Kiss Me Hello (14 page)

THE BELLS JINGLED ON
the door as Sara entered The Book Beak. “Halloo!” Peekie called out from behind the espresso machine. “The usual?”

“I’m a regular then,” Sara said. “You already know what I like.”

“You were a regular before ever I saw you, my dear.”

“Ah, what a sweetie.” Sara felt completely at ease with Peekie. “By any chance have you seen my husband?” She rarely referred to Bram as her husband. She must have said it for Joss’s benefit—if he was listening from wherever he’d disappeared to.

“Bonnie commandeered Bram,” Peekie said. “She’s buying his lunch across the street, trying to enlist him in the cause.”

“The cause.”

“She hopes to bring him on board,” Peekie said. “To help convince you to sell to Gracien.”

“If Turtledove Hill is mine to sell.”

“No worries there, love,” Peekie said. “Here you go. Four shots, no foam.”

“Thanks, Peekie,” Sara said. “Listen, could I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.” Peekie led her over to the seats by front window.

“Did Aunt Amelia ever talk about Joss Montague?”
Crap.
The instant Sara said his name Joss appeared on the sofa beside Peekie. He grinned and pantomimed zipping his lip and throwing away the key.

“Not to me,” Peekie said. “She and Eleanor used to come in for a latte, and sometimes they’d talk about him.”

“Eleanor?” Sara said. “I think Aunt Amelia said that name just before she died.”

“Eleanor Norquist,” Peekie said. “She took care of Amelia’s horses.”

“I think I saw her once,” Sara said. “Norquist. Related to Bonnie?”

“Her mother.

“Small world.” Sara vaguely remembered a rough-looking woman leading a palomino to the barn, the woman who’d driven the horse trailer into the courtyard that day. Hardly a fashion plate. Nothing like Bonnie.

“Those two used to ride all over Turtledove Hill,” Peekie said, “looking for Montague’s remains. Amelia was convinced he’d died somewhere on the property, and she wanted to give him a proper burial. I told her nobody believed she had anything to do with Montague’s death, but she wouldn’t let go. She said she wanted him to find peace, but I think she hoped it would give her peace too.”

“That’s it!” Sara said. “I mean that makes sense, doesn’t it, if he died all alone somewhere.” She glanced at Joss, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“Then Eleanor died,” Peekie went on. “Nine or ten years ago. They were out riding, and a rattlesnake startled her horse. She fell and broke her neck. Amelia got rid of her horses then. She was never the same after that.”

“How awful.” What else was it Aunt Amelia had said? Something about not wanting to come back from the valley. “I think…it was as if Eleanor was on the other side,” Sara said. “She was waiting for Aunt Amelia.”

Before seeing an actual ghost, Sara would never have thought such a thing, let alone say it aloud. Again she looked for Joss’s reaction, but he was gone.

IT WAS PAST LUNCH
time, and when Sara entered The Coffee Spot it was almost empty. Spot was at the counter register with a customer. Bram and Bonnie sat across from each other over by the wall, both looking at Bram’s laptop. Bonnie pointed at the screen and touched Bram’s hand, smiling at him as if he was the cleverest guy on the planet.

Sara stopped by the booth. “How are sales?” They looked up in surprise.

“Good,” Bram said in the flat tone that always meant not good.

“I came to see Spot,” Sara said. She looked at Bonnie. “But I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” Bram said. Bonnie’s face turned pink, clashing with her lipstick.

Sara said, “You know we can’t make a decision on Turtledove Hill yet.”

“Gracien’s anxious,” Bonnie said. “He’s wanted it forever, and he thinks this is his chance. It’s a great opportunity for you and Bram.”

“I don’t think of my aunt’s legacy as an opportunity,” Sara said. She bent over and gave Bram a light kiss.
Take note, Bonnie. Turtledove Hill is mine. And so is Bram, for now.
“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” Bram tweaked her chin. “Later, babe.”

So things weren’t perfect between them at the moment, but no marriage was perfect all the time. Soon she’d be able to give Bram all the attention he needed and deserved. First she had to send Joss Montague on to a better place.

“Hey,
hermosa.
” Spot put an empty cup on the counter. “Good to see you again.”

Before he could pour, Sara waved off the coffee. “I just had four shots of espresso across the street.”

“My dastardly competition,” he said. “One day I’m going to have to do something about that woman.”

“Spot, you’re a ghost whisperer. Can you tell me how to un-whisper a ghost?”

“Why?” Spot’s eyes widened. “Did you see the ghost of Turtledove Hill?”

“Kind of.” Sara hoped he didn’t ask for details.

“Man, I’ve never seen that thing once.” He looked at Sara approvingly. “You’ve got some ghost whisperer in you.”

“Ghost screamer, more like,” she said
.
“Is it possible? You know, to de-ghostify a place?”

“Sure, there’s lots you can do. You could meditate on divine light. Visualize the light surrounding the spirit or the place where the spirit abides. Tell the spirit it’s dead. It’s time to leave the earthly plane.”

She’d already pointed out to Joss he was dead. “What if the ghost doesn’t want to go?”

“The ones that are attached to life are the hardest to placate,” Spot said.

“Placate. So it wants something.”

“A lot of people think ghosts want peace, but there’s all kinds of spirits are out there,
hermosa.
It’s not all sweetness and light. Some want revenge. Some don’t know what they want. Some want their life back. They never accept their death, and they’re doomed to walk the earth forever.”

“That’s gloomy.”

“It’s a soul-killing trap. The earthly plane is for the living.”

He’s trapped,
Aunt Amelia had said. How long had she tried to help him? “Apparently my aunt tried to find this ghost’s bones. She wanted to bury them in consecrated ground.”

“Anything’s worth a try.”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”

“If your ghost was Joss Mon—”

“Don’t say the name!” Sara looked around behind her. There was no sign of Joss in The Coffee Spot, only two touristy-looking couples on one side of the restaurant and Bonnie and Bram on the other. Bonnie had hold of Bram’s hand again.

To his credit, Bram looked a little nauseated, but there was no denying he was attracted to the glamorous real estate agent. Could he resist if she seriously went after him?

Sara had to get rid of Joss Montague’s ghost, and soon.

“If
he
has been around for a long time,” Spot continued, “he could be disconnected from his bones. Giving them a decent burial might not be enough. Best thing to do, help the ghost find its way. Visualize divine light.”

Sara slid off the stool. “Thanks, Spot. I’ll try.” She headed out of the restaurant without looking sideways. Visualizing divine light wasn’t exactly compatible with watching Bonnie flirt with Bram.

- 15 -
Issues Oriented

B
ONNIE NORQUIST GLANCED AROUND
The Coffee Spot while Bram Blakemore googled something about his novel. Lunch had gone exactly as she hoped. Last night at dinner, she suspected Bram didn’t care about Turtledove Hill, and today confirmed her suspicions. She was sure he’d dump it in a flash for the kind of money she could bring to the table.

But that alone wouldn’t seal the deal. She clicked her nails against her half-finished glass of iced tea and pondered how to bring up the subject again without sounding desperate.

These things must be done delicately.

The door to The Coffee Spot opened, and she fought to suppress a groan.
Can’t Gracien back off for ten seconds?

The guy in the doorway zoned in on her and headed for the booth. God, he’d become such a jerk, now that he was Mr. Important, vice president of Poole Haven Wines. Everybody thought Rafe Corazon was such a success. As far as she was concerned, he’d become Gracien’s biggest tool.

“Hi, Bonnie,” Rafe said, flashing the smile that used to drive her crazy—when she was fifteen and didn’t know any better. He glanced sideways at Bram and looked at her expectantly. He could be curious all he wanted. She didn’t report to him.

“Hi, Rafe,” she said. “Are you following me again?”

“Eh,
Jefecito
!
” Spot called out from the kitchen window. “Your order’s ready.”

“Be right there.” Rafe grinned at her. She didn’t feel a thing. Except irritation. “Just thought I’d say hi. The survey team is working today, and I stopped by to get them some lunch.”

He gave Bram another look but walked off to meet Spot at the register. She didn’t believe for a minute that Rafe just happened to come in for takeout. He was always running around doing Gracien’s bidding, following up on her. It pissed her off Gracien didn’t trust her to get the job done.

But Gracien Poole wasn’t the obstacle here.

Sara Lyndon was, with her romantic notion about keeping Turtledove Hill for herself. But if the wife was the problem, the husband was the solution. Bram didn’t care about owning vineyards. He was smart. He wanted the cash.

Bonnie needed this sale. It was the key to what she’d always wanted—the Turtledove Hill mansion. Well, control of it anyway. Gracien had promised. When he had his precious vineyards, he’d let her restore the house and run it as a bed and breakfast.

No more fucking real estate. She hated it. Constantly moving on to the next deal, the next client, the next house that would never meet its potential because the owners were cheap or lacked vision or were just nitwits. She was getting out of real estate and going into hospitality: Turtledove Hill Resort and Spa—the ultimate wedding destination. She’d tried to sell Amelia on the idea, but the old lady had no vision.

Gracien Poole had vision, even if he was a pest.

Bram Blakemore had vision. And was certainly no pest.

The cover of
Hot Heat
popped up on the laptop. “There it is.” She pointed at the screen. Bram moved his hand at the same time, and they accidently touched each other. A charge of desire raced through her, the desire she’d been trying to ignore since the moment she first saw him. Was it only last night?

So not fair. So. Not. Fair.

Why did she have to finally meet the man of her dreams when he was taken—and by someone who didn’t even care for him? They’d connected instantly. He felt it too; she was sure of it. Now their hands were so close, almost touching.

“How are sales?” said an irritatingly cheerful voice. Speak of the devil-woman. Sara Lyndon was standing at the booth. When did she sneak in?

“Good,” Bram said pleasantly. He was so nice to her, and she practically ignored him.

“I came to see Spot,” she said. “But I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” Bram said.

Bonnie tried to think of something to say, but Sara went on. “You know we can’t make a decision on Turtledove Hill yet.”

“Gracien’s anxious.” Bonnie relaxed. “He’s wanted it forever, and he thinks this is his chance. It’s a great opportunity for you and Bram.”

“I don’t think of my aunt’s legacy as an opportunity,” Sara said. She acted all huffy and superior and leaned over and kissed Bram like she was marking her territory. But she didn’t even sit down with them. She went off to talk to Spot.

What a bitch.

In a million years, Sara Lyndon didn’t deserve Bram Blakemore. Life wasn’t fair, and here was a perfect example. She was a little nothing. It wasn’t that she had no gratitude for her good fortune. It was that the universe had handed her every good thing—and she was oblivious to the fact.

You want a master’s degree, paid for by some old aunt you never even visit? Here!

You want a gorgeous, sexy, smart, funny—did she mention sexy—husband? Why, here!

You want a two-hundred-forty-acre estate on the California coast complete with Arts & Crafts ultimate bungalow? Oh! Here!

“Those are nice,” Bram said.

“Huh?” His voice knocked her out of her reverie, and his face came into focus. He was looking at her silk nails. “Oh. Right.”