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He nodded with a slight eye roll, as though annoyed with his current state of being, and replied, “A ghost.”
And in the next moment, he disappeared from her sight.
Anything can appear differently in the cold light of day. Nightclubs, for instance. They’re pretty cool plunged in darkness, where a potential romantic paramour will seem a true good looker with nothing but neon lights to recommend them.
But the following morning? Yikes.
After a mild freak out and hiding under her covers until her eyes burned with fatigue, Willow got exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes rest, waking up groggy in the way that one does when they don’t remember where they are or what day of the week it is. How they hang on to sleep when the veil between dreaming and waking is as thin as spider silk. How they cling to the memory of that dream, willing it to last longer for the beautiful, strange feeling of it.
Willow liked the strange feeling of dreams—that lucid state of awareness where she could be someone else. It was much like getting lost in a book.
But whatever she dreamed the night before was something she’d rather forget. And as the window’s daylight washed across her face and awareness dawned on her, she began to question if she’d dreamt it at all. Did she really encounter a ghost last night?
Zephyr tapped relentlessly at her arm demanding breakfast, and Willow realized in a panic she’d missed her alarm, leaving seven minutes before opening the bookshop. Rushing to brush her teeth, toss on some jeans, and feed the cat left her no time to even think about whether her shop was actually haunted or not. In fact, dashing downstairs to prep the store with only a couple minutes to spare, she’d almost forgotten about it. That is until a resonant male voice startled her to such an extreme, her heart almost stopped.
“Miss Ravensong?”
With a terrified shriek she almost jumped high enough to hit the ceiling. When she turned toward the voice, there stood Montgomery Harland, looking very much the same as before—with that same old-fashioned vest and that ridiculous mustache. What really irked her was that he didn’t even look like a ghost at all. He looked… well, very much like a man who’d been present all night while she slept… and that thought aroused her more than it unnerved her. She cursed inwardly, blaming her stupid non-existent dating life for letting her imagination go there.
Clutching her chest, Willow snapped, “Are you trying to kill me?”
“And run the risk of being stuck with you for all eternity? I think not.”
“Hmmm. Even your snark wasn’t a figment of my imagination.”
“Nor was the sticky tomato atrocity on the kitchen floor.”
Right. Willow had forgotten about that—what, with the ghost thing and all.
“Why are you still here?” she questioned, not wanting to think about the Bloody Mary mess on the kitchen floor. “Didn’t you dip out last night? You scared the bejeezus out of me, made the announcement ‘I’m a ghost’, and then poof. Gone.”
“I have no control over how or when I enter consciousness,” he said. “Maybe it’s triggered by vexatious red-haired women.”
Willow snorted. “Vexatious. You need to spend less time in the thesaurus section.”
Montgomery raised his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head. “Nevertheless, I’ll have you know that I’ve taken care of the spill in the kitchen, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from causing more mayhem.” He inclined his head toward the front entrance where there was a man waiting outside. “Now… I believe you have a customer. I’ll just be sitting over there.”
In a panic, Willow said, “I won’t let you stick around and haunt my customers. You need to go.”
“Nobody can see or hear me but you. And also, your cat.” He flicked his hand at the door. “You better open up shop before he takes his business elsewhere.”
With that, he slipped a book off the shelf and made himself comfortable in the same wingback chair he sat in on opening day.
Infuriated, but out of arguments, Willow hurried over to unlock the door and flip over the sign to display the‘Come in we’re an open book’side.
She plastered on a cheery smile and greeted the customer, all the while keeping a side eye on the ghost in the corner. The skin on her palms was relentlessly clammy the whole while she was helping the customer find what he was looking for, and at one point, she had to think hard to remember if she’d used deodorant this morning.
After the man left with his purchase, Willow doubled over by the cash register, breathing heavily.
“There’s a ghost in my shop. There’s a ghost in my shop. I’m freaking out. There’s a ghost in my shop.”
“You need not cause yourself anxiety,” Montgomery said casually flipping the page of his book. “I told you they can’t see me. And I don’t plan on spooking them if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Willow’s head shot up with an idea. “I’ll call my mom. She’ll know what to do.”
She dialed the phone with shaking fingers, but Esme didn’t pick up, so she texted in all caps.
Willow: CALL ME
