by Jacquie Gee
Maybe Dad was right. Maybe this is her dress. I pull the sheets closed around her.
“What do you think?” She appears seconds later, skipping out into the middle of the floor looking wide-eyed but anxious.
She looks ridiculous. But who am I to say?
“I mean, it kind of fits the whole Trash the Dress mood, don’t you think?” She holds out either side of the skirt.
“I suppose,” I say. I wouldn’t even care if she dragged this one over the riverbank. This is slowly becoming a win/win.
“I mean, I wouldn’t wanna ruin a really good dress or anything.”
Okay, now I just wanna punch her in the mouth.
“But this one. This is trashable, right?’
I’m gonna just have to let that comment go…
“After all,” she admires herself in my purposely shattered mirror—the pieces of broken shard I haphazardly stuck to the wall, “this one better captures the spirit of the movement, don’t you think, after getting trashed in the window, and all?”
And that comment.
"Not to mention, how much I loved the idea of wearing work boots with a wedding dress." She giggles. "So Heartland-covish feeling, you know?" She pops her big toe through the hole in the toe.
For a long moment, I can’t speak.
I did create this as something original to be worn as something cool. “As a matter of fact, yes, I do think, that,” I finally say. And it’s not so hard to get out.
I lunge toward the corner, retrieving a showpiece. A half-ripped, trashy veil I’d hoped to bring to New York with me. “Here. This is the perfect finish.”
I jump up onto a chair and fix it to her head.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous!” She gropes the torn edges as they adorn her bare shoulders.
“And don’t forget the gloves.” I slip them over her fingers and up her arms as she holds them out for me.
“They’re so Katherine Hempburnish-looking.” She strokes them.
“Audrey Hepburn, you mean?” I correct her.
“Yeah, whatever. You don’t have a tiara, by any chance?” She glowers at me through blue, blue eyes.
"I could always make you one out of sticks," I say, "and Swarovski crystals," I add when she frowns.
“Oh, I like that idea.” Her face alights. “Can you get it ready for next week?”
“Sure. No, problem,” I land my hands on my hips. “But it’ll cost you extra.”
Every inch of her body balks at the idea.
“What? It’s handmade custom work. You’re lucky I have time to do it.”
“All right, all right,” she says, with a bit of a struggle.
“So, is this the one then? We’re settled?” I hold my breath as she scans the studio.
“Yeah, you know what? I think so!”
"Great!" I dust off my hands and release my breath.
“With the tiara, of course—”
“Of course.”
I help her strip her hands of the gloves.
“How much will it be?” she asks. “For all of it?”
I stop, draw back and think. How much was that bill? What was the amount I spied through the cellophane window?
Collette bats her long eyelashes and sucks on her bottom lip. She's not exuding her usual steamroller confidence. Maybe I should up the price a bit.
“Twenty-five hundred,” I say, sharp, quickly, sensing a need to go in for the kill.
“Oh, really?” Her caricature smile sinks.
“And I won’t charge you for the tiara, or veil,” I add, quickly.
At that price, I’ll be pulling in over five hundred dollars’ profit. I’ll be able to pay Dad’s bill and some. Besides, Dad and I need the money a lot more than Collette Van Bommel does.
"With the tiara and veil," she repeats my offer. I'm breathless, as Collette stands silent, contemplating the deal and sucking on her lip, for what seems like forever, my heart choking off my throat, my pulse thrumming in my ears. I mean, initially I was only going to ask fifteen hundred for whatever dress she chose and dropped to a thousand if she didn't agree, but then I saw the way she reacted to the dress, and I just got crazy.
I hope I haven’t blown it.
Dad’s electric bill niggles in my brain.
She blows out a breath and sucks one in, and I almost drop the price.
"Done!" she shouts and sticks out her hand for me to shake like she's just won the lottery. I grab hold of her slender hand and shake it firmly.
“Half now, and half when I pick it up the dress, how’s that?” She turns, digging in her purse, fingering a stack of hundreds that make my eyes pop. She draws out ten, lathering my palm with them. “Is that fair?”
“Sh, sure,” I stammer, staring down at them, astonished.
“Awesome!” She snaps her clutch shut and tosses it aside, then shoots past me on giddy tippy-toes, back into the change room. “I cannot wait to wear this!” she squeals, poking out her head between the sheets as she pulls them closed in front of her with an over-zealous flip.
I can’t believe it. I blink down at the money. My heart pounds like a bass drum.
I’ve just been paid for one of my wedding dress creations. For the first. Time. Ever.
Chapter 12
Jayden
“You’re sure about this?” Anna checks for, like, the four hundredth time, as I sign my name to the final papers.
“Positive.” I nod, dotting the ‘I’ in my last name of the final agreement of purchase and sale.
“Even after what just happened?” She checks again. Boy, she’s lacking that killer real estate instinct, isn’t she?
“Because of what just happened,” I proudly say, handing her back the stack of Heartland Cove Realty’s legals.
“You’re not the least bit spooked.”
“What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you just won a trip to Hawaii?” I pat her back. “Now, which of those are mine?” I hold out my hand, waiting for my papers. Reluctantly, she signs them.
"Here you go." She separates them into two neat piles and passes me mine. "So, you really don't mind—"
“Sharing a house with old Edgar Locklear.” I finish her sentence, her apprehensive grip still not willing to completely let go of the papers. “No.” I lean in close, whispering in her ear. “I actually see it as a challenge. I’m gonna tame the old boy. You just watch.” I pry the papers from her hand.
“He’s not the first ghost I’ve ever moved in with, and he likely won’t be the last.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Actually,” I add. “I think we’re gonna become quite good friends.” I tap the papers on the desk, then roll them in my hand, jamming them into my back pants pocket, before leaving. “If that’s that, I’ll be on my way.” I turn and head toward the door.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Anna totters after me, wringing her hands. “I could find you something else. Another stately place along the water’s edge. We have a lot of them, you know? It’s not too late to rip the papers up.” Her voice quivers and her eyes glow, as though old Edgar’s hand is still gripping her arse.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to sue you, if this doesn't work out," I whisper. "Besides, shouldn’t you be more concerned about what you're gonna pack? Didn't you just win a trip?"
“Right. To Hawaii.” Her brows dip. “But it’s not likely the boss will come good on his promise.”
“Yes, he will. I’ll see to that.” I wink back at her, as I exit the door.
“Wait!” she calls after me. “You forgot the key!” She holds it up in the air.
Like I’m gonna need that.
“Right,” I say, doubling back for it, taking it in hand, tossing it lightly in the air. “Hey, maybe when I get settled in, you can come have dinner with me.” I smile.
“What?”
“You know, join me for a little dinner party—”
Anna swallows hard. “S-sure…” Her voice vacillates up then down like a nervous sli
de trombone.
“Maybe you can even invite that crazy friend of yours to join us,” I add, jerking my head toward Bates’ Baits across the street.
“You mean, Jules?” Anna’s voice pitches.
“Do you have another crazy friend?”
“Several, actually.” She rolls her hands.
“Anyway, ask Jules. I’d love to see her again.” I press on through the door.
“I-I dunno,” Anna trips after me, hesitating over the threshold. “She’s not much for parties.”
“Then persuade her.” I grin back over my shoulder.
“I don’t think Jules is really into ghosts.”
“Good,” I say. “Cause, I don’t plan on keeping him. I’ll see you two later.” I flip the key up for last time and tuck it in my pocket. “Thanks for the cool house.”
“You’re welcome,” she weakly says.
I drag a hand through my hair as I walk to my car, hitting the button on my key fob to open the door, then hesitate before getting in, looking back across the street.
The bait shop is closed, but there’s movement in one of the upper windows. I squint, seeing a shapely shadow passing by the curtains holding a coffee cup. It’s Jules, in what looks to be the attic of the house, dressed in a white gown. She turns, admires herself, and begins to undress, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Her exposed shoulders and bare back. And then, as if she’s sensed someone’s looking, her head snaps and turns.
I glance away, feeling oddly voyeuristic for staring. Something in my heart just wouldn’t let me look away. Something in my hands felt like I was touching her.
Gawd, Sievert, you’ve got it bad.
I drop into my car.
You’d better cool it with this thing, you’ve got work to do. I drum my thumbs on the steering wheel and glance back up, my eyes traipsing over the empty window where Jules had just been.
This ghost better be worth it.
Chapter 13
Jules
“Jules!” Anna’s voice bellows up the back stairs, bouncing off the walls up to our second-floor apartment. “Jules, are you there?” Her shoes clap the treads. She’s let herself in the back door of the shop, just as she has since we were little girls. “Jules!” she shrieks.
My goodness, this must be important. “What?” I answer, giving up the dishes and heading toward the door. I throw it open and there she is.
“Omigoodness, you’re never going to believe this.” She marches past me into the hall. Her hands are trembling, and her skin tone is ashen. I've never seen her like this before. "It was the scariest thing." Her eyes are wide. They look like they're gonna bulge from her head. What the bejeebers?
“That place is really haunted!” Dad groans and she twists her head his way. “Oh, hey, Mr. Bates.” She tosses him a light wave, gaining back some composure, but still shaking.
Dad sits in the living room, glued to the TV screen, hovering over a bowl of salty chips. It's basketball night. So pretty much a bomb could drop, and he wouldn't notice. He crunches, waves, and returns to the screen.
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" Anna grabs me by the arm, desperate to yank me into privacy.
"Yeah, sure. Let's head into the kitchen." I start that way, and she overtakes me. "What is it? What's going on?" I follow her in.
“I tell you, I’ve never seen anything like it. And the crazy-ass bought it anyway!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The house, silly!”
She peels off her coat and tosses it through the doorway at my bed. It misses, and she leaves it there. Anna, the neat freak, the one who refolds all our dishtowels in the drawers whenever she's over, is just gonna leave that coat lying there? Something must be scary wrong.
She grabs my arm and steers me to the back of the kitchen, Raptors game playing in the background.
“That guy. The heartthrob with the beardie beard—”
“Heartthrob?” I cross my arms. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Liar.” She gives me a shove. “I saw the way you looked at him. Besides, that man is poppy-seed scrumptious, and you know it.”
“Okay, so maybe he’s not so hard on the eyes—”
“Anyway, Mr. Beardie Beard”—Mr. Beardie Beard. I have to admit that’s a good one— “he bought the manor. What a freak!”
“Wait! Wasn’t that the objective?”
“Yes, but, not after what happened? By the way, I saw you up here undressing for him in your studio window.”
“What?”
“Don’t act like you weren’t flirting. Anyway, you can’t have him ’cause he’s a complete lunatic. Totally. Certifiably. Off his stick.” She Xes him out in the air. “Do you have any coffee?”
“Huh?”
“Coffee?”
“No, the other thing—”
“Oh, yeah.” She folds her arms. “I tell you, it was like something out of a horror flick, what happened to us.”
“What happened?”
I reach into the cupboard and take down two cups.
“That house has a ghost, you know?”
“Seriously. What a revelation.”
“Okay, so, maybe I didn’t believe the rumors at first, but now I do. I saw the thing with my own eyes. It was green and glowing, white at first, and the air around it was freezing cold.”
“That very same thing happened when we were there,” I murmur.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
She shakily takes a sip of her too-hot coffee, then makes a face.
"Here, let me put water in that for you." I grab her coffee back.
"I tell you, I've never been so frightened. You know that bastard put his hand on my arse."
“Jayden?”
“No. The creature. Right like this.” She demonstrates.
“You’re sure it was him and not Mr. Beardie Beard?”
“You’re kidding me now, right?” I hand her back her coffee. “Besides, Mr. Beardie Beard was in front of me the whole time. I tell you, Jules, that ghost meant business. It nearly locked us in.”
I think it did lock us in when we were there. For a few moments, at least. I narrow my eyes, trying to recall how it happened, and how we got out. Was it me, or was it him, who yanked open the door?
“Then, when we finally get out and back to the jeep, the lunatic announces he wants to buy the place! Just imagine, after something like that? He looks me in the eyes and says, I’ll take it! I tell you, Jules, I nearly passed out—”
“Who opened the door?” I say.
“What?”
“The door. How did you get out?”
Anna thinks. "I don't know. I don't remember. What does that matter now?" She scowls. "I tell you, Jules, I don't understand it." She paces. "I went into the house all by myself, and everything was perfectly fine. I go back to the house to show it to him, and the thing is totally possessed.”
“I know the feeling,” I mumble to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Go back to the part where he saw me undress.” I fill the Keurig and turn it on.
“Oh, you were up in the attic window wearing a gown one minute, and nothing the next.”
“I was not.”
“Oh, yes, you were. We both saw you do it. From the street.”
“When?”
“About a half an hour ago.”
“I swear I wasn’t even in the attic.”
The Keurig goes off and we both jump.
"Anyway," Anna continues. "It doesn't much matter because I forbid you to date him. The man is absolutely cray-cray.” She squints. "He either wants to be dead or talks to the dead—"
“It’s the latter—”
“What? How do you know?”
"He told me when we were up at the house—"
"When?" Anna's brows scrunch. "And you didn't think to let me know before I went up there with him?" Anna's shriek is really loud now.
“Well, you didn’t ask—”
>
“I have to ask you such a thing?” Her shriek jumps a decibel.
“Why? What happened?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She thrust-crosses her arms. “Just everything!”
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” I step toward her.
“No.” She shrugs me off. “But whatever’s in that house threw him clean across the room—”
“It did what?”
"You heard me. And then the dumb fart tells me he wants to buy the place! Right there in the car, as we're squealing away! I tried my best to deter him. I did. But he insisted. And paid full price for it, too, the fool. I ask you, who does that in this market?”
“I dunno.” I stare, dumbfounded. “Only a lunatic?”
“Exactly!” She takes a shaky slurp of her too-hot coffee.
Or a man who really needs to talk to a ghost.
I bite my lip and fall back against the countertop.
“What if he’s a serial killer?” she blurts.
“Oh, come on, now…”
“I’m serious, think about it. He did invite us up there to dinner.”
“He what?”
“He wants us both to come to dinner, as soon as he gets settled in the place.”
“Oh, no.” I slam my cup down firmly. “Uh-uh, I will not go. Besides, you should have to go. You’re the one who sold him the place—”
“You showed it to him first!”
“Oh, please, I only gave the man a ride—”
“I’d say it was joint effort.”
"You're ridiculous; you know that?"
“Oh? Truth be known, you’re the one he really wants to have over for supper.” Anna slurps her coffee.
“And, how do you know that?”
"Because." She slips me a jelly sideways glance. "He was adamant that I invite you.” She sips her coffee loud. “He reminded me three times about asking you.” She shows me with her fingers. “Even addressed you by name.”
“Seriously?”
“Um-hum.” She slats her eyes, jealous-like
I cradle my cup and sink back against the countertop, looking dreamily away. “Really…” Our moments alone in the house come flooding back. Me, tucked in the warmth of Jayden’s arm. The strength in his forearms as I clung to them. The heat of his skin against my skin as I stood shivering with fear. The pulse of his breath at the back of my neck.
