Page 20 of Ghostly
They had better be done, because he’d already spent 154 minutes on this. Two minutes short of the twenty-sixth increment—did the damn contract even know how much of his time he’d given it?
Of course it didn’t. It was a piece of paper. And ghostly mumbo-jumbo was making him crazy again.
“I have a feeling it’s not working.” Ida chewed her nail. “We should be halfway or even three-quarters done by now, and I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I be fading or something? Or feeling more and more detached?”
Gabriel grunted and headed to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I have to go to town tomorrow because no one will do grocery delivery around here.” Or general food delivery which was, frankly, baffling. But he’d wanted privacy, and that’s what he got. “I’ll try enlightening a few people there, and see if I can get something that can be broken and fixed without you having to tamper with it. Maybe because of your involvement, the contract thinks we’re cheating.” Again, the words coming out of his mouth! If Clifford and Ernest heard him.
“Sounds good. But for the rest of the day—”
“I need to work.” He poured the last of his Jamaica Blue—he couldn’t hope any store in town would hold that—and came back to the living room. “I have a fifty-nine-paged complaint of a clinical trial subject to get through.” Not to mention he was getting slightly annoyed over thecontract. He needed to do something that would produce a result. A victory. Ida did a good job with the other part of the research—fantastic, actually—and for a second, he was tempted to ask her to help again. But no, he’d do it. After all, wasn’t the point of all of this to keep him occupied?
“I understand.” Ida gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach up to her eyes. “But would you mind turning on the TV? It’s been so long since I’ve watched it and I’ve run out of books to haunt.”
“Sure.” He did so. “Good?”
“Oh,The Bachelorette! I had no idea that was still going!” Ida squealed and blinked out. The television started humming.
“Ah. You meant watch TV as in haunt it.” Gabriel tapped his knee awkwardly. He supposed he couldn’t turn it off now. He’d have to wait until Ida popped back out. For a few seconds, he stared at the screen, where a young man fought off crying. “Don’t embarrass yourself, buddy.” He shook his head and got to work.
Chapter 6
The same librarian was behind the desk again, wearing a different, but still yellow outfit.
“I’m returning this.” Gabriel pushed the ghostly book over the counter and watched the woman carefully as she received it, her lips pursed. He’d removed his glasses, so she’d have no reason to complain; he also hadn’t shaved today, hoping a little stubble would help disguise him during the rest of his business in town.
But more importantly, he’d cut the contract from the book, and the librarian had better not figure it out. Like a schoolboy, trying not to get called on by a teacher, Gabriel glanced around, pretending to be engrossed in a stack of books on theNew Releasesshelf while, from the corner of his eye, he kept tabs on the librarian.
She picked up the book, pursed her lips some more, then scanned it and put it aside. “Anything else?” she asked in a fed-up voice.
He really should get out, but all those books… He turned to the librarian with a practiced polite smile. “Actually, yes.”
Ten minutes later and five checks over his shoulder (to make certain no camera-armed bloodhound was following him) Gabriel was on the way to the general store when a delicious warm smell of freshly baked goods drew him to another building on the main street. A bakery, with display shelves practically giving way under all the goodness. Breadsticks, cinnamon rolls, croissants, blueberry muffins, one topped with chocolate… How long since he’d been to a proper bakery? There was the one near home when he was little, and whenever he’d get some pocket money, his first choice were the mouthwatering cookie sandwiches with creamy filling.
Well, he needed groceries. And this probably had better bread than the general store.
A little bell announced his entry. The place was empty, save for the woman at the counter, sporting a perm eerily similar to the librarian’s. Deep into a newspaper, she didn’t raise her eyes as she greeted him. “Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Can I get three breadsticks, two cinnamon…” Gabriel paused. Two cinnamon rolls? Ida couldn’t eat. “Uh, one…” Then he realized the woman was looking at him strangely.
No, not strangely at all. With the same suspicion as the librarian. “I’m sorry, but we’re all out of bread,” she said with a forced smile.
“There’s a lot right behind me. And behindyou.”
“Yes, well, but we’re closed.” She herded him to the door.
“The sign clearly says—”
She shut the door in his face.
“Open,”he finished, just as she flipped the sign with a force that reverberated through the glass.
What the hell?
Gabriel stared at the closed door like an idiot. So much for small-town hospitality.
Only 169 days left.
After it was made clear he wouldn’t be allowed into the bakery, and the woman sent him a stink eye, he headed down the street to the general store. At least here, more customers mulled about, and no one was sending suspicious glances his way—or ones of recognition, although he did keep his head down.
