A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,20

now, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Awesome,” I muttered, glancing up at all my squatters who were waiting patiently for me to do a little surgery. “I’ve got some dead people to repair.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Candy said, getting out of the car and hightailing it into the house.

I was sure she was going to hide from Gram.

“Gram,” I said, turning around to talk to her. “You can’t be too hard on Candy.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” Gram said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “She loves it. No one has given a rat’s butt about that girl in a very long time. She might bitch and moan, but it makes her feel special.”

I grinned. “It’s special to have you riding her ass?”

“Darn tootin’,” Gram said with a laugh as she flew right through the roof of the car and went to find her new project.

“Good luck to Gram with that one,” Heather said as she clapped her hands and an enormous box appeared on the porch.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Superglue,” she informed me. “You’re gonna need it.”

Chapter Seven

The day dawned bright, sunny and chilly. My squatters were all repaired and a relative state of normalcy had settled back in. As of yesterday, Birdie’s head was glued squarely back on her neck. She was thrilled to have her hands free to flip me off.

I’d slept like the dead after the Mow Down Candy Vargo fiasco and the subsequent Let’s Plow Heather’s Car into Daisy’s House test—not to mention it took me five hours to glue all my dead guests back together. I was no closer to the answer as to whether I was becoming Immortal or not, but I was now sure I could defend myself and save anyone’s life if the occasion arose… or at the very least glue them back together.

Here’s to seriously hoping an occasion doesn’t arise.

So, for lack of something better to do, I decided to do something stupid…

“Do you want me to vacuum the living room?” Heather called out.

“That would be awesome,” I answered, putting the flower arrangement I’d had delivered on the kitchen table and sucking in a deep breath to calm my nerves.

I’d invited my friends over for lunch and was adding Tim and Candy to the mix. Socializing Tim had been my plan for a while. Candy was the wild card. Gram had insisted Candy was ready and desperately needed some friends. Gram was very aware that I was a sucker for the underdog—even if the underdog had hideous manners and could kill people with the flick of her finger. She’d sworn she made Candy incinerate all of her toothpicks. The inferno in the backyard firepit was the proof.

Living on the edge was my new way of life. There was a fine chance it would burn me like Candy had burned her bad habit in my yard.

“Everyone will be here in a half hour and June’s bringing cookies,” Heather said, wrapping the cord around the vacuum cleaner and putting it back in the hallway closet.

“This is a very bad idea except for the cookies,” I said, pulling out plates, napkins and silverware. “I’m going to get busted for lying about my fictional getaway with Gideon. I’ll have no friends left by tonight.”

“I’ll always be your friend, and you’re not going to lie,” Heather replied.

“No way, you crazy old freak!” Candy Vargo shouted as she sprinted through the house with Gram on her ass.

Donna and Karen thought it was a fabulous game and chased them while barking with joy.

“What’s going on there?” Heather asked, raising her brow.

Putting the plates on the kitchen table, I sat on a chair and let my head drop to the wooden table with a thud. “Gram is making Candy wear a dress to the get together this afternoon. Told her if she didn’t, she’d move herself into Candy’s house and make her life a living Hell.”

“Harsh yet creative,” Heather said with a laugh. “I can’t believe she convinced her to get a haircut. Candy’s actually attractive minus the unruly mop. First time I’ve seen her eyes in a few centuries.”

“Gram didn’t convince her to get a haircut, she blackmailed her,” I explained with a grin.

“Shut the front door. How does a ghost blackmail the Keeper of Fate?”

“No clue and never want to know,” I replied, tracing the grain of the wood in the table with my finger. “Gideon called.”

“And?”

“And they haven’t found Clarissa yet. They think they’ve been close, but she’s two steps ahead of them,” I told her.