by Rose Pressey
The one good thing I can say is, while still atrocious, at least you have a litter box. It could be worse; you could have to do your business on the front lawn for the whole world to see. Poor Rover down the street has no privacy. I suppose that’s payback, though, for the time he chased us up a tree.
Until next time, dear, remember always watch out for the rocking chairs. You do not want your tail caught under one of those.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to my family and friends. They embrace my quirkiness. Love you all! Also thank you to my editor, Michaela Hamilton, and my agent, Jill Marsal.
Don’t miss the next irresistible
HAUNTED VINTAGE mystery by Rose Pressey
FASHIONS FADE, HAUNTED IS ETERNAL
Coming soon from Kensington Publishing Corp!
Keep reading to enjoy an excerpt . . .
Chapter 1
Gnarled and twisted branches draped down over the cemetery’s gates, as if they wanted to reach out and grab every person who walked through. The location for the photo shoot gave me the creeps. I wasn’t sure why the photographer, Tyler Fields, had insisted on taking the photos in the spooky Sugar Creek Cemetery.
He’d called me just a week ago and said, “Cookie Chanel, I need you to style the models. We don’t have time to waste, so I expect you to be ready on short notice.”
Normally, I would have told him there was no way I could work with such little warning. This was a big opportunity for me, though, so I’d agreed. After all, owning my own vintage clothing store It’s Vintage Y’all in Sugar Creek, Georgia, had made me somewhat of a vintage clothing expert. So that was how I’d found myself standing in the middle of the cemetery on a beautiful fall day.
Tyler had posed the models beside the black iron fence. Headstones and mausoleums filled the background of his photos. He stomped over to the beautiful women and showed them exactly how he wanted them to stand. The longer he waited for the models to get the poses just right, the redder his face became.
Tyler was much shorter than the models, standing on his tiptoes to reach their hair. He had sandy-brown hair that parted to the side and fell over his eyes. He didn’t seem bothered by this obstruction of his view. Perhaps that was why the models’ poses seemed skewed. The white short-sleeved polo shirt and olive green cargo pants he wore hung loosely on his thin frame.
I suppose since this was for the Halloween issue of Fashion and Style Magazine, a spooky graveyard was the perfect setting. Though that didn’t make it any less scary. Seeing models photographed wearing the vintage outfits that I had picked out was a big highlight of my life. I’d never thought I’d be asked to style the models for the October issue.
Some people might find it ironic that a cemetery gave me the cold chills, considering I had a ghost attached to me and she was currently critiquing the photographer’s skills.
“That pose is all wrong . . . but he didn’t ask me,” Charlotte said with a click of her tongue.
Charlotte Meadows was a ghost and one of my best friends. Not to mention fashionable and a former socialite. Today she wore a silk abstract-printed belted dress by Emilio Pucci. The colors were coral, turquoise, and black, which flattered her brunette hair. The dress was short-sleeved and reached just above her knees. It was a good thing she was a ghost wearing her black Christian Louboutin heels, because there was no way she would have been able to walk through the grass in those things as a living being.
Charlotte had been attached to some of her vintage clothing that I’d purchased at her estate sale. She’d been by my side ever since. Lately, it seemed as if I’d had a revolving paranormal door of ghosts in my life. Nevertheless, I was hoping my current location didn’t attract a new spirit.
Tombstones and mausoleums surrounded us with etched prayers on plaques and statues of angels guarding over the dearly departed. Spanish moss hung from the tree branches like curtains. The smell of damp earth drifted across the gentle breeze. At least it was the middle of the day and not dark out. There were several models, assistants, and the photographer around, so my ghost friend wasn’t my only companion. I’d styled the models in sweaters, wool skirts, and walking shorts with knee socks for a perfect fall look. My favorite outfit was the head-to-toe Ralph Lauren. The plaid wool high-waist walking shorts, blue-and-green-striped sweater, and knee-high socks were all of pieces from the 1980s, but looked modern and current. Some styles were timeless.
I kept the 1980s style going by wearing a dark blue Calvin Klein shirtdress. The gold buttons down the front and the string belt with gold tassels meant accessories weren’t needed with this outfit. My blue sandals were by Guess and had a canvas vamp with corkscrew sole. Charlotte said I could be one of the models, but with my height at just five-foot-two, I knew she was just being nice. Compliments from Charlotte didn’t come often so I’d take it.
We’d taken a short break, but the photographer had told the models not to get too comfortable. He had a tendency to be a bit harsh, although I’d heard he was good at his job. From the looks of the photos I’d seen in the magazine, I’d say that was accurate.
“If he barked orders at me I’d be out of here.” Charlotte gestured over her shoulder.
“Unfortunately, I think the women will put up with it just to keep their jobs,” I said.
I’d only been around Tyler for a short time now, and I already wasn’t fond of him. Thank goodness he wasn’t yelling orders at me. Charlotte stared in the direction where Tyler stood. He was doing something to his camera lens. If I knew Charlotte, and I thought I knew her well, then she was plotting something against Tyler. She enjoyed playing pranks on people when she felt they were misbehaving. She liked to do things like knocking stuff out of their hands, touching them, or turning off lights. The usual ghostly shenanigans.
“Charlotte, don’t get any ideas,” I warned with a point of my finger.
She held her hands up. “What? I wasn’t planning anything . . . I certainly wasn’t scheming to knock the camera out of his hands. Oh, maybe I should push over that tripod.”
“He’s already frustrated enough. Don’t push him.”
Charlotte mumbled something that I couldn’t understand. That was probably for the best. Movement to my right caught my attention. A man had just walked out from behind one of the tall headstones. What had he been doing back there? Where had he come from? There was only one entrance to the graveyard and that was at the front. Based on the tall headstones around him, I guessed his height at six feet. He had wide shoulders and a muscular physique. His blond hair was cut so short that he almost appeared bald. He wore black jeans, a black leather jacket, and black boots.
“Who is that?” Charlotte asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I said. “He just came out from behind that tall headstone.”
“There’s something suspicious about that,” Charlotte said. “We need to keep an eye on him.”
I would definitely do that. The man was headed toward the group of models who were talking while taking a break.
“Do you think he has bad intentions?” I asked. “I don’t like the way he is walking toward them.”
“This could be dangerous,” Charlotte said.
“Maybe you should alert someone,” the woman beside me said.
“Yes, maybe I should.” My eyes widened when I realized a stranger was standing beside us.
How had she slipped up on us? Who was she? I hated to be rude, but I wanted to know who she was.
“Who are you?” Charlotte asked with a scowl on her face.
Charlotte, on the other hand, didn’t hate to be rude.
“Pardon me, my name is Minnie Lynn.” Dimples appeared on her round cheeks when she smiled.
“That’s nice, Minnie, but that still doesn’t tell us who you are.” Charlotte eyed Minnie up and down.
I scanned Minnie’s appearance at that point too. Minnie didn’t have to answer completely for me to know that she was a ghost. Well, I suppose I didn’t know for sur
e, but the fact that we were standing in a graveyard and Minnie was dressed head-to-toe in vintage clothing gave me a good clue. Minnie wore a long cream-colored dress from what looked like the 1920s. A cute cloche-style hat rested on top of her head. Brown hair peeked out from underneath.
Before she got a chance to answer, yelling caught our attention. The man who had appeared from behind the headstone was now arguing with Tyler. I wasn’t quite sure what they were arguing about.
“Maybe we should move closer so that we can hear better,” Charlotte said.
“What if they start fighting? We should probably stay clear of that,” I said.
One of the models managed to get the man away from Tyler. The model and the man walked out of the cemetery.
The photographer walked back over to the area where he’d been taking photos before the break. “All right, everyone. Let’s get back to work.”
His words were so harsh and he barked the orders. I had nothing else to do other than collect the clothing that I’d allowed them to borrow once the shoot was over. Now I was anxious to get out of there. I watched as the assistant raced over and adjusted the clothing on the models. Tyler glanced back at me and frowned. I attempted a smile, but he turned his attention back to the models. Perhaps he didn’t want me here. Tyler started snapping photos and calling out orders to the models. The model who had walked the man out from the cemetery came rushing back over. Tyler glared at her.
“I’m ready,” she said, taking her place next to the other women.
Tyler didn’t speak to her directly. He just started snapping photos again.
“I wonder what that is all about?” Minnie Lynn said, capturing my attention once again.
Charlotte whipped her focus on Minnie. She walked over to Minnie, standing right in front of her. “Now I didn’t see you enter the cemetery, so who are you? Are you with the magazine?”
Minnie looked at me, as if to say please get this woman to leave me alone. I was sorry, but I couldn’t help her. Once Charlotte got on something she wouldn’t let it go.
“Well, we are curious who you are. It’s not often that we meet strangers in the middle of the cemetery,” I said.
“Often? Try never.” Charlotte eyed Minnie up and down.
Minnie looked down at her cream-colored pumps. There were no stains on her shoes. No signs that she’d been walking through the soft earth of the cemetery; of course there wouldn’t be any if she truly was a ghost.
“I don’t know why I’m here.” Her voice was soft and low.
Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that.”
My gaze traveled from Minnie’s feet to the top of her head. I took in every detail of her vintage clothing. After all, that was my job. When my eyes fell on the long strand of pearls around her neck I knew she was here because of me. I’d recently picked up pearls at an estate sale identical to the ones she was wearing now.
“I suspect I know what’s going on with Minnie.”
Her big brown eyes widened. “You do?”
“Do you know that you’re a ghost?” I asked.
She stared at me. “Yes, I know.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? I’m a ghost too.” Charlotte gestured toward herself.
Now it was Minnie’s turn to eye Charlotte up and down. “I can tell.”
Charlotte scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t be defensive. I saw absolutely no one other than Cookie look at you. That means they can’t even see you.”
Charlotte’s expression eased. “Oh, I guess that’s a good reason.”
“Wait. How did you know my name?” I asked.
“I’ve been hanging around since you bought my necklace. I just didn’t show myself until now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You have?”
“Why show up now?” Charlotte placed her hands on her hips.
Movement caught our attention, stopping the conversation. The models were walking away from the shoot and headed toward the cemetery’s gates.
“What’s happening, Krissy?” I asked, hoping that was her name.
Yes, now I remembered her full name—Krissy Dustin. She’d told me earlier when I’d given her the outfit. She was the model who had walked the muscular guy out.
“Tyler said he needed a break from us. I guess we weren’t doing what he wanted.” She pushed her blond hair away from her face.
“Where did he go?” I asked.
She pointed. “I guess he’s taking a walk.”
When I looked out across the cemetery, I spotted Tyler walking in the distance. He disappeared around one of the tall oak trees. Krissy joined the other models outside the cemetery.
“He’ll get over it,” Charlotte said with a wave of her hand. “Now back to the conversation with Minnie.”
Once again, the conversation was interrupted when a gunshot rang out.
Charlotte gasped and clutched her chest. “Heavens to Betsy. What was that?”
Photo by Bill Pressey
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ROSE PRESSEY is a USA Today best-selling author. She enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. Her Haunted Vintage mystery series includes If You’ve Got It, Haunt It; All Dressed Up and No Place to Haunt; Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore; Haunted Is Always in Fashion; and If the Haunting Fits, Wear It. When she’s not writing about ghosts and other supernatural creatures, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties. Rose lives near Louisville, Kentucky, with her husband and son and three sassy Chihuahuas. Visit her on Facebook, at www.rosepressey.com, or at www.itsvintageyall.blogspot.com.
