away from her. It was who she was: honest to a literal fault and blunt as hell.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I mean, I didn’t want to make it, but I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
“It’s okay, Beez. I doubt he would have wanted you there anyway.” Also, she appreciated the same blunt honesty in return. Sometimes I was even good at giving it. Not usually, but sometimes. Like when I knew she wouldn’t give a damn what my father thought of her.
My father, meanwhile, rolled his eyes and scoffed aloud, then marched over to glare at the sofa, all the while muttering about wasteful sentimentality.
He hadn’t figured out how to sit down as a ghost yet.
The first time he’d tried, he’d been giving me a long-winded speech about how he expected me to continue running the shop as he had before his death, because it wasn’t really my shop, it was his. He’d turned, mid-tirade, and flopped into the couch, except instead of sitting down, he’d gone right through the thing. He’d sat there, stunned, up to his chest in couch.
I’d had to work so hard to keep from laughing I’d ended up having a coughing fit.
I still wasn’t sure how he could walk on the ground but not sit on the couch, but the image of him sitting there, half inside the couch, mouth hanging open in shock, was a gift.
“How was it?” Beez asked, reminding me of her presence. “Anyone show up?”
I glanced over to make sure he wasn’t looking and gave her a minute head shake. She quirked a brow at me, then turned to look over at the couch.
She knew I saw ghosts—that wasn’t the kind of thing you kept from your best friend. She did not, however, know that my father’s ghost had taken up residence in his shop. Ghosts were incredibly rare, so the ability didn’t come up often.
As we watched, foxy sauntered over to the couch, hopped up onto the middle cushion, and stared at my father.
“Why is there a fox in the shop?” she finally asked.
“He found me on the way home last night. Or I found him, or something like that.” I couldn’t tell Beez I’d interrupted someone kicking him. She’d want to hunt them down and kick them in an alley. More importantly, then my father would hear the story, and I didn’t want any more lectures on my wasteful sentimentality.
“He’s really clean for a wild animal,” she observed, wandering over to the couch to look down at him. He panted and stared up at her with his best liquid chocolate eyes, and I watched my best friend melt.
I followed her over and scratched his head when he leaned into me. “He’s a familiar, I think. The FRO said they hadn’t had any familiars reported missing, but he’s got to be.”
Beez took a breath as though she would say something, but when I looked up at her, she gave me a smile and shook her head. “Guess you’ve got a new roomie, then.”
“You don’t think that’s ridiculous?”
She held out her hand in front of him, and he leaned in to sniff it, then delicately licked her palm, once. She watched him speculatively but didn’t say anything for a long time. When she did, she shook her head and looked up at me, clear subject change imminent. “Seems like a good thing to me. What about the shop?”
I cocked my head, and my father turned his own head sharply, staring at her. “What about the shop?”
“Oh come on, Sage. This place so isn’t you. You need a change. At least a change from shiny bestsellers, and all thrillers and sci-fi all the time.” She waved at the enormous mystery section, and before I could point out that mysteries and thrillers were different, she went on. “You don’t even have a romance section. Fantasy. Young Adult. At least expand the shop’s repertoire.”
That was a nice thought. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the mysteries and thrillers and such. Those were our bread and butter, but my own tastes ran to the things Beez was suggesting, and she knew it. I loved the shop, and there was no doubt working with books was my ideal life. I even liked some of the customers.
“There’s not really room for anything new,” I hedged, bracing myself for an explosion from my father. It didn’t come, so I glanced over at him. He had completely dismissed her, and in fact, our