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“You don’t want to tell me?” I asked, amusement in my voice.

She turned around and put a hand on her hip. “No.”

“Are you serious?” I pointed at myself. “Have you seen me? And the pornstache videos? It can’t possibly be more embarrassing than that.”

“It is.”

I wrapped my cape around myself like a vampire and leaned on the bar between two stools to wait.

She sighed. “It’s paranormal pest control.”

I blinked at her. “Paranormal? Like… ghosts?”

“Yes. And bees. They used to do other pests, too, in the beginning, but now it’s just bees. It’s called Ghosts-Bee-Gone.”

I tried to temper my grin, but I couldn’t help it. “How the heck did they get into that?”

“My grandpa started it,” she said, going back to cleaning the table. “It’s third generation now. I think it was kind of a joke at first? He was an exterminator. A lot of times weird noises are actually vermin or bugs or a raccoon in your attic. But when he couldn’t find anything, people would joke that maybe their house was haunted, so he started offering ghost-removal services. Turned out to be a niche market.”

“Wow,” I said. “Why have I never heard of this?”

“We don’t advertise. If you need us, you’ll find us.”

“And you didn’t want to do this?”

She pushed in the chairs. “Did I want to drive the Ghostbusters ambulance to sage people’s houses? No.”

“Does it actually work?” I asked.

She shrugged. “People think it does. I think it makes them feel better. It gives them answers when there are none. But I don’t believe in ghosts. I couldn’t look people in the eye.”

“Huh. Is it really the Ghostbusters car?”

“It really is. They have two.”

I grinned. “That’s so cool.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “My dad used to pick me up from school in it. It didn’t feel cool then.”

“Do you guys do exorcisms?”

“Oh yes. But not the religious kind. Energy cleanses only.”

“Do they do séances?”

She shook her head. “No. They only get rid of spirits, they don’t summon them.”

“Huh. Can I google them?”

She let a long breath out through her nose. “I guess. But only because you let me google you.” She went back to the counter and dropped the rag in the bucket.

“Are they bummed you don’t want to work there?” I asked, sitting on one of the stools.

“They are.”

“Was it hard to tell them? That you didn’t want to do it?”

She dumped some old coffee grounds and started a new pot. “Of course. But I didn’t want to live my life doing something I didn’t like just because it’s what was expected of me.”