Page 22 of Ghostridden
My smile widened. “I’d like that.”
“Really?” His whole face seemed to glow. “That’s great. That’s— How about tomorrow?”
I had to laugh. He really was adorable. Granted, we didn’t exactly know one another, but I didn’t think he was punking me with the ghost stuff anymore, considering I’d seen evidence to the contrary. More or less. But that’s what dating was for, right?
“I’m not sure what tomorrow will look like. I’m starting work at the Manor in the morning, and until I can get an idea of the scope, I’m not sure what my schedule will be like. Maybe check in at around four? See where I’m at? Unless that’s not enough time or—”
“No! No, that’s fine.” He held out one square, capable hand. “Want me to put my contact info in your phone?”
“Sure.” I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it over. We did the whole contact-text-contact routine. “And thanks for your help with the locks…”Right. The locks. “You know, when I got home and tried to unlock the door, the keyhole was stuffed withsawdust again. It was only the fact you’d showed me how to reprogram the garage door that I was able to get inside.”
His brows shot up. “Really? That’s… Well, I won’t say impossible because weirder things can happen, but highly improbable. It’s a little off the mason bee life cycle for this area, and their nest detritus isn’t technically sawdust, anyway.”
“Okay, so sawdust-like. What else could do that?”
“Not sure. Termites and carpenter ants both affect wood, but their damage wouldn’t be so localized, and they wouldn’t be interested in the metal lock mechanism.”
Termites. Ugh. I hated to think of my house under siege by insects as well as specters. “Do you think that’s likely?”
“Not really. Besides, I check for insect damage on this place every year when I look over Tia Sofia’s house and I’ve never seen any indication.” He gestured to the door. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Be my guest.”
I followed him to the door and caught Gil up when Ricky opened it and knelt to check out the lock.
“You’re right. It’s blocked again.” He rose. “I’ve got my toolbox outside in my truck, though, so I’ll make sure both locks are clear tonight. That okay? Shouldn’t take me long.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” We stood there for a moment, grinning at one another, and for an instant, I thought he might lean close enough for a kiss. But instead, he raised one hand and slipped outside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.
I sat on the stairs again, earning myself a lapful of Gil. I sighed as I petted him, listening to Ricky humming in counterpoint to his tools.
“Is this a bad idea, Gil? I don’t have the greatest track record with men. And this is a small town. If it doesn’t work out, things could get…awkward.”
On the other hand, things could turn out great. I really needed to stop sabotaging myself, even in my head. Yeah, Greg had beena mistake. And so had Neal before him, and Terry before that. But my luck had to turn sometime, right? After all, I had a home now, so why not a boyfriend?
My hands stilled on Gil’s back and he nudged my arm with his nose to get them moving again. Yes, I had a home. But my home came with a judgmental ghost. A judgmental ghost whom apparently my cat and I could see, but Ricky could not.
I needed information from somebody with more experience. But where did you find somebody with actual expertise as opposed to a scam artist looking to take advantage of grieving people desperate to contact departed loved ones?
Well, my situation was slightly different: Ididn’twant to contact a loved one. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but it wasn’t waking up, never knowing if my home had been trashed overnight from ghost diva fits.
I pulled out my phone and did a web search forghosts, banishing of. Page after page of alleged paranormal investigators, a couple of sketchy fundamentalist exorcists, and wait…
Marguerite Windflower, Psychic Counselor.
She had a twenty-four-hour emergency number. What was the worst that could happen? Based on her website, she was located in Sarasota, so it’s not like she could show up on my doorstep or send the clairvoyant cops after me. I hoped.
So I took a deep breath and dialed the number.
“Greetings, pilgrim,” said a plummy voice, backed by ethereal music that sounded like whale song accompanied by a theremin. “If you’re calling about crystals or candles, please visit the online store. If you’re looking for wind chimes, I’m sorry, but I no longer carry them. For custom mantras or chakra evaluation, press 1. To schedule a video session without exorcism, press 2. For a video sessionwithexorcism, press 3. For all other inquiries, press 4, but if you tried raising a demon, on your own head be it. You were warned.”
I pressed 4, half expecting to get another automated menu. Instead, a cheese-grater voice said, “Whatcha got?”
“Hi. Um… Sorry? Is this Marguerite Windflower?”
“The same. But Hootie says you don’t need the woo-woo bullshit, so might as well get real right out of the gate. You can call me Peg.”
“Okay. Yes. Well…” I took another breath. Admitting to a stranger that I’d seen a ghost was harder than I expected. “Myname’s Maz. Do you know anything about ghosts?”
