She’d plunked the magazines back on the counter and returned her attention to me. “It’s all going to be fine.” I picked up one of the glossy sheets from the counter. “Now, should I make a photocopy of this page, or may I keep it for reference?”
Kimberly’s phone rang. She waved a finger, shushing me before ripping it from the outside pocket of her purse. “Where are you?” she barked without so much as a hello to the person on the other end.
She paused and her expression darkened.
“Oh boy,” Gwen breathed, floating backward a few paces. “She looks like she’s about to blow.”
“That’s not good enough, Drea! I told you I needed help today,” Kimberly snapped. She spun on her high-dollar heels and stalked to the front window. “I’m giving you ten minutes. That’s it!”
“Quick, Scarlet, hide anything pointy and sharp!” Flapjack warned.
“She is looking kind of … stabby,” Gwen added.
“Shush,” I whispered, waving a hand at both of them. It was hard enough for me to keep up my unflappable routine without the pair of them hissing in my ears.
Kimberly ended her phone call with a snarl and slam-dunked her phone back to the depths of her beach-tote-sized purse. She turned back to face me and managed to find her smile, though it didn’t quite reach her hazel eyes. The woman was nearly airbrushed perfection with a pulse. Everything from her skin to her glossy chestnut hair and her perfectly manicured fingernails was tended to and maintained. I had a feeling that the monthly receipts from her boatload of beauty products would add up to more than I made in a quarter.
“As usual, she’s late!” Kimberly fumed, her cheeks burnished with a color that had nothing to do with her bronzer. “Make a note of that: Drea is not allowed to be in charge of anything regarding the flowers. I’ll make sure Sonya knows too—”
As if summoned, Sonya Perez, a striking woman with raven hair and olive skin, strode into the shop flashing a megawatt smile. “Good afternoon, ladies!”
How she maintained such a sunny disposition in Kimberly’s near-toxic radius was beyond me.
“Hello, Sonya.” The smile I offered her was genuine.
“Drea is late, as always,” Kimberly complained. Her insufferable whine was like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.” Sonya set a hand on Kimberly’s forearm. “Now, what are these changes you’re making? I simply can’t wait to see what you come up with, Scarlet. Maurice has been raving about the designs you’ve been doing for the B&B guest rooms!” She peeked past me to my design table and spotted the arrangement I’d been working on before Kimberly barreled in. “Is that one of them? I simply love birds of paradise!”
Kimberly frowned, unhappy to be out of the center of attention.
“You’re sure you can do this?” She eyed me, both of her painfully perfect brows drawn into sharp peaks.
“Ugh, give it a rest already!” Flapjack groused.
“I promise you, Kimberly, it will be beautiful. Okay?”
Before she could argue with me further, her phone rang. She plucked it out of her purse again and scowled. “It’s Drea. Probably more excuses!” She answered the call and then reached for Sonya’s arm. “I’ll see you at the restaurant in one hour.”
Without another word—never mind a thank you—she turned and stalked out.
“I’m really sorry about her,” Sonya told me as soon as our shared little ball of sunshine was out of sight. Her bright smile faded and for the first time since meeting her six weeks beforehand, I realized that she was just as fed up with Kimberly’s theatrics as I was. For some reason, that made me feel a little better.
Misery loves company, after all.
“It’s fine.” I handed over the magazine page labeled with three hot-pink sticky notes. “Here’s what she wants now.” I pointed at the design Kimberly had indicated before flipping to the next page. “We didn’t get around to talking about either of these, so I’m sure they’ll be her choice du jour tomorrow or the next day.”
“Oh, goody,” Gwen quipped.
“All right.” Sonya nodded as she considered the image. “That works. Honestly, I don’t know why she bothers to pay my fees. She doesn’t even consult with me on these kinds of changes, just picks up the phone or fires off an email and I’m usually the last one to know what’s actually going on.”
I raised my brows. “Seriously?”
“Just last week, I chewed out the catering company for sending us the wrong quote for the second time, only to find out that Kimberly had been changing the menu behind my back.” She shook her head. “So humiliating. Honestly, if it weren’t for the absurd commission I’m set to make, I’d have bailed out months ago!”
“No wonder her sister avoids her at all costs,” I said, my voice lowered.
“Oh, Drea is a whole other story,” Sonya replied, adding an exasperated sigh. “Anyway, I know you’re closing soon, so I’ll get out of your hair and let you finish your work. We’ll talk tomorrow, all right?”
“Works for me. Have a good evening.”
Sonya waved as she headed out, and I returned to my studio.
Flapjack and Gwen followed, complaining about Kimberly’s treatment of me for a few more minutes. They kept at it until Flapjack left to go revel in the stink wafting from the catch of the day as it was being cleaned down at the harbor docks.
“Enough about that horrible woman,” Gwen finally declared when Flapjack was gone. “Let’s talk about Lucas!”
Gwen had a semi-unhealthy obsession with my love life. Granted, she had the same fixation with nearly everyone in town; I was simply one of the few corporeals that she could talk to.
I returned to my studio and dove into work without commenting.
“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” Gwen asked.
I slid a meaningful glance at Lizzie as she worked to print off a batch of inventory tags. Gwen huffed. “Fine, but I expect a full report on your romantic reunion first thing in the morning. Before the wrecking ball in a cardigan punches in for her shift.”
Gwen’s silvery silhouette shimmered and then vanished without a sound.
Somehow, Lizzie and I managed to squeeze the three outgoing orders into her clown car and I sent her off to deliver them before returning to my arrangement. For the first time in a long time, the studio was quiet. By the time Lizzie circled back near closing time, I’d rearranged the cooler, cycled out all of the old product, and cleared out the voicemail queue.
“How’s tomorrow looking?” I asked Lizzie as she consulted the schedule on the front computer.
“Busy,” she replied in an almost apologetic tone.
I sighed. “All right. Well the rental company said they would have a van available for me tomorrow morning, so I’ll need you to run the show while I run over there to pick it up.”
Lizzie nodded violently. “Of course!”
The front bell rang and she jumped up to go to the front counter, but I stopped her. “Why don’t you go ahead and clock out since I’ll need you early tomorrow.”
“Okay. Have a good night, Scarlet. Thanks for everything.”
She grabbed her purse and car keys from the office and slipped out the back door with a small wave. I went to the counter, eager to take care of the last customer so I could close up. Despite my cagey response to Gwen, I was looking forward to seeing Lucas again. More than I was willingly to admit. He was flying into SEA-TAC and making the three-hour drive into Beechwood Harbor in a rental car. He’d assured me that he would make it in time for a late dinner.
“Evening, sir,” I said to the tall, lanky man standing at the front counter with an expectant look on his face. “How can I help you?”
“Are you Scarlet Sanderson?”
“That’s right.”
He reached up and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but I need your help.”
“Selecting the righ
t flowers?” I asked, cringing because I already knew from his posture he wasn’t there to pick up a bouquet.
“No, actually, it’s about—well, it’s about a ghost.”
Of course it was.
**Continued in Ghosts Gone Wild, book two in the Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries series by Danielle Garrett. Get your copy on Amazon today!**
Acknowledgments
First of all, I would like to thank my parents, who fed my love of reading from an early age. My sister, for supporting my desire to tell stories since I started “over complicating” our Barbie doll’s lives.
For my handsome husband, you know how much I love you. I appreciate your daily support (and for listening to all of my writerly rants and keeping my caffeinated at all times).
Thank you to Theresa, my fabulous editor for all of your tips and kind words. And Keri, for the killer covers.
Writing can be a solitary passion, but with all of you beside me, it’s never lonely.
Thank you.
About Danielle Garrett
From a young age, Danielle Garrett was obsessed with fantastic places and the stories set within them. As a lifelong bookworm, she’s gone on hundreds of adventures through the eyes of wizards, princesses, elves, and some rather wonderful everyday people as well.
Danielle now lives in Oregon and while she travels as often as possible, she wouldn’t want to call anywhere else home. She shares her life with her husband and their house full of animals, and when not writing, spends her time being a house servant for three extremely spoiled cats and one outnumbered puppy.
For more about Danielle and her work, please visit her at:
www.daniellegarrettbooks.com
www.facebook.com/daniellegarrettbooks
The Ghost Hunter Next Door: A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries Book 1) Page 20
