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“We can at least honor his existence,” I said, warming to the idea.
“Why don’t you ask Bruce what he wants?” Nana Pratt asked.
“Because the ghost thing is a ruse, remember? Bruce’s spirit isn’t really there.”
“Why isn’t it?” the elderly ghost asked.
It was a good question. “I don’t know. Sometimes the timing is off.”
“Did you see Solomon’s ghost?” Ray asked.
“No, but everything happened in a rush.” With Bruce, I was there when he died as well as a few times since then, but no dragon shifter ghost.
“Lorelei, is this really about Bruce Huang?” Ray asked in a kindly voice.
I looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you worried that no one would host your funeral when you die? Or celebrate your life?”
I perched on a headstone. “I didn’t until now. Gee, thanks.”
“Maybe deep down, that’s why you’re preoccupied with Bruce,” Ray offered.
“I’m preoccupied with Bruce because I watched him die. It’s hard to shake off.”
“You saw those Bridger witches die,” Nana Pratt pointed out. “You didn’t seem as obsessed then.”
I bristled at the memory of the witches being attacked by the very monster they’d summoned. “I am not obsessed. Why is it such a bad idea to host the poor man’s funeral?”
“Would you have it here?” Nana Pratt asked in surprise. “That would require visitors. You’d have to serve them food and drinks. And act hospitable.”
“I can be hospitable.”
“That doesn’t mean send someone to the hospital,” Nana Pratt said.
I glowered at the elderly ghost. “I know what it means.” There was, however, the small matter of The Corporation. If by some small chance they sent a representative to the funeral, they’d end up in my house.
No. I couldn’t risk it.
I pulled out my phone.
“Who are you texting?” Nana Pratt asked.
“I’m going to ask someone who knows far more about throwing a party than I ever could.”
Nana Pratt wrung her hands in despair. “Ray, can you take her phone? My skills aren’t that adept yet.”
I balanced the phone on the headstone and looked at her. “You think it’s a bad idea?”
“I think you’re courting danger for the wrong reasons,” she advised.
“Are there right reasons?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. When you put yourself in harm’s way to rescue my Ashley, you courted danger for the right reasons.”
“I think this might be guilt,” Ray chimed in.
I clicked my fingernails on the stone, considering their arguments. “Fine, no funeral.” I tapped the phone to send a message.
