Page 27 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
There’s no such thing as coincidence. Only magic in disguise.
I looked down at the counter, the front of it cluttered, but still somehow organized, thanks to Ida. A small jewelry display sat proudly off to the side, patrons often swiping something from it to add to their purchases with a small grin. A chipped mug I had nearly broken years ago sat in its usual spot, pens and crystal points spilling out of it.
“You know,” Ida murmured, breaking through my thoughts, “you could look into an online booking system as well. For readings.”
“Yes, I was thinking about that,” I said, rubbing my temple as I felt a headache beginning to build.
I pulled my iPad toward me and flipped open the screen protector, yawning as I entered my PIN. The Yelp review page stared back at me, further souring my mood.
“Look,” I muttered grimly to Ida, turning the screen so she could see.
Margaret’s used to be a magical place. I used to hear from my dead mother there. Now the girl working there doesn’t do contact with spirits. So disappointed.
“I apologized and everything,” I said with a heavy sigh, remembering the grim-faced woman who had stood at the counter, yelling that she’d driven three hours for her annualcheck-in. “I offered to do her cards. She lost it and left. Also, I saidyouwould be back the following day. It’s not my fault I’m not a medium.”
Ida tsked under her breath. “Margaret would’ve hexed the bitch,” she said knowingly, then tapped her lip. “Gently, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed, cracking a small smile as I navigated away from Yelp. “I just don’t want to pretend, you know? But I also don’t want any more one-star reviews. Margaret never had a one-star review. Ever.”
“Dear, if I had a dollar for every time someone came in here asking your grandmother to conjure their dead pigeon, I could’ve bought all those crystals in the window.”
I groaned and rubbed my face.
“She bent the truth every now and then, you know,” Ida said in a lower voice. “Like with the dead pets. Some people just needed closure, and she gave it to them. She just didn’t take their money when it wasn’t real.”
“I’m a bad liar, Ida,” I said with a sigh.
“Hmm,” she murmured, picking up a pile of silk scarves and beginning to fold them. “You positive you don’t have the gift? Maybe it’s just dormant. You need a good haunting to wake it up. Go sit in a cemetery on a full moon.”
“Hard pass,” I said firmly, flipping open my design app to continue working on my deck of cards.
Ida chuckled lowly before waving a hand. “It can be infuriating connecting with the spirits sometimes. My god damn ex-husband tries to haunt me from beyond. Either way, I ignored him when he was alive, and I’ll ignore him now.”
I raised an interested brow. “You connect with your dead husband?”
“When I’m doing the laundry,” she said, her expression serious as she paused folding the scarves. “It tracks, really. Thebastard never helped me with it when he was alive, of course he watches me do it when he’s dead.”
I snorted a laugh, gently moving my stylus across the screen. “You might have a tumor, Ida.”
“I very well could,” she said with a grin, entirely unbothered as she went back to folding scarves. “Either I have a gift, or a curse, for seeing my dead husband, or I have six months to live. Let’s roll the dice on it.”
I laughed just as my iPad dinged, a notification flag popping up with a new email from my mother. My stylus stilled mid-stroke before I tapped into it, breath held.
From:Georgia Marley
Subject:Ashes
The ashes have been picked up by your uncle—he has them at his house. I suggest you go over and apologize at some point for the scene you caused.
Mom
I read the message at least three times, each one landing like a punch straight to the stomach.
“You all right?” Ida asked, now boxing up the scarves for a large order. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, which should make you happy, considering your current predicament.”
I handed her the iPad with a shake of my head. “My mother emailed. My uncle picked up Margaret’s ashes. Now she’s tellingmeto apologize.”
Ida’s face darkened as she set the device down. “For what exactly, hmm? For reminding that moron that Margaret wanted to be fireworks over the Pacific, not a dust bunny in some dark cabinet?”
