She floated with him as he finished his drink, his beautiful eyes never leaving the sea.
He’d found that piece of land for them, paid a fortune for it and carved a house out of a cleft in the cliff.
Fiona hadn’t wanted to be out of the village even though it was only a ten minute drive away. But Prentice wanted privacy and space for his family.
And he needed the sea.
So she had no choice, really.
He put the glass on the railing which irritated her.
He always did that when he was out on the balcony brooding which wasn’t often but it happened.
Prentice could be moody, mostly about work stuff and lately about having a dead wife stuff.
She’d find his whisky glasses, sometimes days or even weeks later and they’d be filled with rainwater and mucky. It was ridiculous. Why couldn’t the man carry his glass inside?
He walked into the room, pulled off his sweatshirt and got into bed.
She knew the minute he fell asleep which was a long time after he lay down.
Then she hovered by his alarm clock poking the “off” button again and again, her finger going through each time.
It was late. He’d had the episode with Jason, he’d found his daughter had not gone to his bed for safe haven but she’d been cuddled with his ex and he’d brooded and brooding had to take a lot out of him since he did it so damned well.
The kids were out of school the next day so they could attend Annie and Dougal’s picnic, he didn’t have to get up early.
And he needed his sleep.
Fiona poked and poked and poked and then, when she lost her temper and gave it one final poke, the button depressed, the light indicating that the alarm was on went out and Fiona smiled a gleeful, triumphant smile.
Then she laughed a gleeful, triumphant (but silent) laugh.
Then she laid a ghostly kiss on her husband’s cheek which caused him to turn with agitation in bed which was what he always did which was so very not what he’d do when she’d kissed him while he was sleeping when she was alive, so she wondered why she did it while she was dead.
Then she went to her son’s room and hovered beside him while he slept.
Chapter Five
The Picnic
Prentice
Prentice opened his eyes to see the late September sun shining through the windows that made up one wall of his bedroom.
He stared through the windows.
Then his eyes cut to the alarm clock.
He leaned toward the clock; saw the alarm which was never turned off had, somehow, been turned off.
He’d slept in.
“Shit,” he muttered, throwing back the covers and knifing out of bed.
He needed to get the children up, fed, showered, dressed and he needed to get some work done before the picnic.
Not to mention he needed to do laundry or the children wouldn’t have any clothes to wear to the picnic.