Kindred Spirits: A Romantic Comedy About Love, Life, and the Afterlife . . .

by Whitney Dineen

  Pip gestured toward a cement bench and said, “Would you care to sit down?”

  Richard did so without saying a word. He had no idea what was going on and he figured he’d just wait until Philippa explained it to him.

  She started by announcing, “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to say. I know you’re going to think I’m insane and there’s very little I can do about that.”

  Richard merely arched an eyebrow in response. Then Philippa addressed someone else and said, “I’m so mad at you I could spit nails. I could throttle you and throw your bloody bones into the Thames, but I need you to put a song into this gentleman’s head if there’s even a tiny chance he’s going to believe what I say next.”

  Richard had no idea what was going on. He sat quietly as though watching some kind of performance art, which was something he always found intriguing, but rarely understood. Out of nowhere he started to hear the song, “Another One Bites the Dust,” run through his head.

  When Bertram told Pip what the song was, steam nearly poured out of her ears and she yelled, “‘Another One Bites the Dust’? Are you kidding me? Is that supposed to be funny? Because I assure you it’s not!”

  Richard interrupted and asked, “How did you know what song I was thinking of?”

  “Because,” she answered, “my contact put it there, so when I told you what your message was, you might believe it and not immediately assume I’m a lunatic.”

  Even though she was acting a bit outrageously, curiosity got the best of him and Richard asked, “Who exactly is your contact?”

  Pip exhaled loudly, “He’s the dead man I’d happily murder on the spot if he were still alive.” Noticing the alarmed look on the gorgeous groomsman’s face, Pip continued, “I have the pleasure of being able to talk to dead people and have unwittingly signed up to help them communicate messages to their loved ones.” She added, “I’ve never hated my job as much as I do at this moment.”

  With an eyebrow raised in question, Richard asked, “And you have one of these messages for me?”

  “I do,” she replied.

  “Would you care to tell me what it is?”

  As soon as Pip said, “It’s from your father,” Richard’s blood ran cold, as his father never had much interest in him in life. Richard found it hard to believe he was taking any interest after his death.

  He sat rigidly and did not respond. It was curious how this woman knew a song that just popped into his head, but that could have been some kind of a trick, like hypnosis or subliminal suggestion. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but it didn’t mean she really had a message from his father.

  Finally, Richard sarcastically drawled, “How astonishing. Would you care to tell me what it is?”

  Pip averted her gaze and intoned, “He says he knows you’re ready to settle down and find true love. He says you’re twice the man he ever was and that he’s proud of you.” Richard’s jaw was rigid with tension as she continued, “He wants you to know that he’s found the perfect woman for you.”

  Fire radiated out of Richard’s eyes. He wanted to scream and rail that his father never cared anything about him before and he sure as hell wasn’t going to believe any of this nonsense now. But curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, “And who might this paragon be?”

  Richard could barely hear her answer, but what he did hear was confirmed by the shameful way she hung her head. She said, “Me. He says the perfect woman is me.”

  Richard replied, “Of all the lowdown, deceitful, devious ways I’ve had women try to meet me, this is the worst! How dare you bring my father into your charade? You’ve clearly done your homework well and read the article in Manhattan Life magazine, but to create this farce by resurrecting my father? You,”—he pointed for extra emphasis—“are the most underhanded, vile, hateful woman I’ve ever met!”

  Pip felt horrible about sharing the message at all. If it were up to her she would have never done it. She knew it made her look questionable and crazy, but she’d never had someone speak so horribly to her before. He’d just called her hateful. Before she could stop herself, she let loose on him. “Hateful? You think I’m hateful? You think I’ve handed most of my life over to this ridiculous calling because I’m hateful?”

  Philippa stood up and got right in his face and demanded, “How dare you? What in the world was I thinking that I actually wanted to meet you? You’re no more than a spoiled, conceited, obnoxious bully and I wouldn’t have anything to do with you if you got down on your knees and begged me!”

  Philippa stood with her chest heaving and her hair pulling free of its confines. Her face was flush with fury and she looked like a warrior princess just returning from battle. Richard didn’t know what possessed him, but in that moment he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her right to him, face to face, nose to nose. Before he could come to his senses, he ground his mouth against hers in a punishing kiss meant to scare her. Instead she parted her lips and let him in. It was his undoing. They probably only kissed for a minute but it could have been an hour.

  Philippa felt like she was melting, like her flesh was actually falling into a pool at her feet. She’d never felt such passion. She’d never felt such anger. When she pulled away to look into Richard’s eyes, she saw confusion, but more than that, she saw anger.

  She responded by yelling, “Don’t ever touch me again. Stay away from me!” Then she turned and ran off. She didn’t go back to the reception and finish her meal. She didn’t meet anyone else and dance the night away. She didn’t even stay for the cake cutting. Instead, she cried herself to sleep and warned Bertram there would be dire consequences if he ever showed his face again.

  The Aftermath

  Chapter 27

  Pip felt like the walking dead. She’d cried so hard the night before, her eyes were still swollen when she woke up. She wound up pouring a bucket of ice cubes into the plastic laundry bag supplied by the hotel and laid it across her face for several minutes in an attempt to bring down the swelling. When her parents picked her up for the post-wedding brunch at the country club, she looked relatively normal.

  Her mother asked, “Darling, what happened to you last night? Your father and I lost track of you after the salad course.”

  The earl winked at her, “I told your mother you probably went off with some handsome fellow to enjoy a little romance.”

  Pip nearly swallowed her tongue. “No,” she replied. “Sorry to disappoint. I developed a rather splitting headache and went back to the hotel early.”

  “That’s terrible, dear! And it was such a lovely reception,” her mother offered.

  Pip asked, “So Mum, have you decided to forgive America for their poor luck in producing a man like Jeffrey?”

  “I have. I’ve quite enjoyed all the people here.”

  Her husband laughed, “Yes, it seems you have. But you do seem to be giving Mimi a bit of a hard time. Why is that exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” Victoria pouted. “Probably because she’s taking my son away from me.”

  Pip asked, “How do you figure that?”

  “Elliot’s planning on living here in America so that Mimi doesn’t have to leave her family. Well, what about us? That’s what I’d like to know. I mean, we’re Elliot’s family and he’s fine just leaving us behind—leaving me behind,” she clarified.

  “Oh Mum,” Pip declared, “He’s not leaving us. We’ll visit all the time and so will he and Mimi.” She offered her mother a hug and added, “I promise. It’ll all be okay.”

  Victoria sniffed, “I hope so. I love my children and hate to think of them being so far away that I don’t get to see my grandchildren regularly. It’s not right.”

  Pip replied, “Well, you’ll always have me. Unfortunately, at the rate I’m going you won’t get any grandchildren from me, but I promise to take care of you when you’re old and infirm. Does that help cheer you up?”

  Archibald responded, “Don’t be a goose, darling. Of course you’ll marry some da
y and you’ll have loads of gorgeous babes for your mother and me to spoil rotten!”

  Pip knew that was the very last thing that would happen. After the night before, she figured the hereafter was never going to allow her to find a man of her own. The scene with Richard Bingham had been so horrible and sordid, she wasn’t sure she could bear to go through anything like it again. The problem was that never in her thirty-plus years had she ever felt drawn to another human being as she’d been to him. And that kiss was enough to ruin her for the mediocre groping of lesser mortals. The whole thing was thoroughly depressing.

  Mimi Spotted Philippa picking at her kippers across the dining room and headed straight for her. She sat down and declared, “You didn’t come back to the reception after talking to Richard. What happened?”

  Pip rolled her eyes, “I can’t tell you much, but I can tell you this, he didn’t believe me.”

  “I beg to differ,” Mimi declared. “When he came back to the tent he looked furious, so I’m willing to bet he believes enough to be angry about it.”

  She snorted, “Oh, he’s mad all right.”

  “I’m dying to know! Come on, Pip. You’ve got to give me a hint, just a tiny little something.”

  “Mimi Fielding,” Elliot’s sister replied, “I will defecate in my pants the very second I allude to anything about Richard’s message. Is that something you want to witness?”

  Mimi scrunched up her nose, “Not really, no.” At that moment Richard walked into the room and Mimi caught his eye. He started to cross toward her until he saw she was sitting with Philippa. He immediately turned at a ninety degree angle to avoid them both.

  Mimi excused herself by saying, “I’ll be back. I’m going to find out what’s wrong with Richard.”

  When she approached her friend, he stiffened, and Mimi asked, “Richard, are you mad at me?”

  “Mimi,” he replied gruffly, “when I asked you to find your replacement, I told you I wanted the woman to be quirky and unique, an individual. I do not remember asking you to find me a certifiable basket case.”

  Mimi gasped, “Richard, what do mean? I sat you at a table with several very unique and lovely women. I gave you exactly what you asked for.”

  He demanded, “What about Elliot’s sister? What in God’s name was that all about?”

  She replied, “I have no idea. I only know she wanted to talk to you. She didn’t tell me why.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you know exactly what she said to me,” Richard accused.

  “Richard, I haven’t a clue! Why don’t you tell me what she said?”

  Richard scooped eggs on his plate and declared, “I’m done talking about it. But just so you know, you’re relieved of your matchmaking duties.”

  “Richard!” Mimi admonished. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

  He didn’t answer her. He merely sat down, ate his breakfast, and left. Mimi didn’t hear from him until later in the week when he called to apologize for his abrupt departure and tell her about a new woman he was dating. Her name was Chantal.

  Philippa left a short while later with her parents. They were heading back to London where she would help run the bachelor auction. But as soon as it was over, she had every intention of crawling under a rock and staying there for the rest of her life. If Bertram knew what was good for him, he’d stay clear of her.

  New York

  Chapter 28

  Going back to New York was a surreal experience. Richard had only been away for five days, yet in some ways it felt like he’d been gone for five years. Although, when he tried to remember everything that had taken place, it didn’t seem like enough to cover five minutes. Every moment already seemed vague and eerily dreamlike, like maybe it hadn’t really happened at all, every moment except for one.

  Richard had been plagued with thoughts of Elliot’s sister, Philippa, ever since the night of the wedding. She was intoxicatingly beautiful, extremely elegant, and very strange. What in the world had possessed her to try to convince him that his deceased father thought they’d be the perfect couple? All she had to do was introduce herself and he might have come to that very conclusion on his own. She didn’t have to go and ruin things by making up such an outlandish tale.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t possibly be interested in her now. Richard had already added her to the list of potential gold diggers and insane women trying to reel him in, like so many others before who’d read the article about him in Manhattan Life magazine. Bringing his father into it had made it an unforgivable offense.

  The problem was that kiss. Richard was a successful, forty-one-year-old single man living in New York City. He’d kissed—and kissed a lot—but nothing could compare to the lip-lock he’d shared with Philippa. It transcended every experience he’d ever had with a woman. It was exactly what he’d hoped to find, only from the wrong person.

  After he’d yelled at her, Philippa stood there looking so irate and full of righteous indignation; it seemed the most natural reaction in the world for him to kiss her senseless. He wanted to do so much more than that, too. He wanted to drag her up to one of Renée’s bedrooms and rip her clothes off. He wanted get to know her in the most carnal sense and claim her for his own. While Richard had experienced his fair share of passionate moments, nothing could ever touch those few minutes with Philippa.

  He didn’t know if Mimi was really trying to set him up with Elliot’s sister or not. If she had been, wouldn’t she have sat them at the same table? Or maybe it was just part of an ingenious plan, to put her at a different table and introduce her separately. Faking the errand to get aspirin afforded them several minutes alone, which would have definitely been enough time to gain his interest had she not tried using that ridiculous story about his father.

  Richard decided to throw himself back into his life in the Big Apple and make a date with Chantal as soon as possible. He needed to forget Philippa and get on with the task at hand, which was to find his soulmate. But as much as he tried to envision who that woman would be, the only face he could conjure in his mind’s eye was Philippa’s, and that simply wouldn’t do.

  As soon as Richard got back to his apartment, he called Rachel to set up his second date with the lovely Chantal. He ordered flowers to be delivered to Mimi the day she returned from her honeymoon, with a note of apology, and he called Eliza. He needed to get a woman’s perspective of what had happened at the wedding and he knew of no other woman he trusted as much as her.

  Richard sat at a banquette booth for two at Sarabeth’s Kitchen on Madison Avenue. He picked at a pumpkin muffin and sipped his coffee. He kept looking around for Eliza. She was already twenty minutes late and she was always early, earlier than him, even. He hoped she hadn’t forgotten their plans to meet.

  When she finally strolled by the picture windows in front of the restaurant, she was carrying several bags and laughing at something Spencer had just said to her. When the couple walked in and joined him, Richard stood up to greet them. But instead of sounding pleased to see both of his friends, he admonished, “Spencer, this is a private brunch. You’re not invited.”

  His old friend simply laughed and patted Richard on the back. “It’s nice to see you too, buddy. I’m going to forgive you for being such a rude bastard because you are the reason this beautiful lady has agreed to be my wife.”

  “Your wife?” Richard gulped. “What do you mean your wife? I thought you weren’t allowed to ask for her hand until you’d been together for six months.”

  Spencer shrugged his shoulders, “I thought so, too. But she has one brunch with you before you leave town,”—he snapped his fingers—“and Boom! She’s a changed person.”

  Eliza clarified, “Not a changed person, just a more flexible person, one who’s willing to hop off the hamster wheel once in a while.”

  “Please tell me you haven’t already gotten married,” Richard begged.

  Eliza giggled, “I said I’m learning how to get off the wheel occasionally, not that
I’ve gotten rid of the wheel altogether. I let him ask for my hand, but he still has to wait the full six months before we start planning a wedding.”

  That seemed like a reasonable compromise to Richard, although he was still a bit shocked. He was also a tad uncomfortable being credited for this new change in events. He didn’t want Eliza to blame him if things didn’t work out with Spence.

  Once Spencer left, Richard asked, “I’m guessing you’ve lessened your six month timeline for sleeping together, as well?”

  Eliza nodded her head, “We made it four weeks and six days. I swear another four months might have killed me.”

  Richard laughed, “I imagine it might have. Although I’m pretty sure it was a good lesson in control for Spencer to have to wait that long.”

  “We both compromised,” his friend replied. “That’s what a good relationship is all about, isn’t it?”

  Richard exhaled loudly, “How the hell would I know? I’m so far away from being in any relationship, yet alone a good one.” Then he told Eliza about the women Mimi had tried to set him up with, everyone except Philippa. For some reason he decided to hold that part of the story back. He wasn’t sure why.

  “They sound lovely. When do you go back to start courting them?”

  Richard hadn’t even thought of asking any of the women out on a date. He was so overwrought with anger toward Elliot’s sister he hadn’t even considered the other women again in a romantic sense. He’d finished his meal with them, but he hadn’t stayed for dancing after the cake was cut. He was getting mad all over again. He’d let his exchange with Philippa ruin any potential for getting to know the ladies at his table.