Page 18 of The Rainbow Recipe
Afterthought,South Carolina
Wearingthe kitten heel pumps Loretta and Reuben had insisted she buy to look business-like, Evie nearly stumbled over the La Bella Gente Boutique threshold into the glossy interior of glass, chrome, and discreet lighting. Cursing inwardly, she plastered a smile on her face and tugged her ghostly companion inside.
Kit-Kat still wasn’t communicative, but her aura brightened perceptibly at familiar surroundings.
“May I help you?” the impeccably groomed saleswoman behind the counter asked in a plummy British accent.
Where’s the bloody git?The specter in her head demanded.
Oops, talking to a ghost and a salesclerk at the same time could be problematic. And the ever-present problem of ghosts not remembering names...She really couldn’t ask after abloody git.
“I’m looking for gifts. Do you have sample boxes, perhaps?” Evie had no credit card other than Loretta’s, and she was disinclined to use that. She prayed her tiny bank balance was sufficient if she ended up buying anything.
Jax had insisted that she open a business account for Sensible Solutions, but it was a struggle to keep a minimum balance.
As distracted by Evie’s ADD meanderings as much as Evie was, Kit-Kat tugged loose and vanished.
The salesperson gestured at a neat stack of beautifully beribboned boxes on a center table. “These contain trial sizes of our face and hand lotions, plus a bonus gift card for our extra-virgin olive oil that can be redeemed at our bistro when it opens next week.”
The display had no price. Evie knew if she had to ask, she couldn’t afford it. “The bistro is still opening? That’s fabulous. I feared with the loss of Lady Katherine, expansion would come to a standstill.”
The clerk shrugged with a slight moue of distaste. “Her brother has stepped up to carry on.”
Employees not fond of Matt Gladwell, duly noted. Evie gestured at the display. “Are they scentless? My sister is allergic to fragrance.”
“Our fragrances are all natural. Has she shown any reaction to rosemary? We have a marvelous extract...” She swayed hips encased in a tight black skirt to the counter containing pink seashell boxes with the contents visible.
What Evie really wanted was Kit-Kat’s reactions, but it was difficult tuning into ghostly auras while real people waited for response.
Thank all the heavens, another shopper entered. Evie waved a dismissive hand. “Let me look around and think about it. Help your other customer.”
The instant Evie opened her extra sense, her ghostly apparition flared pink and mutteredbitch.
Tell me how you really feel, Evie thought to herself, then murmured more politely, “You know her?”
Vincent’s whore. The aura cycled through anger and confusion and floated behind the counter. Anger flared brighter.Fake.
Evie eased in that direction. Apparently the more expensive items were kept in a case behind the counter. The jars and bottles sparkled like crystal, even tempting Evie to touch. The discreetly printed sign named the various products along with long lists of ingredients and their miraculous results.
Evie wondered if her face needed firming or regenerating or if retinol would hide the shadows under her eyes when she didn’t clock enough sleep. Somehow, she doubted it, or women wouldn’t pay for face lifts.
She thought maybe her ghost believed otherwise. “Is any of this any good?” she whispered. It wasn’t as if she knew how to talk face cream.
The aura turned muddy with deception.Mine was.
“This isn’t your formula?” Evie pulled out her phone and pretended to talk into it. If only she’d had this lovely device when she’d been in school, people wouldn’t have laughed at her. But she could never afford one until Loretta came along.
Vincent said mine was too expensive.Then Kit-Kat disappeared behind the curtain that separated the shop from storage.
Maybe she should escape and leave the ghost behind.
“Aren’t you Evangeline Carstairs, the ghostbuster?” a nasal voice asked. The emphasis onghostbusterwas more sneer than curiosity.
Evie debated ignoring the question. She could abandon Kit-Kat in her place of worship and walk out, but that wouldn’t solve her case. Deciding to imitate Pris, she donned an impassive expression, swung around, and raised inquiring eyebrows. She wished she could lift just one. She’d always wanted to look supercilious.
Well, shrimp size and orange hair prohibited that.
Forsaking the peeved sales clerk, Lawless Jane Lawson, columnist and blogger, approached as if smelling something rotten. Apparently dressing like a hobo and having a face on the wrong side of ugly did not shake her confidence as it did Evie’s. “I suppose your sick little business is faring well now that another weirdo is running the town.”
