I wholly encourage you to do such. Don’t let her take advantage, but wait until the dust of Bart’s death settles.”
He’d been coaching me for the past couple of days, ever since he knew my mother was coming to visit, offering skills on how to deal with emotional terrorists. I’m still not sure if it’s the same as the kind of terrorists he’s dealt with, but so far, it was kind of panning out.
So I counted to ten in my head, got my boundary ducks in a row, and said, “Mourn your husband properly, keep your mouth closed and don’t talk to anyone. Also, please don’t call the Bats disgusting. They’re an extension of Belfry, who’s one of the best friends I have in the world. That means they’re always welcome here forever. Just because you don’t want a familiar, doesn’t mean I don’t. They’ve been given strict instructions to stay out of your way, but I won’t have you insulting them. They’re my guests.”
Then I scooped up Belfry and tucked him in my purse, calling for Whiskey, who loved to ride in the car no matter where we went. “Whiskey! C’mon, buddy! Vroom-vroom!”
Those two key words had him bounding down the stairs and, from the sound of it, stumbling over his big feet on the last step before he skidded into the hallway entry. He righted himself and scurried to stand by my side as I latched his leash on his collar.
Kneeling down, I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Who’s the best boy ever?”
And that was when I noticed what he had in his mouth. A business card with bite marks on it.
Groaning, I tapped his wet nose. “Hand it over, dude, or no vroom-vroom for you.”
Bel peeked his head out of my purse, his tiny claws, clinging to the edge. “Whiskey! Dude, what have I told you about eating everything off the ground? Swear, someday you’re gonna get the clap just because you can’t resist snarfing stuff up. Spit it out!” he ordered.
Whiskey let his tongue unfurl, plopping the card into my hand. I held it up under the light coming in from the front door. It was a card from Parties by Petula, pastel pink and festively decorated with a three-tier cake with sparkling white bows.
As I flipped it over, I read a name scrawled in pencil on the back.
Bart.
Chapter 7
I looked at the business card from Petula again as I waited at the store for my eleven o’clock to arrive. A man who wanted to attempt contact with his brother who’d died last month.
The day had gone even grayer and drizzlier, but the store cheered me up. I loved what we’d done with Madam Zoltar’s. It soothed me today, with the healing crystals I so adored surrounding me, and what was left of my glued-together snow globe collection (trashed after a run-in with an angry spirit) on a shelf.
We’d added antique rocking chairs outside for those who chose to pop in and chat (spirits and people alike), and as word got out, we were beginning to grow our clientele.
“I assume we can speak freely now that we’re out of your mother’s presence?” Win asked.
I nodded, pulling my turban off to run my fingers through my hair. “Thank goddess, yes.”
“You sound exhausted and the day’s only just begun, Stevie. Didn’t sleep well last night?”
Yawning, I rolled my shoulders to ease the tension. “My mother takes the stuffing right out of me. All this keeping my feelings to myself is work, Win. I used to let off steam with sarcasm and my razor-sharp wit. If I can’t use those, she uses up all my life points,” I complained on a laugh.
Win barked a laugh of his own. “She is a great deal of work and far worse than I imagined.”
“Admit it, you thought I was exaggerating, didn’t you?”
“I’ll own that statement. Yes. I thought you exaggerated. I was wrong. But I’m proud of how you’re handling the shambles her life is right now. I realize there’s a great deal of fodder to be had, but you have on your restraint pants and you’re wearing them well. So let’s refresh, yes? Beginning
Vonda Sinclair
Laird Barron
Lynne Hinton
Rebecca King
Sheri S. Tepper
Arianne Richmonde
Jennifer Murgia
David Mack
JeanNicole Rivers
Sabrina York