It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,35

or lack thereof.

“Right,” I muttered as I got in and started the car. Of course, Sam would tell me he was real.

Wait. Would Sam’s body even stay in the car once it started moving? Or would I drive away and he’d be left floating in the yard? The logistics defied reason.

Right before I advised Sam to put on his seat belt, I bit down on my bottom lip. Dead people did not need seat belts. My heart raced and I felt a little tingly. What the hell was I about to do?

Break and enter. That’s what I was about to do.

“Dang it. Glasses,” I said, reaching into the glove for my extra pair. The last thing I needed when I didn’t know where I was going was to run into a mailbox or a tree.

Slipping them on, I pushed them up on my nose. The frames were old and had stretched out, which was why they were my extra pair. Squinting out of the front windshield, I tried to remember if the lenses in this pair were correct.

“I can’t see a thing,” I said, removing the glasses and cleaning them with my shirt.

Putting them on again, I groaned. They had to be the wrong prescription even though I could swear I had them changed. Although, I didn’t know why I would believe anything that I thought was accurate since I was about to begin a life of crime because a ghost wanted me to.

“Hang on, guys,” I said, quickly putting the old glasses back into the glove box and opening the car door. “I have to go get my other glasses so I can see.”

Walking up the driveway, I stopped and glanced around.

What the heck?

As I stared at the lit front porch, everything was as crisp and clear as if I was wearing my glasses. Was I wearing my contacts? It would make sense why my glasses in the car had seemed so blurry when I put them on.

Digging into my eye, I searched for a contact lens. Nope. No contacts. Odd.

“Maybe my vision changed,” I told the cadavers sitting on the porch, who nodded like they were pleased with the news. I laughed and shook my head at my appallingly absurd justification. “Apparently, when you hit your forties, stuff like that can change.” I turned and walked back to the car. “Of course, I thought everything was supposed to go to Hell in a handbasket, but maybe this is a gift. Glasses are expensive. Or maybe a brain tumor would explain it,” I muttered with an eye roll.

Getting into the car and fastening my seat belt, I looked at the dash. Everything was as clear as clear could be. Glancing out of the windshield, it was the same. I shrugged. It was a strange occurrence, but I would take it. Contacts were a pain in the butt.

“Ready?” I asked my passengers.

Both let me know the answer was yes.

With a shudder and a laugh, I pulled out of the driveway and headed for a life of illegal activity. I just hoped I wouldn’t be calling Heather to bail me out in the morning. This would be very hard to explain.

Chapter Ten

Sam’s home was lovely. It was an older modest Craftsman with a nicely landscaped yard. Thankfully, it was the last house at the end of a tree-lined street and there were no streetlights.

“Donna, you have to stay in the car,” I whispered.

My puppy curled into a little ball on the passenger seat and made herself comfortable. She’d clearly understood me. Deciding to give up on questioning why, I simply smiled and was grateful. Donna had been amazing with helping me navigate Sam’s gibberish. If I’d known where I was going, it would have taken twenty minutes. Since I was being given directions from a dead man and a dog, it took an hour and a half. Whatever. We were here and had at least an hour before sunrise.

“I’m going to park a few houses down and we’ll walk,” I told Sam, who grunted his assent. “If we get busted on the street, I’ll pretend like we’re just out for an early morning run… or that I’m out for a run,” I corrected myself with an eye roll. “Don’t think anyone will notice you, Sam. No offense.”

Sam giggled… kind of. His frail little frame trembled with excitement. I felt insanely great with all the stress on the word insane. It was crazy what I was about to do, but it was