"Of course I do. I can't say no."
She points a finger at me. "You choose to not say no. They don't need you."
I understand it's hard to imagine a life where you're helping people who are no longer alive, things you can't see, but part of me is surprised she, the woman who likes to cure the world through food, is suggesting I ignore them and not help.
"This is my life."
She places her rag on the back counter beside a sleeve of Styrofoam cups. "It doesn't have to be."
"But I want it to."
And there it is.
I've spent the past few months getting involved because I needed to or promised I would. Now I realize that I simply want to. It gives me a purpose. It makes me feel good about myself. And it's helpful.
"How does Julian feel about this?" Ma places one hand on the counter and the other on her hip.
I nearly scoff. Throwing Julian into this conversation feels very much like what she did with Aunt Stella. "It doesn't matter how he feels about it, but he's fine."
She quirks one brow as if she doesn't believe me. I'm not sure I believe me. "Really?"
"If he isn't, he'll get used to it or move on."
I expect her to become dramatic at the notion of Julian and I no longer being together, but she remains calm and stares off into the distance.
"He loves you."
"I know. I love him too."
I hear the 'but' on the end of that sentence. Does she hear it too? I'm starting to wonder how much love has to do with it, and I'm not referring to a Tina Turner song.
"Now that they're both dead, I guess I don't need to worry about them anymore," Ma says.
It takes my brain a few seconds to realize she's referring to Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude.
"No, you don't. What about Aunt Angela though? Do I need to worry she'll go back to Connecticut and blab to Uncle Franco and their kids?"
If Claudia learns that I lived with her for two years and never mentioned Aunt Stella or any other ghost I saw, I'll never hear the end of it. Cousins and ex-roommates aside, I'd rather we keep our communications to family weddings, births, and deaths now. No offense. She was a decent roommate, and she gets a gold star on the cousin front, but we're two different people, and I certainly don't need any more drama in my life. At least not the hysterical family kind.
"I don't know what her intentions are, but I'll persuade her to keep quiet. There's no sense in disrupting everyone's life. She'll be fine. Eventually."
Gosh, I hope so.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When I get off work, I go upstairs for a shower and change of clothes, but I unlock my door and find Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude making out on my couch.
They're sitting side by side but facing one another. His hands are in her hair. Hers are on his back, holding him against her. There's a lot of weird intersecting and loud sucking sounds.
"Oh my God, get a room," I shout, avert my gaze, and walk into my bedroom. I slam the door behind me and am momentarily grateful they aren't on my bed.
I have my shirt off and am unzipping my pants when Aunt Stella pops in. I shriek. Not because she hasn't seen me in my undies before but because I'm afraid he'll be right behind her.
"Relax. It's just me." She sits on the edge of my bed and dangles her legs back and forth. She's a couple of inches shorter than me. "We had no other place to go."
She sounds like a teenager after being caught with her boyfriend by her parents walking in on them. It's cute. And completely weird.
I don't bother to explain that they have the entire world at their disposal. No airline fees, no passports or customs checks. They could be on a gondola ride or in Paris right now, but instead they're making out on my ratty, old sofa. Why does my dead aunt's life suddenly sound better than mine?
"I'm taking a shower."
I head to the bathroom and assume they'll find someplace else to…conjugate while I'm lathering up. When I get out, the apartment is silent. Yes. I change into red, black, and white plaid leggings (I'm feeling festive), a long, thin black sweater, and socks and open my bedroom door. I didn't eat at the deli before leaving. I'm not sure I have anything scrumptious or even edible in the fridge. I haven't shopped in…
I stop short.
Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude are still on the couch. Still in that gross and weird but slightly mesmerizing lip lock. What the heck? I thought they got the message and left.
"Hello. Eww."
They break apart and go about making sure their clothing is appropriate. As if it could move. Wait, can it? Since they're both ghosts can they… I don't want to think about it. How did I get myself into this? Oh, right. I like to help ghosts. Maybe I should stop that.
"You're going to have to find someplace else to do that. There are plenty of other spots. The Grand Canyon. Niagara Falls. Any hotel. Pick one of their empty rooms."
Six eyebrows rise. The three of us seem to have an ah-ha moment at the same time.
"Room," I say. "You two can help me with Van Ford. Get into his motel room, snoop around, see what you find. Get me my boots back." The last sentence I whisper, knowing that's not logical.
But I'm excited about the rest, and I turn that eagerness toward them. "What do you say?"
Freezer Dude stands up. "I'm not helping you, especially when you can't seem to help me."
I see Aunt Stella hasn't squashed his selfishness.
"Besides, I want to spend whatever time I have with Stella, not playing Mission: Impossible."
She gazes up at him with love in her eyes. "I want to spend all of my time with you too. But don't be mean to my niece."
I lay a hand over my heart. Aww. How sweet of her. I try to not show my feelings on my face though. She likely won't appreciate my making a big deal of her having emotions. I can't help but wonder if finding Freezer Dude has made her softer.
He rolls his eyes at me and then grins at her. "Fine. We can help. There are beds at motels."
Oh gross!
* * *
A white compact car with rental plates is parked in front of Van's door. He's home. I'm not sure if that's good, bad, or doesn't matter. Even though I'm not going inside, I park toward the front of the lot, facing the street, with my back to Van's room. Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude float over to his room, and I adjust the rearview and side mirrors for optimum visibility. Just in case.
I tap a rhythm on my steering wheel. I'd turn on the radio, but I don't want to tax the battery. My old Kia is just that. Old. She's not going to last much longer. I'm grateful every day when it starts.
I pick at the cuticle on my right pinky. And pick. Then nibble.
Time seems to be standing still. Every second that goes by is excruciating. What are they doing in there? How much can I actually expect them to get done? They're ghosts. I know they can sometimes manipulate the physical world, but it takes a lot of energy and…let's face it. They're probably in there kissing.
I sigh.
Fidget with the button my jacket.
Pick at the cuticle again.
Ten whole minutes later, I can't take it anymore. There's no way they're still looking around, if they ever started. I could drive off and go home and try again another day, but I'm here now. I'm sick of waiting.
I grab my purse, sling the strap onto my shoulder, and get out of the car. The snow stopped an hour ago. A new coating clings to most surfaces. The air is cold, and I pull my cape collar closer around my neck. I'm going to need to break out an actual coat soon. I walk across the parking lot with my head high and back straight. It may look like I have all the confidence in the world, but my insides are a jumbled mess.
There's nothing I can give him for payment, even if I wanted to, which I don't. But to make temptation easier, I wore a pair of ratty, high-top, black sneakers.
I stop in front of his door and raise my arm. I knock twice and tell myself to not turn and run. I'm not sure what I'm nervous about. The worst that can happen is he slams the door in my fa
ce.
The door whips open, and Van stands there in jeans and a sweatshirt. His eyes are wide, he's shivering, and he looks to have seen a…ghost?
I step to the side and look past him. Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude are on his bed, rolling around and making out. Oh gosh, I think I see tongue. And at the foot of the bed, on the floor, are my boots. Still where he threw them.
My heart feels heavy. At least he hasn't pawned them yet.
"Yeah, what?" Van says with a heavy sigh. He's visibly shivering, and condensation billows from his mouth.
"Are you okay?" I tug at my bottom lip with my teeth to keep from smiling.
"It's freezing in here. All of a sudden."
"Maybe you should tell the manager." And if he goes over right now, I'll have a minute inside.
"The heat's on. It's blowing hot." He shudders again. "What do you want now?"
"There's no reason to be rude. I wanted to know why you didn't mention the blackmail."
He takes a half a step back. It's obvious he's trying to look confused, but I saw truth register in his eyes. It was fleeting but there. "What are you talking about?"
"Raina confided in someone. Don't deny it."
He punches his thigh. "That bitch."
Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude finally stop their smooch fest and glance over.
"Oh, right," Aunt Stella says and pulls herself from her boyfriend's grasp. She tosses me a Cheshire grin. "We got a room."
I try hard not to smirk. It's nice to know she's become obedient. Who knew she could be anything other than ornery?
"I don't know what Raina was talking about," Van says more to himself than me. "She was hot and cold and then hot again. One minute we were a couple, and the next she wanted nothing to do with me. And she acted like she hadn't made those threats."
"What threats?"
He's not listening to me though. "Bipolar. I'm telling you," he says.
If this is true, maybe she was disabled. Not that I feel he's trustworthy in general, but he genuinely seems convinced of what he's saying.
"I don't have time for this." He steps back to shut the door.
"Wait. Why are you still in town?"
"For the funeral and will, of course." He slams the door shut.
Of course. He's hoping she left something to him. Is that even likely? From the way he talks about her, how can he possibly think he's in her will? He also doesn't know that the funeral is for close family only and happening right now.
I turn and start to go back to my car when I hear a door open. I stop and glance over my shoulder. It's Van's. But he's standing by the bed, not the door.
Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude are at the door. They're leaving. Why'd they open the door and not walk through it?
Aunt Stella is giggling, and when she steps over the threshold, she stops. "Oops, almost forgot."
She floats over to the bed mere inches from Van.
He shudders violently. His eyes are wide, and terror is etched onto his face. He has no idea how his door suddenly opened on its own.
Before he gets a chance to step forward and shut it, Aunt Stella bends over, manages to grab my boots, and chucks them out the door.
They fly through the air and land by my feet.
I look to them then to her.
She giggles, shrugs, and joins Freezer Dude.
Van frowns hard and staggers some. He opens his mouth, but I don't want to hear what he has to say.
I grab my babies and run to my car.
* * *
I'm beyond giddy on the way home. Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude disappeared, so I don't get to gush at how amazing she was or profusely thank her. It'll wait until the next time I see her. I spend the drive home giggling my butt off.
I can't be anymore thrilled. At a red light, I set my phone into my console and dial Izzie. I feel like dancing and don't want to go out alone.
"Hello?" Izzie answers, sounding out of breath.
"Hey, you okay? What's up?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm doing laundry and picking up after two people who are old enough to do it themselves." She shouts the last half of her sentence, obviously wanting her husband and daughter to hear. I'm glad I don't have my phone to my ear.
"I guess this means you don't want to come out dancing with me?"
Her laughter fills my car. She laughs for so long I start to wonder if she started crying halfway through. "That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time."
"Why?" The light turns green, and I drive through the intersection.
"You mean aside from the staggering amount of laundry this family makes? There's also the snow. You know I hate driving in it."
This is true, but I'd pick her up and drop her off. I'd mention this if it was her only reason for declining. I have a feeling I'm about to get a list.
"Then there's the fact that I'm starting to need to frequently pee. It's not too bad yet, but public bathrooms skeeve me out, which brings me to reason number three. Public bathrooms smell gross. All of the fake air freshener mixed with disinfectant makes me want to gag, and you know about that reflex."
Yeah, Izzie's the worst when it comes to her gag reflex.
I'm only a few block away from my apartment, and while Izzie breaks down her remaining reason, which is that she's constantly tired, I think of who else I can invite. There's Julian, but I'm not sure if we're ready for a night of dancing and romance because I know if we allow our bodies to get close enough to dance there will be romance. Enzo is a big no. He doesn't dance. I'd end up swaying to the music by myself anyway. Who does that leave?
Michael. Does he dance? I contemplate this for a moment, but I don't want to complicate Julian and me more than we are, so my new old friend is out. Unfortunately it looks like I'm not going out.
"Okay, I get why my question was funny. But after you pop out my new niece or nephew, you owe me a night on the town." I turn the corner to the deli.
"Maybe not right after I deliver, but sometime after you got yourself a date."
"Happy laundering."
She groans, and we say good-bye.
I pull into the back parking lot and realize I'm, once again, not alone. This time, however, Aunt Angela is waiting for me.
My stomach knots, and I start to feel flush. I consider backing up and driving off. I don't want to answer her questions and see the look of fear or disgust on her face. I'm not sure she feels this way, but my fear is telling me so. If I leave now, though, I'll agonize over what she wants to say and won't get much sleep. It's better to get it over with.
I park and step out of my car.
She does the same and walks around. "Hi. I hope you don't mind my dropping by unannounced."
I wrap my arms around myself. The night air is getting colder by the minute. "No, that's fine. Want to come up?"
"Sure, I'd love to." She smiles softly, and my fears of her carrying a pitchfork and wanting to burn me at the stake disappear. Although a fire might feel good right now.
I lead the way.
When we hit the second door, I unlock it and hear Aunt Angela sigh behind me.
"I haven't been in here in forever. I forgot how adorable it is."
She's thinking back to when my folks first bought the deli and lived up here, not long after they got married.
"Would you like some coffee?" I ask while shrugging off my sneakers and coat.
"That would be great."
"Make yourself at home."
She walks around the living room, staring at my photos and book collection and then out the front windows, while I make the coffee. We don't say anything as it brews. Maybe she feels awkward. I know I do.
Finally, the last drop spits into the carafe, and I reach for two mugs. I set them, as well as spoons, sugar, and half-and-half on the breakfast bar. I'd offer her cake if I had any. Cake is yummy, which is why I no longer have any.
She joins me at the bar and sits on a stool. Taking the one beside her feels awkward. I step back and lean against t
he counter after making my cup.
Aunt Angela glances over her shoulder several times, and it dawns on me that she's looking for her sister.
"Aunt Stella isn't here now."
Aunt Angela nods and stares into her mug. "I'm sorry. This is weird for me."
"I understand. The few people who know had trouble at first too." This seems like the perfect time to ask her intentions. "Are you planning to tell anyone in Connecticut?"
She looks up into my eyes. "Claudia doesn't know?"
I shake my head.
"How did you two live together and she didn't figure it out?"
I press the hot edge of my mug to my mouth. I want to point out that her daughter is only observant when it comes to her hair or nails, but I refrain.
"It wasn't hard. We didn't have an apartment full of dead people. I generally only see them at hospitals, cemeteries, and some here and there."
She nods, digesting the information. "I won't tell anyone. You have my promise."
I let out a relieved breath and set my mug on the counter. "Thank you."
She sips her coffee. "They wouldn't believe me anyway."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next day, after my shift, I shower and dress in the black dress I wore to the shower. Looking at my pitiful collection of evening attire, I realize I'll need to acquire more if I keep this job. Izzie will love to go shopping with me, and Ma will be thrilled if I own a variety of outfits for Sunday dinner.
Vargas Events is located in the center of town, not that far from the deli. The brick storefront sits between a flower shop and drug store. It's not a big space. There's room for a couple of desks and some chairs for clients, I presume. The walls are painted in a soft, light pink, the flooring is hardwood, and the furniture is a mixture of white, black, and cherry wood.
Valentina looks up when I walk in. She's dressed in a fitted, red dress and black pumps. Her smile is friendly. "I like a woman who's punctual."
I chuckle. "In my family, it's a sin not to be."
She holds out her hand to a chair across from her desk. "Have a seat, and I'll go over how we do things here."
Cupcakes, Butterflies & Dead Guys (Gianna Mancini Mysteries Book 3) Page 12
