Keep Me Ghosted (Sophie Rhodes Romantic Comedy #1)

by Karen Cantwell

  “Of course. That makes sense.” But he took the time to look and do the math. Good sign.

  “And from your social security number, I know you were born around here.”

  Okay. He really was paying attention. Even better sign. “Stephens City Hospital. Can’t get more local than that.”

  “So you have family here?”

  “Not anymore. I take that back. My Grampy is here. Mom and Dad divorced a few years ago. She moved to Phoenix and he moved to Alaska.”

  “They were as different as their retirement locations?”

  “Basically. How about you? Did you grow up here?”

  “Yup. Mason Ridge.” Stephens City, Mason Ridge, and Wells Corner formed a famous triad of towns that might as well have been one big city. Each had four elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school.

  “Oh? So you went to Mason Ridge High School.”

  “Go Razorbacks.”

  “Ha, we whooped your butts the entire four years I was at West Stephens High.”

  “Now here’s what I never understood—there’s only one high school in Stephens City. Why is it called West Stephens High?”

  “Leaving the option open for an East Stephens High?”

  “So you don’t have brothers or sisters?”

  “I have a brother. He lives in Wells Corner.”

  “You didn’t mention him in your list of local relatives.”

  “We’re not very close.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Darn. That was just the kind of conversation killer that I’d hoped wouldn’t arrive on the scene. We both took time during the awkward silence to sip some wine when a couple, being escorted to their table by the maître d’, spotted Cal and took a detour. The man, whom I deduced was the husband of the pair based on the wedding ring, patted my dinner partner on the back. “Hey, Coach Callahan! How are you?”

  Cal twisted around, surprised. He smiled and stood to shake the man’s hand. “Mr. Sullivan. Good to see you.” He shook the lady’s hand as well. She smiled broadly in return. “Mrs. Sullivan,” said Cal. “Um, this is Sophie Rhodes. A friend.” They gave me friendly smiles.

  “How is Lindsay?” Cal asked the couple.

  “She’s good,” said the dad. “Ready for the game. Listen, we don’t want to interrupt you two, just wanted to make sure we said ‘Hi.’” He shook Cal’s hand again. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yup, yup,” nodded Cal. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  The Sullivans were walking away when two servers came with our plates, followed by the waiter who instructed them where to set them down. I talked around the servers. “Coach Callahan?” I asked.

  “I coach a girls soccer team.”

  The waiter refilled our wine glasses, which were quite low, then asked us if we needed anything else. I shook my head.

  “We’re good, thank you,” Cal told him.

  I dipped my fork into the risotto. “Girls and soccer. I bet that keeps you busy. How old are the girls?”

  “Sixth grade right now. I’ve been with this team of girls for three years. And yes, they do keep me busy. Actually, the girls are great. Hard workers, fun. The parents are great too. A couple of the other coaches have some problem parents, but I’m lucky.”

  “Why are you seeing them tomorrow? It’s not soccer season is it?”

  “Just for fun, we’re playing a couple of teams over the summer. Gets the girls together, keeps the team spirit high, and they get some practice in.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It is. Although, ever since Moonflower has shown up, it’s been a little trying. I never put two and two together before, but you’re right. She doesn’t like me around women. Young or old.”

  “Speaking of Moonflower—she’s surprisingly absent still.”

  “And I’ve noticed we’re free of Marmaduke too. Thank goodness for small favors.”

  “While we’re on the subject, I wanted to talk to you about Mrs. Wiley.”

  “Mrs. Wiley?” He made a face while trying to place the name. “Oh! The mother of the twins. Nice lady.”

  “Right. She is. Really nice, actually. And she’s a medium.”

  “You mean, as opposed to a large or extra-large?”

  “A medium—a person who communicates with spirits.”

  “She actually put that down on the information sheet?”

  “No, she handed me her card.” I fished through my clutch, since I’d slipped it in there purposely to show him, and handed it over when I found it. “She knew Moonflower was a problem the minute she stepped into the office the other day.”

  He inspected the card in his hand. “You think we should call her?”

  “Actually, I already did. She, uh, she’s willing to come by Monday after hours to see if she can talk with Moonflower and...” I realized I was leaving out a huge part of the story. “Let me back up a little. There’s more you should know.”

  I took him all the way back to the resurrection of Ronald Ellison, mentioned the information the Ellisons gave me about Jina Bhandari, through my first conversation with Mrs. Wiley, on to the reason for my drunken escapade at Barney’s with Shane, threw in the introduction to Jina’s boyfriend and the father of her unborn baby, Jonathan, and finished up with Mrs. Wiley’s visit to my apartment and her willingness to help tap into Jina/Moonflower’s frequency. The speech was long and uninterrupted. I needed a big swig of ice water to hydrate my dry mouth afterward. I eyed Cal’s reaction over the rim of my glass while I gulped.

  After a significant amount of time without a response from him, I decided to fish for an acknowledgment, good or bad. “Are you okay with all of this?”

  He remained motionless, but finally spoke. “You mean, I didn’t save Ronald Ellison’s life?” The disappointment on his face was heartbreaking.

  Here I was worried that he didn’t care for all of my self-directed investigative work, and he was still hung up on the introduction to my long and sordid tale. I suppressed a smile and winced instead. “Not really, no. But Dory Ellison doesn’t know that. She’s still very grateful.”

  “Grateful for nothing. So basically, I did nothing more than swap spit with a dead man who brought himself back to life.”

  “Isn’t it the thought that counts?”

  “You’re sure that Moonflower is the ghost of this Jina Bhandari?”

  “Everything fits. She calls you Johnny, and that’s what she called her boyfriend. Her favorite flower was the moonflower, and she said her name was Moonflower.”

  “It’s very nice of Mrs. Wiley, but I don’t know...” he scanned the restaurant. “Maybe we won’t need her after all. This would have been the kind of thing Moonflower—uh, Jina?—would have shown up for. Maybe seeing her boyfriend in our office was just what she needed and she’s off bothering him now.”

  I shrugged. He could have been right. But I had left out a key piece of information, and while it was true that Jina Moonflower might have moved on, I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t mention it anyway. “There’s one other little thing I forgot to mention,” I said hesitantly.

  He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “What are your thoughts on witchcraft?”

  It took two glasses of water and a promise that I wouldn’t talk about witches, but eventually, Cal’s sudden coughing fit subsided. We ordered dessert and managed to find our way back to some enjoyable and enlightening conversation. I learned that he also enjoyed hiking, although he didn’t find the time for it as he’d like, and on our drive home, he found out about my love for animals and desire to be trained as a wildlife rehabilitator some day.

  At my apartment building, he walked me up to my door. I had no idea if I should ask him in or not. If this were a date with anyone who wasn’t my employer, and I liked him the way I liked Cal, I would have. But this was different. I decided rather than hedge the subject, I’d attack it square on. I pulled the key from my purse. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I should ask
you in or not...”

  He shook his head. “I have to get up early for that soccer game tomorrow. Need to go get some shut-eye.”

  That was easy. Disappointing, but easy.

  “Okay,” I nodded. I slipped the key into the lock, then looked into those blue eyes.

  The crooked smile appeared and he leaned in close, dropping his voice to a sexy near-whisper. “It’s soap.”

  Those stomach-butterflies that were noticeably absent when talking to Shane, now arrived in a swarm. “What?” I asked, enjoying the proximity of his lips to mine. If he came any closer, kissing them would be required. Or possibly I’d just nuzzle into the crook of his inviting neck. Oh man, nuzzling would be really nice. My hormones kicked in, warming areas that hadn’t been warmed in a while.

  “I don’t wear cologne.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, making that potential kiss even easier, if one of us were so inclined. “You’re smelling the soap that I use.”

  My face flushed hot at the reminder of my excessive fawning over his fragrance. Embarrassed, I broke his stare and looked at my hands. “I am, uh, so sorry for... coming on so strong, you know. The other night. It was... the whiskey talking.”

  “I hope it wasn’t only the whiskey.” He turned my face back to look at his. “I liked what you had to say.”

  Ah geez.

  He kissed my cheek. “Good night.”

  “Uh-huh.” I sighed.

  He departed down the stairs, but turned and gave me one more smile before disappearing.

  Good night.

  I’m fairly sure I floated into my apartment and right over to my couch where I plopped down and hugged a throw pillow, smiling.

  Peter Pan was already out and running in his wheel. He stopped for a minute, gazed at me with his bulging black eyes, wiggled his little whiskers, then went back to running. I sat up and looked into the cage, desperate to tell someone what a wonderful night I’d had. “Peter—he’s just so nice and cute and... nice. He donates money to the homeless and coaches girls soccer. I think he might just be perfect.”

  Peter loves me, I know, but he didn’t really care. He needed exercise after all. Uno was digging in his litter box ready to do his business, so the time was wrong for opening a conversation with him.

  “Marmaduke?” I called out. Marmi would be glad for me. At least, I hoped he would be. “Marmi?” I called again.

  Hmm. That was odd.

  I stood and called into the air again. “Marmi? Are you there?”

  Well, if he was there, he wasn’t showing himself, and he certainly wasn’t talking to me.

  I went to bed, still happy about my evening with Cal, but quite frankly, more than a little worried about my friend and where he’d disappeared to.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE DOORBELL WOKE ME FROM a strange and somewhat disturbing dream about Moonflower and Marmaduke, yet the moment my eyes were open, I could barely remember the events of the dream—just the emotion of it. Fear.

  I stumbled to the door, thankful to be released from the dream, but irritated with whomever was ringing the bell. A blurry peek through the peep hole erased any annoyance I had experienced. My visitor was Cal. I smiled and pulled the door open, forgetting I wore nothing more than a very skimpy pair of pajama shorts and a tank top.

  “We won!” he said brightly, holding up a McDonald’s bag and a cup holder with two drinks inserted. “Care to celebrate with me?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Ten fifteen. Too early?”

  “Not for soccer coaches, apparently. Let me, uh, get something on... stay there.” I ran to my room, pulled a robe from the closet and tied it on. Returning, I gave him the green light to come in, pulling the door open wide. “What did you get me?”

  He unloaded the bag onto my small round dining table. Two wrapped breakfast sandwiches and two orders of hash browns. Or, at least what McDonald’s calls hash browns.

  “Well,” he explained, “it was tricky, because I wasn’t sure if you were a vegetarian since you’re an animal lover, but then I remembered you had chicken for dinner last night, so I got you a chicken biscuit. Does that work?”

  “Sure.”

  “And caffeine-laced soda—Coke.”

  We both pulled out chairs and sat. “A breakfast fit for a queen.” I stuck a straw into the soda lid and sipped heartily. “What was the score? Did you annihilate the opposition?”

  “Crushed them, I’m proud to say. Nine to zero.”

  “My stomach thanks them. And you.” I chomped down into the juicy biscuit sandwich, making sure to wipe away any errant crumbs hanging around the edges of my mouth, then sipped some more soda.

  He took a bite of his McMuffin and looked around the apartment while he chewed. After a swallow, he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Marmaduke?”

  “Good question.” I called out again. “Marmi? Are you there?” Nothing. My tummy felt like it was starting to reject the chicken biscuit. “Hmm.” I tried again, putting a sing-song twist on the summons. “Marmi, come out, come out wherever you are.” No sound other than that of Cal sipping his hot coffee. I put the sandwich back down on the wrapper. “He wasn’t around last night, either,” I said.

  “Maybe he and Moonflower—Jina?—took a little vacation together. I haven’t seen her for a while either.”

  “This isn’t like Marmaduke, though. He’s usually around if I call.”

  “Trust me, not like my ghost either. She’s been like a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of a shoe that you just can’t shake off.”

  I gave it some thought, then realized that Marmaduke was probably just giving me some space to get to know Cal. He had promised me things would go well, and they had. Really well. In fact, it made sense that he was probably around and just keeping quiet since Cal was there now. Deciding all was probably just fine, I polished off the remaining bit of sandwich and slurped from the soda cup until all that was left was ice. “Don’t get me wrong,” I said, rolling the sandwich wrapper and throwing it back into the McDonald’s bag. “I love that you came this morning, but...”

  He anticipated my question. “Why am I here?”

  “Yeah.”

  He wadded his sandwich wrapper, sending it into the bag behind mine. “I had a good time last night.”

  I smiled. “Me too.”

  He turned in his chair, his knees touched mine. “I kind of didn’t want it to end.”

  “Me either.”

  “Do you ever go hiking?”

  Never hiked in my life. “Uh, you know, I have, uh, hiked...” I shook my head. I was going to try to finesse it and seem like I was Ms. Outdoors, but I’d been there done that with pretending to be something I wasn’t just to be with a man. I was almost thirty—time just to be myself. “Honestly? No.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I’ll try anything once.” I reconsidered that claim. Better not open the door to the strange and kinky. I didn’t know him that well. “Uh, within reason, that is.”

  “I thought we could go up to Ridge Falls Park. They have some amazing hiking trails there. I’m surprised you’ve never been there since you grew up around here.”

  “I said I’m not a hiker. I didn’t say I’ve never been to Ridge Falls Park.” The fact of the matter was, Ridge Falls Park had a very famous boulder that overlooked the falls. People called it the kissing rock. I’d done some time with more than one boyfriend on the kissing rock. It was a good place for making out, that was for sure. But I wasn’t bringing that up just yet. Later maybe...

  He scooted his chair back and stood. “I was being a little presumptuous, but I packed water bottles and a lunch already.”

  “Then I can’t say no, can I? I don’t have hiking boots though.”

  “We can stick to the easy trails. Just wear tennis shoes.”

  “Those I have.”

  Thankfully, a cool mass of air had swept in overnight, turning down the heat dial from the oppressive high nineties to more comfortable low eighties w
ith virtually no humidity. I was pleased from a comfort perspective, not to mention that I wouldn’t look like I’d taken a detour through a car wash by the end of our hike.

  Outside of the car in the parking lot at Ridge Falls Park, Cal threw a backpack over his shoulder and pointed the way to a trail that began at the far end of the lot near a large picnic pavilion. “We’ll take that one. Founder’s Trail. It splits off part of the way up to a more difficult trail, but if we stay on Founder’s we’ll still find a couple good spots with good views of the falls.”

  “You’re the experienced one. You lead, I’ll follow.”

  “I’m surprised, with your interest in wildlife, that you don’t hike. It’s a great way to see wild animals in their natural environment.”

  “Remember, I’m just in the desiring-to-be-a-rehabilitator phase. Still have a way to go. It’s a long road from interest to actually doing the training.” I was already huffing and puffing and we’d only traveled a few yards on the trail.

  “You should do that. The research I mean. Were you one of those kids that came out of the womb loving animals?”

  “I don’t know about that early. But my first word was kitty. And I went on to beg my parents endlessly for pets.” I paused to catch my breath. “This is the easy trail?”

  He laughed. “The payoff is just around the corner. Trust me, the workout is worth it. How many pets did they let you have?”

  “Two dogs, two cats, and a bearded dragon.” Feeling rested enough, I started moving again, Cal following my lead.

  “A bearded dragon. Don’t they live a long time? Like a hundred years or something?”

  I shook my head and giggled. “I think you’re thinking of sea turtles. Bearded dragons only live to be about ten. Unless you own two cats who manage to get into his habitat and scare him into cardiac arrest.”

  Cal made a face. “They didn’t have him for dinner afterwards, did they?”

  “Luckily, no.” I shook my head. “It was a sad day when we buried Abraham Lincoln. How about you? Did you have pets?”