Ghost for Sale

by Sandra Cox

  “I tell you that gravy boat floated through the air.” Vel’s ample bosom heaved. She stepped in front of Uncle Leon. “And if you don’t believe me, you can accept my resignation here and now.”

  Liam looked alarmed. No doubt concerned about his gentlemanly gesture backfiring even further. The rest of us watched, amused. Even Dad’s sharp gaze relaxed as he turned it on Uncle Leon and Vel.

  The cook had worked for them since I was five. Not a month went by without some altercation between Vel and Uncle Leon. I think they both enjoyed it and, by my dad’s twitching lips, he felt the same. He stepped into the breach. “Now, Vel. If you say the gravy boat floated through the air, I for one believe you.”

  In two strides, he stood beside her and put his arm around her. “You know that no one in the family could do without you. I’d be devastated without your Sunday fried chicken.”

  That snapped her back. Clever, Dad, clever. She straightened. “Oh my, your brunch will be cold. Go on in and get to eating. I’ll reheat the gravy and bring it right in.”

  Uncle Leon rolled his eyes but trooped out with everyone else. As Dad walked through the door, he turned and stared at the refrigerator before he swung back and strode into the dining room.

  I was the last one out. As I started for the door, Liam appeared in front of it. He raised his arm to open it for me before he caught himself. Either that or my look of abject terror clued him in. His arm dropped. “This is very frustrating for me. I’m a gentleman, not a churl. Gentlemen open doors for ladies.”

  Churl. I’d have to remember that one. The boy was fascinating.

  “Go on, girl, before your father gets any more ideas. I’m right behind you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered.

  Once at the table, I heaped my plate. My mom broke off her conversation with Aunt Janet, looked at me, and frowned. “Good gracious, Caitlin, you’ll be sick if you eat all that. Are you nervous? You always overeat when you’re nervous.”

  “Nervous? What’s there to be nervous about? Floating gravy boats and ghosts?” Hysterical laughter burst from my throat.

  Everyone at the table stopped speaking and stared. Marcy, bless her, changed the subject. “Momma, did you know Black’s is having a shoe sale? Even though I can’t take advantage of it, there’s no reason for you not to pick up a pair of those darling espadrilles.” She shot her father a martyred look that he ignored, and the conversation resumed.

  After a huge piece of coconut pie, I rose groaning from the table.

  “Cat, why don’t you stop over this week? We haven’t had a chance to chat in all the flurry of graduation and you settling in with Marcy,” Daddy said.

  Uh-oh, fishing expedition. “Sure, Dad. I’ll bring Marcy along.” Check and check mate.

  I gave everyone the prerequisite hug before I hustled out the door, Marcy on my heels bemoaning her lost credit cards.

  “Nice family.” Liam floated beside me, his hands in his pockets.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Not much gets past your father.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I just was. Weren’t you listening?” Marcy stopped to pull a tiny pebble out of her strappies.

  “Of course. It’s going to be a long two weeks,” I commiserated.

  “An eternity.” She sighed. “Just wait till I get a job. Then if he pulls my charge cards, it won’t matter.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I patted her arm.

  “What’s a charge card?” Liam’s frock coat snapped in the wind, his thick tawny hair danced in the breeze. A lock fell on his forehead. He looked yummier than the coconut pie we’d had for desert.

  My knees went weak. I raised my hand to push back that errant lock of hair before I caught myself. Finally, his question about credit cards registered. Pitiful. How had anyone survived in the 1800s without credit cards?

  “You can tell me later,” he decided.

  Thank you, your highness, I thought, grinning.

  Marcy glanced over at me. “It’s not funny.”

  “Of course it’s not,” I soothed. Trying to distract her from her grievances, I asked, “You want to go for a swim?”

  “On top of that dinner?” She groaned. “I’d never fit into my bikini. I think I’ll veg out in front of the flat screen and watch a movie.”

  “Let me do a few laps to work off the potatoes and gravy.” I managed not to look at Liam at the word “gravy”…but only just. “And then I’ll join you.”

  “Sure.”

  We’d reached the cottage. She headed for her room and I headed for mine. As I stepped into the bedroom, Liam disappeared. “I hope you’re keeping your word about no peeping,” I whispered.

  I tossed my dress on the bed, toed off my shoes, and slipped into my pink polka dot bikini, then swore. As bikinis went, it was pretty demure. It rode a sedate inch below my belly button and very little cleavage showed. The problem was my distended belly.

  Marcy called that one. I thought about wearing my black one-piece, then decided against it, going on the assumption I’d swim it off.

  I grabbed a short pink beach robe, took a detour to the fridge, poured myself some tea, and hauled butt out to the pool.

  The scent of chlorine assailed me, and I dove into the cool clear water. Ten laps later, I dragged myself into a lounge chair and slipped on sunglasses.

  The scent of cinnamon and limes tickled my senses. There he was. My heart gave a small jump and my stomach fluttered. How was it possible to have a physical reaction to a ghost, a mass of ectoplasm?

  “You have a good, strong stroke.” By the way his gaze traveled over me and the gleam in his eye, it appeared it wasn’t just my stroke he liked.

  He slid into the chair beside me, removed his jacket, and turned his face to the sun. His eyes drifted shut. A look of pure contentment played across his features. I had no doubt it was reflected on mine. I stretched out and wiggled my toes, admiring my Purple Sunset polish.

  “What does your father do for a living?”

  “Well there’s a mood breaker.” I picked up my iced tea. “He’s a reporter.”

  “That accounts for it.” He nodded his head.

  “Accounts for what?”

  “The sharp interest he took in me and in your response. Do you think he saw me? He kept staring in my direction.”

  “Good God, I hope not.” I nearly dropped my tea. As it sloshed over the sides, I shook the liquid off my hand. A shower of tiny droplets spattered on the smooth white stones my chair rested on and splotched them with dark spots. “Enough about my father. Where are you from, Liam O’Reilly, and what are you doing here?” I leaned forward and sipped my tea.

  “I’m from another time.”

  “Got that part, but where was your geographical location when you were alive? You mentioned Ruby Falls, Virginia. I don’t think I’m familiar with it.”

  “It’s a small town not too far from the Maryland border.” He paused and raised his eyebrows. “At least I assume it’s still there. My family ran a general store.” He shifted a bit in his chair and smiled, as if at pleasant memories, and his eyes lit with mischief. “The sweets in the store were a nice benefit.”

  “So you were the kid with his hand in the candy jar?”

  He threw back his head and laughed, a full, sensual sound.

  “Did you have a happy childhood?” Sunlight and shadow played over his high cheekbones and chiseled features. He looked both ethereal and real.

  “The best.” He grinned.

  Why did talking to Liam feel so normal? Feel so right? “Don’t you find it odd that we are chatting like old acquaintances when we barely know each other and I’m flesh and blood, and you’re ectoplasm?” How had it happened so quickly? The immediate connection. Nothing made sense.

  He winced.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude with the ectoplasm crack.” I reached over to touch him. His gray eyes glowed, and his
features grew grave. His outline grew sharper, more defined, and the wonderful scent of him became tangier with an almost sexual flavor.

  “Right.” I drew my hand back. Stupid, stupid, stupid. My heart galloped. What would have happened if I’d touched him? I rolled my shoulders and leaned back in the chaise. “So how did you end up in a test tube?”

  “I have no idea.” He put long, lean fingers on each side of his head and pushed his hair back. The moment his hands dropped, it sprang back. “One moment, I’m floating in darkness. In the old general store, I think.” He wrinkled his forehead. “It’s all very strange. It’s like my room above the general store superimposed on a more modern room where people I don’t know go in and out. I could smell the sweat and cologne of strangers, and the scent of my mother’s laundry soap all at the same time. I was there and yet I wasn’t. Not like I am now. It’s like they were on the periphery of my consciousness.

  “Anyway, the next thing I know some maniac, with hair standing all over his head and wearing glasses that are taped together, is clicking a little box that looks like a miniature camera. Every time he clicked, a green light shot out of the camera. Next, he turned on an apparatus with a hose that made a rumbling noise and, poof, I’m sucked down that hose into a cylinder bottle.” He shook his head. “It was stranger than being dead.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “No doubt.” He grimaced.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure it wasn’t fun. But wow!” I remembered the second test tube. “There were two test tubes.”

  “That’s right.” His face lost all expression.

  “Do you know who was in the second?”

  He rose from the chair and drifted away. For several moments, he stared at the glistening water in the pool. Finally, he faced me. “Anna.”

  Chapter 5

  “Your twin?” Poor Liam.

  “What in the world are you doing talking to an empty chair?” Marcy had changed into white short-shorts and a fitted navy top. She looked both fresh and sexy. By the glazed look in Liam’s eyes, he thought so too.

  Inspiration hit me like a bolt from the sky or divine intervention—not to mention my increased ability to lie. “I’m trying out for a part in the local theater.” B.S.-ing was an art form I’d always highly admired but never been able to master.

  “Really? I didn’t think you had any interest in the theater.” She sank down on Liam’s lounge chair. I opened my mouth to warn her but had no idea what to say. Don’t sit on the ghost? Before I could formulate a plan, she sprang up. Liam had better not have pinched her!

  He had a very satisfied male smirk on his face. When he caught my look of disapproval, his gaze turned pious.

  “What happened?” I asked cautiously.

  “I just got an electric shock. Have those cushions shocked you?” She rubbed her bum.

  “Yes, now that you mention it,” I lied again. Invention was the mother of necessity. Or necessity was the mother of invention. Whatever.

  “I’m going to have Lulu spray those cushions with an antistatic.”

  “Good idea. Did you want something?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She snapped her fingers. “Patrick’s on the phone.”

  “Patrick?” For a moment, my mind went blank.

  “You know, the hunky biology major you met last night. At least that’s what I thought you said.”

  “Oh, yeah, average face, good body. Yup, that’s what I said.” I pushed off the lounge chair and headed for the cottage. Marcy walked back with me.

  Liam stood by the pool, his thumbs hooked in his waistband, as he stared into the water.

  “Marcy, I’m going to grab my tea. I’ll be right there.” I trotted back, my sandals clopping against the pavement.

  When I reached Liam, I leaned forward and whispered, my gaze traveling superstitiously around the pool. “Is she here?”

  “Anna?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunately not. She escaped somewhere between here and Florida.”

  My heart gave a ka-thump of surprise.

  “Cat, are you coming?” Marcy called out.

  “Listen, I’ve got to take this phone call, but I’ll be back.”

  “The guy from Jimmy’s?” He rocked back on his heels, his face expressionless.

  “Yes.” I tried to gauge his mood.

  He waved me off. “Go on, girl. Take your phone call.”

  I hurried into the hall and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “Caitlin?”

  At the sound of his voice, tension left my body, and I returned to the world of the living. “Hello, Patrick.”

  “Did I call at a bad time?”

  “Not at all.” Liar, liar. Torn, I wanted to talk to Patrick, see him again, and I wanted to talk to my ghost. Was he all right? How did Anna’s escape affect him?

  “I had fun last night.”

  “Me too.” I strolled into the great room, where the sun poured in through the window. With the cordless held to my ear, I drew the drapes before I flopped on the couch.

  “I’d like to see you again.”

  “Would you?”

  “Dinner tonight?”

  I nearly groaned. I’d need to do another ten laps. “That would be great.”

  “Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I don’t think so. I liked Patrick, but I wasn’t giving my address out to anyone on a first date. “How about if I meet you?”

  “Works for me.”

  We decided on a small Italian restaurant two blocks from Jimmy’s. As I hung up, my nerve ends tingled, then settled as Liam materialized in front of me. “Don’t do that.” My heart had nearly crashed through my ribcage.

  “Sorry.” He sank down into the chair across from the couch. “So where are we going tonight?”

  “We?” I didn’t care for the sound of that. In this case, three most definitely was a crowd.

  “Have you forgotten?” His fingers were locked behind his head as he leaned back in the chair.

  “Forgot what?” I guess I had.

  “Wherever you go, I go. We’re linked.” He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles.

  The look on my face must have given away my lack of enthusiasm.

  “I won’t get in the way. Besides, you need a chaperone.”

  A sigh started in my belly and escaped my lips. “Liam, this is the twenty-first century. Women don’t go out with chaperones anymore. Do you recall seeing any chaperones last night?”

  “Hadn’t really given it much thought.” He shrugged.

  “Well, trust me. They don’t. Besides, it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything.” Jeez, I was even lying about my virginal state to a ghost. For the life of me I didn’t know why I’d brought it up, except for the fact I wasn’t about to admit to a guy I’d never been tempted. It was just not cool to be a virgin in the circles I ran in, but I doubted if that was the case in Liam’s world. I should have never mentioned it, and wished I hadn’t, but it was too late.

  I wondered if it would be any different with Patrick? I knew instinctively it would be with Liam, if he were flesh and blood instead of ectoplasm.

  His breath caught, and he looked like I’d sucker punched him. My throat thickened. His fingers tightened on the ends of the chair.

  “Are you a virgin then?” I asked rudely, going on the offensive.

  “That’s different. I’m a man.” He lifted his chin, an affronted expression on his countenance.

  “Oh, please.”

  “It’s different.” He placed one arm over the other and hooked them across his chest, his chin raised, lips tight.

  “Not today, it’s not.” I crossed my bare legs. His glance followed the movement before he looked away. A trail of red climbed up his collar, then flooded his face. Intriguing. “I told you, women don’t need to marry for sex. If they’re involved in a relationship, it’s a perfectly normal outcome.” Well for
most. I did a mental squirm. “Or if they want a one night stand, that’s okay too.”

  “One night stand?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “You know, if you’re attracted to someone and don’t want any strings attached.” My role of worldly sophistication, and the smugness that accompanied it, lasted for ten seconds.

  “And what kind of relationships do you form?”

  He sized me up. Disappointment flickered in his eyes, quickly masked.

  “None of your business.”

  “You’re right. Of course it isn’t.” He disappeared. One moment, he was there and the next he wasn’t.

  “Liam?”

  “Practicing your lines?” Marcy walked in, a can of soda dangling from her fingers.

  Caught. I swallowed down my heart, which felt like it had moved up to my throat. “Hi, I didn’t see you come in.”

  “What’s the name of the play?” Marcy sank down in the seat Liam recently vacated.

  “Ghost for Sale.” My nerves jumped. Was that a masculine chuckle?

  “Never heard of it. And while I think it’s great you’re trying out for a part, I’m off ghosts for a while. So what did Patrick want?” She picked up a fashion magazine and thumbed through it.

  “We’re going out tonight.”

  “That’s great.” Marcy clapped her hands. She was one of those people who truly enjoyed others good fortune.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The Grove.”

  “Good choice.” She nodded approval before turning her attention back to her magazine. “You’d better get ready.”

  The jeweled tabletop-clock on the mantle showed four-forty. “Good grief, it’s nearly five.” I sprinted for the bathroom.

  I took a hasty shower that left the room filled with steam and the scent of vanilla.

  Figuring out what to wear, I paced inside the walk-in closet, looking for something casual yet sexy.

  After tossing a dozen different outfits on the bed and constantly glancing over my shoulder to make sure Liam wasn’t spying on me—though what the difference would be between my underwear and my bikini I had no idea—I decided on an ecru silk top, boxy linen slacks and strappy black-heeled sandals.

  My watch with a shopping bag in the middle of the dial showed ten minutes till seven. Better boogie. “Marcy, can I borrow the car?” I called as I trotted out.