… oh, and the hotel has hired a new chef who is practically decorated with awards.”
“Hey, Rick, are you sure planning a ski trip is really a good idea?” Jackie asked. “The last time you booked a similar trip, you got hurt before you even had a chance to set foot on the snow, and you couldn’t make it to the destination.”
“Jackie says that planning a ski trip doesn’t sound like a good plan, and I agree with her for the most part,” I said, tilting my head. For a moment, I found myself forgetting about my black forest cake. Since Jackie was invisible to most people, I didn’t mention her presence when I was with people unfamiliar with my guardian ghost. But Dan and Jamie knew about Jackie, so I mentioned her opinion.
The spa and the possibility of good food sounded slightly enticing, but I wasn’t a skiing aficionado. The last time I went, when I was a high school student, I got stranded in the kiddy lane and a massive search and rescue involving the police and the park rangers had to be employed. Since then, my motto was to stay far away from snow.
And I was slightly shocked that he’d booked the trip without asking me beforehand. As for Thanksgiving, I thought I’d be staying in town—with Rick, of course. Maybe have a cozy evening with family. Spending more time than you’d like to with your family while eating too much was what Thanksgiving was about, right?
“Mandy and Jackie are right. Rick, you’d better be kidding,” Dan chimed in. “And if you’ve actually booked your travel, it better be refundable. The last time you booked for a ski trip, you cracked your fibula and had to wear that hideous boot, remember?”
“That’s exactly what Jackie pointed out,” I added.
Rick grimaced, cursing under his breath. “Actually, I was kidding. I haven’t even booked air or hotel. Okay, I longed for some snowy slopes, but then I recalled that particular memory of spending the whole summer on crutches.” He shrugged.
“Oh, that time when you were planning to visit Switzerland for a skiing getaway? Perhaps the crutches had some perks themselves, you know.” Jamie chuckled.
“Oh, right,” Dan chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “Mandy moved in to help you get around, and she not only stayed but agreed to marry you. That’s a hell of a perk.”
I felt slightly hot in the face as they mentioned the beginning of our relationship. “So we’re not heading for skiing? That’s good to know.” I let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s a smart decision, kiddo.” Dan grinned.
Rick snorted. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not keen on spending my first ever Thanksgiving as a married couple working on a case.” He squeezed my hand and turned back to his father. “You heard that, right?”
“No worries. I’m not asking you to work a case on Thanksgiving.” Dan chuckled. “Hey, Mandy, we visited your folks’ home last year. Why don’t you all come to my place this time? It’s a rather humble abode, but I’ll have my favorite caterers over and, of course, pastry chefs. Emma and Minty are absolutely going to love them.”
“Wow! I’ll let my parents, Nana, and Alicia know. Unless Alicia plans on visiting Tony’s parents in Scottsdale, they should be able to come as well. Thank you so much for the invitation!” My mood perked up. The Rowlings’ family residence was a huge detached mansion located in the area designated for the crème de la crème, and the caterers and pastry chefs Dan hired never failed to amaze me.
“You’re all welcome. Mi casa es su casa.” Dan grinned widely.
“Except?” Rick raised an eyebrow. “You’re not just inviting us to a Thanksgiving dinner, are you?”
“Ouch, that really hurts! Can you believe my own son doesn’t believe me? Clara would be so upset if she was around.” Dan clutched his chest in mock shock.
“Did someone call me?” Clara Rowling, Dan’s late wife and Rick’s stepmother, popped up from out of nowhere. “Hi, Mandy, Rick, Dan, and his date.” She waved.
“Clara!”
My eyes widened. “How have you been?”
“Long time no see!” Jackie flew toward her with open arms and they air-kissed each other.
“Is Mom here?”
“Is Clara here?” Rick and Dan asked simultaneously.
“Yes, she’s here.” I indicated to the ghost with the palm of my hand, prompting everyone to wave in that direction.
“So, Alice isn’t with you guys today,” Clara observed.
“She’s back in LA, shooting more films and spreading her expertise of producing movies,” Dan explained after I shared her comment. “I love her in my own way, but spending every moment with her is a bit too much for me.”
“Ditto,” Rick agreed.
The father-son duo never disagreed about Rick’s biological mother, Alice. And to be honest, she was quite a handful. She wasn’t a genuinely bad person, but I liked her better when we had some distance between us.
“Clara, this is Jamie.” Dan touched his girlfriend’s arm.
Jamie did a small wave at the empty space, smiling and saying, “Hello, Clara. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Clara beamed. Then she turned to Dan and gave him a thumbs-up. “I like her. She’s a good girl.”
As I relayed her words, Jamie’s and Dan’s faces lit up.
Glancing at his dad, Rick whispered into my ear. “Good job, Mandy. Hopefully he’ll forget about the favor thing.”
But of course, Dan’s memory was better than his son wished it to be.
“Okay, let’s get back to business.” Dan snapped his fingers and turned back to Rick, prompting him to roll his eyes. “There’s this small favor I’d like to ask you for before Thanksgiving. It’s just a little errand.”
“Oh, Mandy, you have no idea how much I wish to see them work together!” Clara exclaimed.
“Uh-huh.” Rick didn’t sound so thrilled about the plan, but when I relayed Clara’s words, he straightened up.
“Come on, it’s an easy errand. All I’m asking you to do is visit Mrs. Rosenberg,” Dan said nonchalantly.
“If it’s such an easy task, she’d probably be more delighted if you visited her. Besides, you live within walking distance of her.” Rick crossed his arms over his chest.
“Except I can’t cater to her needs myself.” Dan shook his head. “She needs someone with the expertise that people like Mandy and Brian have. And don’t even think about shoving it onto Brian. He’ll be vacationing in Nevis with Fiona, and I don’t want to interrupt their blossoming romance.”
Brian Powers, Rick’s lifetime friend from childhood, was a fully ordained, real-life exorcist. Unlike many phony self-proclaimed psychics hosting TV shows, he’s real, and one of very few people I knew who could see and talk to Jackie. Despite his expertise in exorcism and his true ability to communicate with dead people, he had been in need of a big break to have success in showbiz. Last year, the opportunity finally knocked his door, and he grabbed it by the neck. Now he’s hosting not just one but five TV shows, and on top of it all, he started dating Fiona, my BFF from college.
Rick groaned as his dad mentioned Brian’s unavailability, but I was interested in Dan’s plan. “Mrs. Rosenberg? Dan, are we talking about Mrs. Karen Rosenberg?” I asked.
“Exactly. You’ve already met her, right?” Dan winked. “Such a charming lady.”
“Oh yes. I like her so much,” I said and turned to Rick, pulling his arm. “You know, I told you about the incident when a couple of barracudas started tearing into me in The Mark’s powder room and how she rescued me.”
“Oh, that time when you seriously thought about assaulting the nasty women with shredded toilet paper?” A corner of Rick’s lips quirked up into a lopsided grin. “Personally, I wouldn’t have minded seeing you kick their asses.”
“You’re bad, Rick.” Jamie chuckled. “Oh, don’t forget that the chef at the Rosenberg mansion bakes magical pies. I’ve incorporated some of their recipes at my venue. Everyone loves the Pie a la Rosa.”
“Okay.” Rick uncrossed his arms. “Let’s have a little excursion before Thanksgiving.”
CHAPTER 2
Three days before Thanksgiving, I was checking myself for the umpteenth time in front of the mirror in the dressing room.
“Come on, you’ve just settled with this dress thirty seconds ago.” Rick tsked. He looked sharp and sophisticated in his black suit and tie, paired with a pair of gleaming Oxford shoes, also in black. Honestly, he looked sexy.
“I know,” I groaned. “This dress seemed perfect at that time, but now I’m not so sure about it. Hey, stop rolling your eyes.”
Not that I was such a slob who started picking out the attire for the visit at the Rosenberg mansion at the last minute. I started early, and should have settled with this wine-red dress, but when I saw my reflection in the mirror, it didn’t look right anymore.
“I’m not rolling my eyes,” he lied. Cupping my face in his large hands, he said, “Mandy, don’t worry. You look totally fabulous. Besides, it’s not a social call. It’s more like business on the verge of holiday seasons.”
“But I don’t want to embarr—” I tried to explain that I wanted to look my best, but he cut me off by planting his lips on mine.
“I was still talking,” I gasped when his lips finally released mine. “And you’ve just ruined my lipstick!”
“No, your lipstick is fine. Yum,” he moaned. “Not to mention it matches the color of your dress.”
“Ah… sometimes I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if I could slip into your body and savor a little bit of his intimacy.” Jackie popped up from out of nowhere and swooned by my side. “Mandy, can I slip inside you for just a moment, please?”
“No, you can’t slip inside me!” I snapped at Jackie, then turned to my husband. “I was talking to Jackie, for the record.”
“Look, Mandy.” Rick’s face turned serious as he looked me in the eyes. “Regardless of what the gossipy bimbos at the charity events say, embarrassment is the last emotion I’d ever feel about you. You’re smart, gorgeous, and you can link me to the other world. On top of all that, you make me feel at ease and secure whenever I’m around you. What else could I want in my wife? Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. Looking back at his mesmerizing green eyes, I felt my cheeks growing hot.
“I’m 100 percent sure.” He winked. “Besides, about a third of the bimbos on Park Avenue periodically get busted for shoplifting. Not from lack of money but from mental instability. Normally, their hubbies have them covered by having the wives’ familiar store clerks on their payrolls so they can send the bill directly to the husbands—disguising the heist as sales. But sometimes, the regular clerk at Prada has to take a vacation and the newbies filling their shifts have no idea and call security. Then they call the police and have the kleptomaniac wives arrested, often spread-eagled on the grimy pavement.”
“Oh my God. That’s embarrassing!” Jackie and I said in unison.
“Exactly. That’s humiliating. Except said bimbos happen to have extremely short memory spans thanks to using excessive Valium. Oh, did I mention you don’t embarrass me at all?” Rick chuckled. “So, are we ready to go?”
“I guess,” I started, but then I recalled a very important and urgent thing to do before leaving our home. “No, Rick, we’re not done yet.”
“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows.
I scurried to my purse sitting on the bedside table and took out my phone, opening a recorder app. “Can you please say that again? The part about how I’m smart, gorgeous, and sophisticated? And how proud you are of me? I’m gonna record it so I can listen to it over and over.”
“That’s a good idea,” Jackie commented. “Except he didn’t use the exact same wording as you.”
Rick laughed, throwing his head back. Then he reached for my shoulders. “No, I’m not letting you record those words. You’ll be happier when they’re delivered in person, don’t you think so?”
&n
bsp; “Hmm… maybe.” Feeling the heat as he pulled me close to him, I started to smile.
* * *
Rick’s Ferrari went into the neighborhood described as the crème de la crème of the crème de la crème in the Upper East Side. Unlike other parts of the district crowded with relatively low-rise condos, high-end boutiques, and businesses that only dealt with the 1 percent, this particular area was free of apartment and/or condo complexes. Instead, there were consular offices and embassies peppered with occasional mansions that were practically larger than life.
The Rosenberg mansion was one of the most upscale estates, high fences and gates that had the look of a castle’s separating it from the outside world. The only thing missing was the moat.
When Rick opened his Ferrari window and pressed the intercom button at the front gate, a youngish female voice answered. “Mr. and Mrs. Rowling. Please proceed inside along the pathway.”
Then the gate opened and Rick drove inside the perimeter.
“Wow!” My eyes widened. “I know it sounds lame, but a part of me is expecting to see some kind of witch or wizard.”
“I know!” Jackie agreed, popping up from out of nowhere. “I can almost picture witches and wizards here. And don’t forget about the entrapped princess.”
