Better Dead

by Pamela Kopfler

  “Whatever.” He’d always been vain. “Just hand me my towel.”

  “No can do.”

  “Then turn around so I can get it.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I don’t want you to look at me.”

  “Hey, I’m dead. All I can do is look.” He nodded and said, “I’m looking.”

  “Fine.” The water sloshed as she stood. She didn’t cover herself as she stomped to her towel. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen her naked. It was just the principle of it all.

  Burl let out a howling whistle.

  As Holly glared at him, she snatched the towel off the hook and wrapped it around herself. “Okay, Burl. You’ve had your fun. We need to talk.”

  “Not that again.” He frowned. “I hate it when you want to have those sappy talks about our relationship.”

  Holly rolled her eyes. “There is no relationship, and you can’t stay here. What’s the unfinished business that will get you out of here?”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, that.” Holly folded her arms over her towel and tapped a wet foot.

  “Then you’re in.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Burl always took more than he gave. So far, he was the same Burl, dead or alive.

  “So you don’t care about my eternal soul?”

  “Face it. You haven’t led a saintly life. If you want my help getting something you don’t deserve, you’re going to do something for me first.”

  “Come on, Blondie. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Trust you?” Holly hoisted the towel a little higher on her chest as she studied Burl. “Which vow haven’t you broken?”

  Burl slapped his hand over his heart and gave her the wounded puppy face he’d perfected during their marriage.

  “Don’t give me that sappy puppy face. I’m immune.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Haunt,” she said. “I want you to scare the Deltas tomorrow and my B & B guests when they arrive. Not enough to give them a heart attack, but enough to make them believe Holly Grove is haunted. That way I can draw more business and keep Holly Grove open.”

  Burl folded his arms over his chest. “And how do you want me to do this?”

  “I don’t know.” She lifted her shoulders. “Moan. Rattle some chains. The usual ghost stuff.”

  “Blondie, I don’t know if you noticed, but no one can see or hear me except you and that rat you call a dog.” Burl snatched at her towel.

  Holly gasped as his hand faded into the towel and then her chest, where she’d tucked the towel in place. She felt nothing except a chill.

  Burl drew his hand back and dropped his gaze to the floor. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t even rip that towel off you. So how do you think I can help you?”

  Holly’s heart sank. Her perfect hand was a bust. He couldn’t scare the Deltas. And if she didn’t help him, she’d be stuck with a dead husband she couldn’t divorce. He’d be her chaperone for life. Her ancestors had sacrificed and died to keep Holly Grove for future generations, and it all ended with her, the unlucky Holly. She turned away from Burl as tears welled in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a whisper.

  “Sorry?” She wheeled around to face him. “That’s it? You weren’t satisfied with making me miserable when you were living. You had to come back for more. I hate you, Burl. I hate you!”

  Holly ran from the bathroom, then slammed the door behind her. She threw herself on her antique bed and let the sobs rock through her body. He’d won again.

  She had no choice but to do whatever Burl asked to get him out of her life.

  CHAPTER 5

  The thud of the door knocker clattered from downstairs, followed by Rhett’s sharp barks. Holly swiped at her tears and looked at the brass face of the Seth Thomas mantel clock. Eight o’clock. She’d forgotten all about Jake. He’d arranged to pick up his room key this evening so he wouldn’t have to wake her after the Gazette printed at midnight.

  Her tears must have vaporized Burl. During their marriage, if she dropped a tear, he dropped out of sight. Same Burl, dead or alive.

  Holly slid off the edge of the high bed and then scrambled to the oak armoire that held her clothing. She pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants, then dashed for the door.

  “Coming,” she yelled from the stairs.

  Rhett bounced as he yapped at the door. He met her at the foot of the stairs, and then he rushed back to the door and barked some more.

  “I don’t need a doorbell as long as I have you, boy.” Holly stopped at the mirror in the entrance hall. Puffy blue eyes stared back from her reflection. Bless your heart, girl. The thinning silver on the back of the mirror usually made everyone look better. She wiped at her eyes.

  The sharp squawk of hinges in need of TLC grated her ears as she opened the door.

  “Sorry about the squeak.” A sniffle she couldn’t hold back tickled her nose.

  Sexy stubble framed Jake’s face as he frowned and looked at Holly. “Did I come at a bad time?”

  “No. This is just what I look like without the help of professional products.”

  He winced. “That’s not what I meant. It took you a while to get to the door. I can come back later.”

  “No. I just got out of the tub. Sorry.” She opened the door wider, and it squeaked again. “I’ve got to get that fixed.”

  “Consider it done,” he said and scored points he didn’t need. The massive door to the plantation house dwarfed most men. But as Jake strode into the foyer, his broad shoulders and tall frame matched the size of the house.

  “Welcome to Holly Grove.” She leaned toward him to give him a peck on the cheek, but he stiffened and extended his hand.

  “We have an agreement.” His eyes danced with mischief, and his dimple deepened with his grin.

  “Oh, yeah. You’re going to be the perfect gentleman.”

  Jake nodded, then winked. “So don’t tempt me.”

  She pinched the sides of her sweatpants and stretched them. “Yeah, I wore my most tempting outfit.”

  “It’s not the outfit that’s tempting.” The stare of Jake’s rich brown eyes melted her like the first bite of chocolate after a long diet.

  Heat crept across her cheeks. That was a bad sign. Jake had left her heartbroken years ago, and she knew better than to go back for seconds.

  Rhett started barking again.

  “It’s okay, Rhett. Jake’s a guest.”

  Jake patted his knee. “Hey, Rhett.”

  He jumped back and barked louder.

  “Sorry. Rhett doesn’t like men.”

  Jake shrugged. “What happened to man’s best friend?”

  “Not Rhett. He doesn’t trust men.”

  Jake cocked an eye at Holly. “I’ve heard dogs’ personalities are shaped by their masters.”

  “I’ve heard dogs are better able to judge character than people.”

  “Touché,” he said, flashing his killer grin.

  She couldn’t help but smile back. “Have a seat in the parlor.” She motioned toward the open floor-to-ceiling pocket doors. “I’ll get your keys and paperwork.”

  Holly went to the kitchen and whipped up the customary check-in cocktail, a Holly Grove Mint Julep. She poured it in a monogrammed silver mint julep cup and placed the cup on a linen cocktail napkin. As part of their trade, Jake deserved a proper welcome.

  Then she checked the reservation list she kept stashed in a kitchen drawer with the room keys. The Grant suite on the third floor or the Huey Long room in the carriage house should be far enough away to keep her hormones in check. Too bad they were rented for the weekend. The room in the boys’ tower was available, but the renovations weren’t quite complete. She fingered the key. Maybe Jake wouldn’t mind.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. He’d agreed to run an ad in the Gazette every week and write a feature article on Holly Grove. The least she could do was keep him from having to move rooms through
out the weekend to accommodate previous reservations. The Mark Twain suite was next to her room and shared her balcony. Maybe too cozy for her, but they’d made a deal. She plucked the Mark Twain key, registration card, and a pen from the drawer, then scooped up the mint julep.

  When Holly returned to the parlor, she stopped short, paralyzed, as her stare darted from Jake to Burl. They sat side by side on the antique settee like Mutt and Jeff, opposites in every way.

  “Who’s this big bozo?” Burl said, eyeing Jake.

  Beside Jake, Burl appeared paler and less fit. But then again, Burl was a ghost.

  Jake didn’t flinch.

  Holly couldn’t move.

  Jake’s brow creased as he stared at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Wait a minute.” Burl stood and stepped in front of Jake. “I’ve seen this guy.” Burl snapped his fingers near his head, as if that would rattle loose a memory.

  Jake stood and walked right through Burl.

  She gasped.

  “Holly, what’s wrong?” Jake marched to her side.

  She couldn’t get a single syllable out.

  Burl spun around and snapped his fingers one more time. “I’ve seen his picture.”

  Jake stretched his arm around her waist.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Burl held his hands up and poked his thumbs straight across to form a frame with his forefingers. He lined Holly and Jake up in his view. A wry grin spread from ear to ear. “Oh, yeah. He’s older, but I remember. This is the sap you were hung up on when I met you. You turned his picture facedown on the bedside table the first time we—”

  “It’s not what you think,” Holly blurted out. And why did she care what Burl thought? Why did she have a tinge of guilt at having them in the same room? He’s dead, for crying out loud. It had to be just a leftover habit of thinking of him as her husband for ten years.

  Jake frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Uh,” she stammered. “Your room is next to mine, but it’s not what you think.” Whew. She amazed herself at how quickly the lie rolled from her lips. Holly had never been good at lying, but she’d never been in a situation like this, either.

  “How cozy,” Burl said, all sappy.

  Holly looked up at Jake. “I had to put you in the Mark Twain suite, next to mine. The rest of the rooms are rented out for the weekend. This way, you won’t have to move to another room until Monday when someone else has the Mark Twain booked.”

  “I said I’d be a perfect gentleman. Did you think I was going to sneak into your room and seduce you in the middle of the night?” Jake asked with the slightest hint of a smile in his eyes.

  In her dreams.

  Burl’s pale face reddened. “And you’re falling for this, Blondie?”

  “Of course not,” she said, looking at Burl but answering Jake’s question. She squeezed the key to the Twain suite in her palm and crumpled the registration card around it. The icy mint julep chilled her hand as she clutched it for dear life.

  Burl’s translucent image nearly glowed red. “Are you nuts? You’re going to put your old flame in the room next to yours, and you don’t expect him to think anything about it? And what on earth is he doing here, anyway?”

  “Don’t you trust me?” Jake asked.

  Burl rolled his eyes. “I’ve used that line a million times. Come on, Blondie. Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

  “I just didn’t want to send you the wrong message,” she said to Jake. Then she turned and glared at Burl. Would he ruin the rest of her life?

  Standing in the parlor between Jake and Burl, Holly realized she had a serious problem.

  There stood Jake, a fantasy that could walk off a page of GQ right into her bedroom but would never stick around. And there stood Burl, a ghost of his former self and a roadblock in her life that might never go away unless she did something about it.

  She knew three Delta Ridge women who’d divorced. Two had moved to a bigger town after about two years of small-town celibacy. The other was taking in cats. Rhett wouldn’t tolerate cats, and she could never sell Holly Grove and move away. Unless she wanted to do the big nasty with a widower over sixty or her forty-year-old accountant, who still lived with his mother, Jake was probably her only chance in the Delta Ridge market. Men had flings all the time for the fun of it. But that wasn’t her style. She glared at Burl. If she did, she’d be no better than he was. Although she wasn’t married, technically, since he was a ghost.

  Jake pulled her closer. “Are you okay? You were staring at me like you were in a daze.”

  “Tell the bozo to back off, Blondie. You’re a married woman.”

  She gave Burl a cold stare. He had another thought coming if he believed he could control her from beyond the grave.

  “I’m fine,” she said, chancing a look into Jake’s deep brown eyes. “I just remembered something.” She stretched her arm out, offering Jake the mint julep. “This is for you.”

  He waved it off. “Thanks, but I don’t drink.”

  She took a gulp of the minty libation to steady her nerves, then turned her back to Jake and faced Burl. She lipped to Burl, “Meet me in the laundry room. Now.”

  She handed Jake the key, pen, and mangled registration card. “I’m going to get you some fresh towels while you fill out the registration card. Then I’ll show you to your room.”

  Holly needed to set a few ground rules for her not-so-dearly departed. She looked over her shoulder to see if Burl was following her.

  Gone again.

  * * *

  A gust of wind rattled the windows of the old house as Jake finished filling out the registration card. He shifted his weight on the flimsy sofa, and it creaked, making him question its ability to hold him. He stood, then paced as he waited for Holly to return.

  Patience had never been his strong suit. He scanned the room she’d called the parlor for a chair that could hold his weight. Next to the window, he spotted two curvy chairs with fluffy fabric that looked like Snow White had designed them for the seven dwarfs.

  He ambled through the entrance hall, which was as much as he’d seen of Holly Grove back when he’d dated Holly. Her mom had kept Holly on a short leash and him on a shorter one. His skirmishes with the law and having the town drunk for a father had stacked the odds against Jake with most of Delta Ridge and especially with Holly’s mother.

  The squatty double chair shaped like an S caught his attention. He’d sat there and watched Holly float down the stairs like an angel in pink back when he took her to his prom. She and Sam had saved him. They had believed in him when no one else had.

  Jake wanted to believe in Holly, but he had a job to do. He had to keep his head on straight. Personal history had no place in an undercover op, except to gain intel. He had to keep the two separate.

  By boarding at her B & B, he’d have the freedom to roam the plantation and observe Holly and her guests. This was Jake’s one shot to save his career after his royal screwup in New York. Then he’d catch the first flight back to the twenty-first century and life as he liked it. Under the radar.

  The old house creaked and moaned with the autumn wind, but with it, Jake thought he’d heard something. He stood still and listened.

  * * *

  As she opened the laundry-room door, it swept through Burl. Too bad she couldn’t lock him in the room with the sheets.

  “You’ve got to get rid of that guy,” Burl said.

  “His name is Jake, and he’s filling in for Sam while he’s on vacation. And I can’t get rid of him.” She took another fortifying sip of Jake’s mint julep.

  “Why not?”

  “First, I don’t want to. Second, I need some good publicity for Holly Grove since the whole town thinks I’m in rehab, thanks to you.”

  “Me?” He pointed to his chest. “I was stone-cold sober.”

  She didn’t have time to explain. “I made a deal with him. A month of ads and articles for a month’s free rent. You can’t help me,
but he can.”

  “Yeah, I know what kind of help he’s going to give you,” Burl said, curling his fists at his sides and thrusting his hips forward.

  She jammed her hands on her hips. “So what? You’re dead! I’m free to do whatever I want.” Not that she would.

  “Right in front of my eyes?”

  “Why not?” She rattled the ice in the mint julep cup. “You did it behind my back.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You’re the one I need to get rid of. You don’t deserve to go to heaven, but I sure as sin don’t deserve to be stuck with you, either. Just tell me what your unfinished business is, and don’t fade out this time.” She drained the silver cup and slammed it on the counter. Thank you, Jake, for being a teetotaler.

  Burl shrugged and stared at the floor. “I made some bad bets. I took money from our 401(k) thinking I’d win it back, but I lost that, too. I couldn’t face you.”

  “So you screwed a redhead instead.” She pasted a sarcastic smile on her face. “That explains everything.”

  “I’m trying to tell you what happened.”

  “I don’t care what happened. I just want to know what I have to do to get rid of you.”

  “I’m getting to that.”

  “Please do.” She waved her hand through the air and bowed slightly in mocked reverence.

  “After I maxed out at the bank, I borrowed money from a loan shark . . . strong connections. When I couldn’t pay, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, unless I wanted to lose a few digits or worse.”

  “And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” She grabbed a stack of white towels from a closet.

  “You should be thankful I paid him off.”

  “Can you just skip the details?” She unloaded the stack of towels onto the countertop and eyed Burl. “What is this unfinished business?”

  “It’s complicated.” Burl shifted his focus to the toes of his Gucci lace-ups. “All I had to do was meet a barge on the Mississippi riverbank, which is practically in our backyard. Then, a few days later, a contact would stay at the B & B to pick up the goods. With easy access to I-10, running east to west across the country, and a private airstrip on our property, the business boomed.”