Mean Ghosts by Danielle Garrett

Author:Danielle Garrett [Garrett, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roots & Wings Press
Published: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Brock Billings lived in one of the newer condo buildings on the outskirts of town. Developers had trouble getting permits to build near the heart of Beechwood Harbor, as there were yards of red tape to cut through and a historical society to appease, so most took the path of least resistance and built further out, in the hills. The condos served as a mix of vacation rentals and second homes, in addition to being the full-time residence for various retirees, families, and young professionals who worked along the coast.

It appeared Brock was of the latter, as the man who opened the door to accept my flower delivery looked to be in his late thirties, with full black hair that looked a little too long and storm-cloud eyes. His fashionable thin-framed glasses didn’t fully conceal the creases at the corners of his eyes or the bags beneath them. His lanky frame was encased in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black hoodie sweatshirt, making it hard to tell if he’d just woken up, was headed to bed, or had recently returned from the gym.

“Good evening,” I said brightly. “Are you Brock Billings?”

The young man raked his hand through his hair. “Yes.”

“Ah, good. Then these—” I extended the vase, “—are for you.”

“From who?”

“Actually, they’re from me. I’m Scarlet Sanderson, and I run Lily Pond, the local flower shop. I heard about your business venture and wanted to offer my congratulations.”

Brock’s dark brows lifted as a mix of emotions played across his face, chief among them, confusion. “That’s … generous of you.”

“See, Scar, I told you he’d think you were a crazy person,” Flapjack sighed, the only ghost accompanying me on my errand. And my self-declared voice of reason.

“Well, you know, in a small town like this, a rising tide lifts all boats. So, from one small business owner to another, I just wanted to offer my support.”

Suspicion glinted in Brock’s eyes as they narrowed slightly. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.” Shifting the bouquet to one hand, he used the other to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Look, I appreciate the flowers, but you’ll have to fill out a vendor application the same as everyone else. I can’t make any exceptions.”

Flapjack realized the implication of Brock’s reply before I did and began wheezing from his place on the welcome mat. “Imagine, Scar! We could clear all those lacey doily thingies and put in a bunch of fishing lures instead!”

“Wait, what? Oh, no no. I don’t want to sell fishing gear,” I interjected, shaking my head a little too hard as Flapjack continued cackling at my feet.

“Maybe you can get some duck calls and those rubber overalls too, make a whole display out of it!” he hooted.

Wordlessly, I nudged my foot in his direction, channeling a bit of magic just to have my toes push him in the rear. The sudden contact jolted the specter, and he ceased his mocking for at least a little while.

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