Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2) (14 page)

But for Mary Hunt, the last two years had been an interruption of all activity, like someone hit the pause button on her life.
 

"Wow, that is good news," Holly said. "I know you were getting a bit frustrated about the sofa issue."

 
Elizabeth suppressed a shudder. For the past two years, she'd followed the same routine. She'd stop by her parents' house in the morning to bring her mother a cup of coffee and a treat from Banshee Creek Bakery, and she'd find her mom, favorite afghan in hand, settling into the sofa. Elizabeth would return in the evening with take-out pasta, or a creamy slice of icebox pie, and hide her dismay when she spied her mom still lying on the sofa.
 

Her anxiety had mounted as the days and months passed. She simply couldn't figure out how to get her mom off the stupid sofa. She'd tried shopping excursions and concerts and trips to the botanical garden, but nothing had worked. A change in medication would improve her mother's mood for a couple of days, but the effect would wear off by the time the week was out.

"No kidding. As soon as my mom's back to working full time, I'm burning that sofa. I should have done it months ago."

"I'll bring the kerosene," Holly said with a giggle. Another loud scream echoed over the phone. "And Ben will join the party."

"Great. Now all I have to do is convince Gabe to give the town a chance."

"But we don't have any big houses in town." Holly sounded puzzled. "Everything is small here."

"There's one place that could be built out."

"What are you talking..." Holly gasped. "Oh no, Elizabeth. He'll never go for that."

"It's perfect. All it needs is a little expansion."

"A little? That place is a money pit, an
intergalactic
money pit."

"And he has an intergalactic money hose. He can afford it. And think of how it'll revitalize the town."

Yes, this idea would totally work. It would be good for Gabe, it would be good for the town, and it would be good for her mom. It was perfect.

"Your mom will never go for it," Holly noted in a somber tone. "She'll kill you if you show him that house."

 
"We'll see. Liam left the plans at my office a few months ago, and I'm on my way to pick them up now."
 

 
"Well, good luck."
 

Elizabeth could have sworn she heard a whispered "you'll need it" before her friend hung up.
 

She reached Main Street and glared at the PRoVE building in its chartreuse-festooned regalia. At least the mansard-roofed mansion was fixed up and occupied. Too many businesses were boarded up, empty eyesores on an otherwise lovely road. She particularly missed the Hungry Owl diner's pimento cheese sandwiches, a local delicacy now gone forever thanks to the stupid paranormies.
 

But some businesses still remained, like Banshee Creek Bakery. She walked into the tidy brick building with the pink-and-orange awning and looked around, noting the checkerboard pattern of pink-and-orange linoleum tiles, the pink counter, and the large glass case filled with pastries and cakes. Patricia stood behind the counter in a striped apron. She was looking through some papers.

And there, on the floor, right next to the pastry case, Elizabeth spied them. Two porcelain bowls with pink-and-orange stripes—one contained milk and the other one a perfectly square scone.
 

Elizabeth stared at the dishes, awed. Patricia had color-coordinated her sacrificial offering.
 

"Hey, girlfriend," she called out. "The usual, and make it double espresso. I'm going to need the caffeine."
 

Patricia jumped, her blue eyes widening in alarm. She quickly stuffed the papers in a drawer and pasted a bright smile on her face. "Coming up," she said, hurrying toward the espresso machine. "Pick a dessert. It's on the house. You must need a pick-me-up after Gabe saved you from that huge chandelier."
 

Ah, yes, the famous Banshee Creek grapevine at work. Elizabeth started to correct her friend—after all, Gabe hadn't
saved
her—but her eyes were drawn to the papers partially hidden under the cash register. "Are you getting a new sign?"
 

"Oh, that's just a proposal..." Patricia's voice trailed off as she hurried back with Elizabeth's spiced espresso latte.

Elizabeth pulled the papers out of the drawer and gawked at the pictures. The familiar Banshee Creek Bakery sign had been digitally modified. It still bore pink and orange stripes, but a humongous cartoon ghost now smirked gleefully at her. "You're putting a ghost in your sign?"
 

Patricia winced as she put the paper cup on the counter. "It's only a sketch. You know, just to see what it looks like."

"You...you..." Elizabeth sputtered. "How could you? You...you...
Judas
." She grabbed the coffee cup so quickly that hot liquid sloshed out of the mouthpiece and burned her wrist.

"It's just a concept," Patricia said with a guilty grimace. "The handouts at the town meeting looked so cool that I wanted to see what it would look like. I know you've been rabidly anti-ghost ever since your brother's death..."

Now that was a low blow. "This has nothing to do with my brother."

Patricia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "C'mon, have a cannoli." She waved towards the glass case temptingly.

Elizabeth looked at her friend's merchandise. Meringue ghosts with black fondant eyes peered back at her. They sat next to neatly stacked licorice spiders, Frankenstein cupcakes, and...was that a candy corn cannoli?

She slammed a five-dollar bill on the counter. "Thanks for the offer," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "But as of right now, I'm on a diet. A sugar-free, goblin-free, critter-free diet."

She flounced out of the shop and hurried toward her office. Her best friend had turned traitor.
 

Unbelievable.

She tried to calm down as she walked down the street. Patricia's perfidious antics didn't matter. The Historical Preservation Committee had won. The paranormies were on the run.

By the time she reached the Hunt Realty office, her breathing had returned to normal. Like all of Banshee Creek's commercial buildings, the Hunt Realty row house complied with a draconian building code that imposed a three-story height limit and required brick facades with period moldings and vintage light fixtures. At Cole's urging, her mother had added flowerpots with brightly colored plants, but the ill-fated flora had died two years ago.
 

A tall figure was leaning against the door. A very familiar figure.

What was Gabe doing here? Was he meeting her mom? If so, he was extremely early. No suit today either, just another sports jacket with jeans that showcased Gabe's tall build and strong muscles. He looked delicious, and Elizabeth was keenly aware of her mismatched outfit and the hole in her hose.

And Gabe wasn't alone. A second Franco brother stood on the doorstep, and Elizabeth cheered up instantly. Zach Franco was a welcome surprise. Unlike his stiff brother, Zach was a cheerful, unrepentant troublemaker.

And, like Patricia, a traitor. The Franco pizzeria was yet to reopen, but Elizabeth had heard some disturbing rumors regarding Zach's décor choices. Zach's turncoat ways, however, didn't inspire the same sense of betrayal as Patricia's. Zach's moral alignment was strictly, as the Dungeon & Dragons crowd would put it, "chaotic neutral."

She approached the office and waved a greeting. "Hey, Judas," she said, smiling broadly. She couldn't help it that she adored Gabe's brother. Zach Franco was impossible to resist. "Are you babysitting today?"
 

"Traitor?" Zach hugged her, a bit too tightly. "What did I do to deserve that? I'm as pure as the driven snow."

"Ha," she replied. "Driven by a Mack truck maybe."

She tried to step back, but his arm still hung around her waist. That was weird. In spite of his undeniable charms, there were no sparks between them. So why was he acting so grabby? She noticed Gabe scowling at them but paid no mind. Gabe frowned at everything.

"It's so great to see you, Elizabeth." Zach's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I thought my ogre brother had chased you off."
 

"I'm just helping my mom. This is her first day back at work."
 

Damn, he was a good-looking guy, with his blue eyes and rakish smile. Why couldn't she be attracted to the playful Franco brother? Although playful didn't quite describe Gabe's younger sibling. According to the grapevine, Zach Franco had very special talents and wasn't shy about sharing them.
 

"What are you doing here, you miscreant?" she asked, trying to shrug out of his embrace.

It didn't work. What was it with Octopus Zach? If he kept this up, he was going to get a sharp stiletto in his instep. Her boots weren't very practical for walking, but they were excellent for self-defense.

"Babysitting is the right word. Mom's afraid your brother will run off to Manhattan without completing his task. I'm here to make sure he goes through with it."

"I don't need a keeper," Gabe said, a trace of annoyance in his voice.
 

"You sure do," Zach interjected. "Look at what you did to your hair when I wasn't around. How much did that haircut cost? Did you go to Paris? You can tell us. We won't spread it."
 

Elizabeth smiled. Zach's mutant power was to make fun of Gabe. She could watch this all day.

"We can't all cut our own hair with kitchen knives," Gabe said with a meaningful glance at his brother's shaggy locks. "That takes special talent."
 

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "The Paris haircut does look good."
 

She would die before she admitted it out loud, but the body under said shirt and jeans also looked good. Apparently, Gabe found plenty of time to work out between IPOs.

Zach kept his arm around her shoulders and winced. "Except for the jeans, right?"
 

She didn't reply. The jeans looked pretty good. Or at least they made Gabe's butt look pretty good. She bit her lip to keep from saying it. Gabe's ego didn't need reinforcement.

Gabe smiled at his brother, but it seemed forced. Maybe he didn't like to be teased? Well, if so, he'd certainly come to the wrong place.
 

"These are great jeans," he said, a slight edge to his voice.
 

"They are
designer
jeans, big brother. No one needs designer jeans. The very concept of designer jeans is offensive. Levi's should be good enough for everyone, but it seems your personal stylist disagrees." His voice dripped with sarcasm, which was unusual. Zach's default personality was charm and innuendo.
 

Time to defuse the situation. "You have a personal stylist?" she asked Gabe

"He absolutely does." Zach smirked. "She picks out everything for him. C'mon, big bro, tell us that she didn't pick those jeans."

Gabe shrugged. He seemed a bit uncomfortable. "I hate shopping."

"And then there's the car." Zach's arm tightened around her shoulders and he leaned in, a bit too closely, to whisper in her ear. "She even picked the car."
 

Gabe glared at his brother. "That's enough." His voice was flat and cold.
 

"But she got the car its own air-conditioned Manhattan garage. Can you believe that?" Zach's arm was still wrapped around Elizabeth's shoulders. She was about to shrug out of the embrace, but Gabe was faster. He stepped forward, grabbed his brother's wrist and, in a quick judo-like move, twisted it behind Zach's back, pushing him away from her. Zach winced in pain.
 

"I said enough." Gabe's eyes were black.
 

He let go of Zach's arm, and the younger Franco stepped away, grimacing. Or was he? He almost seemed to be smiling.

"I believe you have places to go to and pizza to make, little brother."

Zach rubbed his wrist and stepped onto the walkway amiably. He didn't seem upset at all. "I do indeed." He looked at Gabe's scowling face and smiled broadly. "Anyway, my work here is done. We should catch up, Elizabeth. Drop by Pepe's for lunch. I'll spot you a slice and some peach sangría." He bowed toward Elizabeth and left, whistling a jaunty tune.

She stared at his back, puzzled. What the hell had just happened? "What are you doing here, Gabe?" she asked, trying to cover up her confusion.
 

Gabe looked furious. Elizabeth could almost feel the coiled energy in him. "I'm meeting my real estate agent." He looked around the parking lot as if looking for someone.
 

But the parking lot remained empty.

"What are
you
doing here?" he asked, his voice harsh.

"I'm meeting my mom." Elizabeth was starting to get suspicious, very suspicious. Had her mom asked him to come early?
 

If so, she'd miscalculated. He looked distinctly ticked off. He stepped away from the office entrance and conspicuously waited for Elizabeth to open the door.
 

Oh yeah, he was definitely annoyed. And he didn't even know about the listing she'd found.

And she was woefully unprepared to deal with a moody Gabe. She'd dressed for comfort, and was regretting it. The mismatched outfit was warm, but it wasn't exactly attractive, and the last thing she wanted was to remind Gabe of the shy, geeky girl he'd steadfastly ignored for years.
 

She sighed. What a way to start the day.
 

Gabe stepped back as she swept past him to open the door. Her hip brushed his leg as she entered the office, and she felt him flinch. He followed her inside, seeming entirely too interested in the molding around the doorframe. That telltale flinch was...intriguing. Was she having an effect on Gabe Franco? In spite of the holey hose?

Now
that
was interesting.
 

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN