It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,99
to feel included. Shit.
“Hey Heather,” I said, standing quickly and crossing the room.
“I’ve missed you, Heather,” Steve muttered sadly.
“I’ve missed you too,” Heather said, giving me a quick hug.
“What?” I asked, alarmed.
“What do you mean what?” she replied.
“What did you just say?”
“I said I missed you,” she said, looking at me strangely.
“You said you missed me?” I choked out.
“I did. Common Southern manners dictate telling someone you miss them when they tell you that they missed you,” she said, glancing over at Gideon with extreme curiosity and then back at me.
Was it possible that Heather couldn’t see the ghosts, but she could hear them? Was it possible that I had said I missed her? I would swear on my life that Steve had said it. Or was it completely possible that I wasn’t as sane as I’d hoped?
“Good to see you, Heather,” Gideon said, standing up and joining me.
“Interesting to see you,” she replied, trying to gauge what was happening here.
I was still too stunned to speak. Steve floated over and hovered at my side. He was smiling at Heather. It looked macabre, but I could feel him vibrating with excitement at seeing his old friend.
“Cut the act,” Gideon said flatly.
“Screw off,” Heather replied rudely. “What kind of game are you playing?”
“No game,” Gideon said, leveling Heather with a gaze that reminded me how powerful and intimidating he could be.
However, Heather wasn’t intimidated in the least.
“Daisy, the girls are right behind me,” Heather said, looking straight at Steve and putting her hand on her heart. “You might want to pretend that you set this up for all of us to tell us whatever you want to tell us about Gideon being here.”
“You can see them?” I squeaked out, feeling faint. If Heather could see them, she was someone entirely different than who I thought she was.
“She can see them,” Gideon confirmed.
Heather nodded curtly and walked right over to John. As she passed Steve, she gently touched his face. “John, I’m going to destroy your wife. I promise you. She will rot in a jail cell for the rest of her miserable life and no one will think you committed suicide.”
“How?” I gasped out.
Heather turned to me and smiled. “I received a video of the murder… John’s housekeeper found it in a chair in his home and brought it to me.”
I had no clue how she’d worked that out, but Heather was far more powerful than I’d thought. She was brilliant.
“His housekeeper?” I choked out.
“We happen to share the same housekeeper,” Heather replied. “She’s a very loyal woman.”
“Yausssss,” John said with a smile. “Thauuuunk yooooah.”
“You’re most welcome,” she said. “Daisy, did you change the will?”
“I did,” I said, still feeling like I might pass out. What the hell was happening? I didn’t know why it was so hard to accept that Heather wasn’t who I thought she was when I’d accepted that my dead husband had come back and that I was falling for the Grim Reaper.
“I’m going to need it. Now that I’m leaving the firm, I need to get the file back there before they realize it’s missing.”
Nodding because if I spoke I might scream, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the file. I handed it to Heather who took it and put it in her bag.
Oh. My. God. Heather was the Angel of Mercy.
This was the best news ever. It now made sense why she and Gideon were at odds and why they seemed so familiar with each other. It would be a little awkward at first, since Gideon and I were seeing each other, but I knew in my heart that I’d be able to convince Heather he was a good person.
My relief was palpable.
“Why is everyone coming over here?” I asked, holding on to the back of one of the chairs. Even though I was calmer, my knees were still a little wobbly.
“Because you missed Face Mask Friday at Jennifer’s last night and didn’t answer your phone when we tried to call,” she said, grabbing the Ouija board and shoving it under the couch. “Everyone is worried.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I muttered, scanning the room and looking for anything else that could be perceived as odd. It was clear. “No one else can see my squatters?”
“Your what?” Heather asked with her brows raised high.
“The ghosts,” I clarified with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s my nickname for them since they live with me.
“Rent free,” Steve added, following Heather around like a puppy.