Page 4 of Ghost Note

The couple in front of me finally looked up from a shelf filled with ornate photo frames, and the male offered me a tight smile that told me he no more wanted to be shopping than he wanted to be having open-heart surgery on the black market. When his wife caught my eyes, she smiled too, her excitement genuine as she floated around the space, taking everything in.

“Your shop is beautiful,” she cooed, clutching her purse to her stomach. “I could clear your shelves in an hour.”

“Please,” I chuckled, “feel free.”

“Joan…” her husband grumbled.

“Or perhaps consult with the gentleman behind you first?” I suggested.

Joan rolled her eyes and dismissed him with a wave of her hand before she looked at the shelf just below the counter. It was filled with bath bombs, wax melts, and bars of soap that smelt practically edible.

“Ignore him. He’s old, and definitely no gentleman,” she grumbled. “Everything in here is so pretty.” Joan looked up at me from under her wispy brows. “As is the owner. I’m assuming you’re the Daisy of Daisy’s Devon.”

“I am.” I beamed, her compliments turning my cheeks pink. “And thank you. I love this shop. It’s been my life for two years now.”

Joan picked up a collection of different coloured bath bombs, and she planted them on the counter between us. “I can tell, Daisy. Just make sure you don’t always put work before pleasure while you’re still young.” She riffled through her purse to find a ten-pound note, and when she held it out for me, a subtle smirk tickled her lips. “Your youth should be fun. Let the serious stuff come later in life. There’s plenty of that to keep you occupied when the time is right.” She winked.

I wasn’t sure why her words made my smile falter, but they did, and I took the note from her, opened the register, and scrambled for her change.

“Keep it. These are worth more than you’re charging,” she assured me before she bundled the bath bombs into her cotton carrier bag and turned to leave. “Beautiful place, Daisy of Daisy’s Devon. Just like its owner.”

Joan and her husband left me standing there with nothing more than the bell jingling above the now-closed door, and my mouth parted as I watched them go.

A funny chill ran up the back of my neck, forcing me to blink, lick my lips and shut the till with a flourish.

Youth should be fun.

Fun.

It sure had been a while.

Memories of rolling around in bedsheets with a familiar boy’s smile floating above me as the sunlight poured through his bedroom came back to the forefront of my mind. Memories of that same boy chasing me on the beach, only to catch me and throw us both down into the sand came back, too.

Laughter—real laughter—echoed in my mind, taunting me with the sound of his voice and the hundreds of silly jokes we’d shared while lounging on his sofa, or walking hand-in-hand down the school corridors.

That repaired heart of mine crackled under the weight of the memories, reminding me that it was too weak to let those happier times linger for too long. That heart had been rebuilt with glue; the pieces awkward now, not quite fitting together as smoothly as they once had.

Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

The bells jingled again, and I looked up to see Ben’s head poking back through the door.

Clearing my throat, I held onto the counter and raised my brows at him. “May I help you?”

“Just getting one last glimpse of you before tonight.”

“You’re flirting again.”

“Daisy, I haven’t even begun to show you what I’m capable of yet.”

I rolled my eyes, picked up a mint wrapped in foil from a bowl by the till, and I threw it across the shop at him. He caught it easily—his smirk ever-present as he unwrapped it effortlessly and tossed the mint in his mouth.

“See you later.”

“Later.” I huffed out a laugh.

The door closed again, and even though Ben was in my sight, the remnants of Danny still tickled my mind.

“Goddamn son of a bitch,” I whispered to myself before I sighed heavily and got on with my day. A regular day. An ordinary day in an ordinary life being lived by an ordinary girl.

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