Dead People In Love (Haunted Hearts) (3 page)

Looking at Rose’s sad eyes, she amended that to heartache. She definitely didn’t need to share anyone else’s heartache.

No more ghost-talking gigs, she decided. She’d still talk to ghosts. That was a part of her and she couldn’t stop that any more than she could stop breathing. But she’d no longer do it for money.

“There’s a reason I can’t go to the lawyer’s,” Rose said. “I didn’t just give Donny my power of attorney. I deeded him my condo.”

Cassie closed her eyes. Coffee. Her brain needed coffee.

“What do you mean?” she asked, opening her eyes, and was immediately sorry for showing any interest.

“I signed it over to him. My son died of lung cancer six years ago.” Her voice wobbled but her gaze remained steady. “My daughter-in-law remarried and lives in London with her second husband. Donny’s my only family left. If something happened to me, I didn’t want him to pay extra taxes.”

“Is that legal?” Bridget asked.

Rose winced. “It’s legal. Perhaps I can revoke the power of attorney, but the lawyer made sure the property transfer couldn’t be contested.”

“His lawyer.” Bridget’s eyes flashing.

Another wince crossed Rose’s face. “Mine. I have a very good lawyer. Donny doesn’t have a lawyer.”

“I’ll bet my favorite knife set that Olivia has one.”
 

“I suppose she does, but Donny’s an adult. It’s his choice to agree or disagree with her.” Rose’s eyes moistened. “When I did it, he said the place was mine for as long as I lived.” Her lower lip trembled. “I think maybe I lived too long.”

Bridget gave a soft cry. Cassie leaned forward.

“He’s getting married,” she said, “Do you think he wants to move in?”

“I bet
she
does,” Bridget said. “She’s at all the parties. The
in
parties. I see her all the time.”

Cassie sat back, her eyebrows raised.

“I make desserts,” Bridget said. “My specialties are cakes. I get a lot of jobs at society functions. She’s at most of them. She didn’t recognize me, but I sure recognize her.” She shrugged, but her nostrils pinched together in distaste. “To women like her, I’m one of the staff. Invisible. But they’re not invisible to us.”

She paused, and Rose leaned toward her. So did Cassie.

Though no one was there to overhear her, Bridget’s voice lowered. “I heard from a couple sources that her family lost all their money. I don’t know if her friends know. But
we
know.”

“I don’t know why she wants Donny,” Rose said, her voice querulous. “He doesn’t like that world. He doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“Not yet, but he’s on his way.” Bridget’s hand sliced the air, half angry, half frustrated. “She’s an interior decorator for Chicago’s rich and richer. He designs furniture. Haven’t you told me how brilliant he is?”

“He’s an artist with wood.” Grandmotherly pride brightened Rose’s features. “He’s won awards and prizes. Lately he’s been getting big commissions.”

“Didn’t you say Olivia got them?” Bridget asked.

Rose sighed, the brightness dulling. “Olivia was so sweet in the beginning. But once she had the ring on her finger, she changed. Became possessive.”

“I know women like that,” Bridget said. “And men. They start out like purring cats, then they turn into tigers ready to pounce.”

Cassie nodded. She knew live people like that. And she’d met a few dead ones, too. The ghosts were solidly in the pouncing tiger stage. Not her most pleasant subjects.

Rose’s mouth curved down. A horseshoe with luck and time running out. “Olivia has big plans for Donny. I think she wants to be his Svengali.”

“So it’s going to be that kind of marriage?” Cassie asked. Her father had a marriage like that. It worked for him and Cassie’s stepmother. It worked for a lot of people.
 

Not her. If she wasn’t madly, wildly in love with Luke, why bother?

“It’s not only business,” Rose said. “Olivia’s very possessive. And my grandson is very handsome.”

Bridget shifted on the sofa. “Yes, he is. He’s so...” She stopped, shaking her head.

“So what?” Rose asked.

Cassie was wishing more and more for a cup of coffee. “Hot. He’s hot.”

Rose put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Floating five feet above Rose, a girl who looked to be about eleven giggled, too.

Cassie glanced up. As soon as she had a moment, she and the girl needed to have a long talk.

The dull flush of a toilet came from the bathroom next to the suite’s bedroom. By now Luke was probably running water for his shower.

She stood, restless. Grumpy. Sorry she wasn’t showering with him. “I’m making coffee. You want some?”

Bridget followed her into the kitchenette while Rose and the ghost remained in the seating area. Cassie got the coffee maker ready and Bridget leaned against the counter.

“I don’t think Donovan is a bad man,” Bridget said. “He talked to us after you left yesterday. He really wants to do what’s best for Rose.”

“As long as he doesn’t have to take care of her.” Cassie pressed the red On button and the machine’s little motor hummed to life.

Bridget’s face flushed. “I can see his point of view. He thinks the assisted living place is good for her. A nice place. Where she can talk to real people, not ghosts. That’s why he wants her to leave.”

“Do you think he’s right?” Cassie leaned against the other counter, crossing her arms as the first drop of coffee spat into the pot.

“Absolutely not. The ghost keeps Rose...happy.” Bridget gazed down at the floor, then up at Cassie. “Now you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I talk to ghosts for a living. You can’t get much crazier than that.”

Bridget smiled sadly. “She says the ghost loves her. And she loves him.”

As Cassie looked into Bridget’s dark brown eyes, she thought of Joe, her best friend who happened to be a ghost. Since her marriage to Luke, she’d only seen him a couple of times. She missed him.

“What does she want me to do? It sounds like Donovan’s mind is made up.”

“Talk to Herb.” Rose walked into the kitchenette. “
My
ghost. Talk to him.”
 

The coffee maker dripped steadily now. “It’s not the ghost who’s the problem,” Cassie said. “It’s the live people.”

Rose stared into her eyes and spoke in a fierce, husky whisper. “Find something that will make Donny
believe
.”

A chill shivered through Cassie. It wasn’t the ghost Rose wanted validated. It was their love she wanted recognized and approved of. She wanted to do anything in order to stay with him.

Words dragged out of Cassie’s mouth. “I’ll try.”

Squealing like a girl, Rose headed over to her and hugged her.

Cassie inhaled, smelling a faded flowery cologne and wondering how to make a nonbeliever believe?

In the Bible there was always a miracle to convert nonbelievers.

But she didn’t think God or an angel or even a genie was going to grant Rose this one.
 

Still beaming, Rose stepped back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She put both hands over her heart. “This means the world to me.”

The throbbing in Cassie’s right eye worsened, as if tiny elves were using her cornea as a drum.

There was only one way to make this miracle.

She’d have to stage one.

Chapter 5

“Too complicated,” Luke said, walking next to her on the path around Lake Michigan, along with what seemed like half of Chicago. In their shorts and T-shirts, no one noticed that a former rock god was among the crowd.

She wanted to tell him that he was negative and it was driving her nuts. It was true. He was and he did. But they were usually negative together. Except when it came to Erin—his daughter, her stepdaughter. Then they were two of the most positive people on the planet.

“I can do complicated.”

“It won’t work. You’ll want Joe’s help and you haven’t seen him for months. You can’t call him. As far as I’m aware, ectoplasmic phones aren’t invented yet.”

“Pessimist,” she said, but put no force into the word. “We have Isabel.”

“She’s not going to leave home.”

“I’m taping her favorite TV shows. She owes me.”

“You think she’ll care? She knows what a sucker you are.”

Cassie jabbed her elbow in his ribs, and he laughed at the puny force she put into it. All show and no muscle. Not with him, anyway. With him she was a marshmallow. One with a crusty covering.

A kid skateboarded past them, then another. Laughing and talking to each other. A woman and her dog jogged by them. Coming their way, two teens walked hand-in-hand, eyes only for each other. Looking at them, Cassie felt an ache.

Luke’s hand slipped onto hers, their fingers entwining.

The ache warmed. She forgot what she was thinking of before. Oh, the ghost.

“It will work,” she said. “It has to.”

“I believe you.”

“No, you don’t. You just want a piece of ass.”

He grinned. “I love your ass.”

She stopped. “I love a different part of your anatomy. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

 
The return was quick. What followed was slow. And satisfying. And made her glad she was married to him.

So was cuddling with him afterward. Something she hadn’t expected before she met him. For her, it was a way to extend the lovemaking. The warmth. The joining of their two bodies.

She thought of it as dessert. Foreplay was the appetizers. Sex was the main meal. Cuddling in his arms was her tiramisu. Or key lime pie. Or anything with chocolate.

With the last thought, she reluctantly pushed away but the contentment remained. A small piece of happiness lodged in her chest, right next to her heart.

Ten minutes later, she was on her way to Rose’s place, only five minutes away by taxi but she walked. As much as she loved their home by an inland lake, with her nearest neighbors a car ride away, she felt energized by the bustling pedestrians, the constant flow of traffic and the great expanse of Lake Michigan.

Her heart beat faster, her blood flowed quicker, her feet in their low-heeled shoes ate up the sidewalk. Blending in. Becoming one of them.

That’s what she’d learned to do in the years before she met Luke. Because letting people know you were different was like a puppy showing its belly. Its vulnerable spot. And she never knew when the so-called normal people would strike her in the belly.

At the condo, Rose hugged her, as if they were friends. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered.

There was a sinking feeling in Cassie’s gut. Not a small ship either. A battleship flopping over. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

The tips of Rose’s eyebrows rose while the corners of her mouth dipped. “I tried to stop them.”

“They’re in your living room?”

Rose nodded, looking unhappy.

“I’ll talk to them.” Cassie squared her shoulders, though she had no idea what she was going to say. She was better with dead people than live ones. But she marched into the living room, Rose following her.

Miss Gracious and Mr. Hunky were sitting on the couch. As if they were action figures and someone pressed their buttons, they stood.

“So nice to see you again,” Miss Gracious said.

Mr. Hunky shifted his feet and nodded.

“I wish I could return the compliment.” She spoke calmly but coolly. “Ghosts don’t like group confrontations. They’re shy.”

“Are they shy?” Miss Gracious’s smile didn’t dip but the skin around her eyes tightened. “Or is there some reason you prefer being alone with Donovan’s grandmother without any witnesses?”

Behind Cassie, Rose gasped.

On a gray chair in the corner, the air moved. An outline of a man formed.
 

“Olivia!” Rose moved to stand next to Cassie. “That’s rude and uncalled for.”

“Grandma, Donovan and I just don’t want you taken advantage of.”

“First, just because I’m eighty-five doesn’t mean I’ve become gullible. Second, I’m not your grandma.”

“I’ve offended you.” Her expression hurt, Olivia gazed down at Rose. “I don’t mean you any harm or disrespect. I...we...just want to protect you.”

“When I need protection, I’ll ask for it. You’ve insulted my guest, and now you’ve insulted me.”

“Donovan.” Olivia twisted around, leaning toward him, putting her hands out. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“We should leave.”

A muscle in Olivia’s cheek twitched. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy. You agreed we should be here.”

“You kept talking until I said yes.”

“Now you’re talking as if I’m being...being...”

“A bitch.” Cassie smiled, happy to help.

This was taking an interesting turn. When she got back to the hotel, she was going to have a lot to tell Luke.

“Not a bitch,” Donovan said quickly.