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CHAPTERONE
Icouldn’t believe my eyes. I turned to one side, then to the other, shaking my head. I’d never felt so beautiful in my life as I did now.
“Do you like it?” Mandy asked. She had a cat-who-ate-the-canary look on her face.
“Like it? Iloveit. If I didn’t love Killian so damned much, I’d marry the dress,” I said.
Mandy was head of the local Renaissance Faire Society, and she was also a brilliant seamstress. I’d been at my wit’s end, trying to find the right wedding dress, when my grandmother, Rowan, suggested that I ask Mandy if she could make me something.
With less than a month to go, Mandy had done the impossible. She had created a dress that I never dreamed I could find. And today was the last fitting. Tears in my eyes—joyful ones—I stared at my reflection.
The dress wasn’t a ren-faire dress, but Mandy’s sewing skills had birthed the perfect dress. It wasn’t what I had thought I’d want, let alone love, but it met every box on the list.
With a sweetheart neckline, the strapless corset bodice fitted snugly to my waist, then flared out in pleated panels. The court train was modest—trailing about eighteen inches behind me. The dress kissed the floor with an extra inch to spare in the front.
The design was deceptively simple, but what gave it the power punch was the rich black velvet of the gown. The bodice laced up the back, and the front was dappled with white lace appliques of flowers and vines that extended in several places down the front of the skirt. The decorative design covered the left side of the dress and then circled the lower third of the skirt and train around the back in a semi-circle.
Mandy carried over the velvet capelet to match. We wanted to have the wedding outdoors if it was clear enough. But clear or not, I didn’t want to freeze my ass off standing in the snow. The capelet extended to my elbows, and I’d be wearing black opera-length fingerless gloves beaded with tiny white seed pearls. I wasn’t going to wear a veil—I didn’t like the meaning of it, for one thing, but I’d be wearing a wreath of red roses, ferns, and baby’s breath to match my bouquet. A little retro? Yes, but I loved the pairing, and that was all that mattered.
“You’ve outdone yourself. Everything fits like…well, like it was made for me. Both the dress and the capelet.” I held my hand against the material and the white gold of my engagement ring shimmered. The black velvet set off the glacial blue of the center diamond. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Everything feels comfortable?”
I nodded. “Yes. Made to order! I’m so relieved that I’m not getting married in a murder-dress.” I hadn’t realized how much the prospect had been weighing on my mind. The vintage dress I had bought in July was lovely, but the original bride had been murdered in it and her ghost had come with the dress. I had solved her murder and freed her spirit, but after I realized that the dress had been through a tragic crime, wearing it tomywedding seemed to be asking for trouble.
“If there’s nothing else, let’s get you undressed and I’ll have my assistant pack it up for you.” She removed the capelet and then unzipped the back—I’d asked her to skip all the tiny buttons and lacing and install a hidden zipper instead. While it didn’t seem as romantic, it made the dress much easier to slip on, and I wanted to be able to wear the gown again to some formal occasions, like the balls given by the Royal Order of the Wand and Sword.
I reluctantly stepped out of the dress and began to change into my street clothes as she handed the dress off to her assistant. I zipped up my knee-length circle skirt and pulled on my V-neck sweater, then sat down to put on my knee-high leather boots. When I was dressed, I came out of the changing room that was one of the bedrooms in Mandy’s house, and crossed to her desk. The dress was hanging on a rack, covered in a waterproof zipped bag that would protect it from water damage, cat fur, and almost anything else I could imagine.
I sat on the opposite side of her desk and pulled out my wallet. “I’m ready to settle up.” I’d paid half in advance, and was paying the balance today. As she took my card and ran it through her app on her phone, I glanced over in the corner. There, staring at Mandy with a loving expression, was an older woman. I caught the ghost’s eye and smiled. She gasped and hurried over to me. It was then that I noticed the resemblance between Mandy and the woman.
Please, would you tell my granddaughter that I love her? And that her mother’s sorry—so sorry about what she did?
I hesitated. I had no clue what Mandy would think if I relayed the message. If I began talking to the air, Mandy would know that either someone was around or she’d think I was nuts. But she gave me the perfect opening.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother. I heard about the plane crash and didn’t realize she was on board until last week when a friend told me.” Mandy handed me the final invoice marked “Paid.”
“Thank you. It was a shock. Nonnie was on her way to visit me.” I paused, then said, “Do you get to see your grandparents much?” I tucked the invoice in my purse.
“One of my grandmas—the one who’s still alive—lives in Texas. I haven’t seen her for a while. We aren’t that close. My other grandma died last year. She raised me after my mother killed herself.” Mandy worried her lip, her voice husky. “I miss her so much. She took care of me. She was the one who taught me how to sew.”
It was always hard to know whether to tell someone about a ghost, but I glanced over at Grandma Ghost and she gave me a gentle nod as she walked up behind Mandy and placed her hands on Mandy’s shoulders.
“I feel her with me a lot,” Mandy said. “Like…right now I’d swear she’s nearby. I know that sounds silly. Maybe it’s just that I miss her so much.” She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.
“Actually, it doesn’t sound silly at all. I’m witchblood and I specialize in ghosts, you might say. Your grandmotherisstanding right behind you and she asked me to give you a message.” I waited. If she said she didn’t want to hear it, I wouldn’t press the message.
Mandy froze, staring at me. “You canseeher? You cantalkto her?”
“I can.” Turning to the ghost, I asked, “What’s your name?”
Lanora. Tell her that I’m always happy when I see her wearing the pearls I left her.
“Mandy, your grandmother’s name is Lanora, right? She wants you to know that she’s always happy to see you wearing the pearls she left you.” I knew I was spot-on when Mandy’s hesitation broadened into a huge smile.
“That’s Nan! I always feel her near me when I wear those pearls. Can you ask her some questions for me?” She sounded so hopeful, I couldn’t say no.
“What would you like to know?”
