“Yes. That’s it exactly.” He stood waiting.
She could feel the anticipation radiating off him. And although she wasn’t lying because she really didn’t have time to do the work necessary to finish this man’s book, the promise of justice—for her and for the Mudd family—was too great to pass up.
“All right,” she said on an exhale.
“Excellent.” He flashed yellow teeth and a sinister smile and she had to wonder how much she was going to regret this.
Chapter Eleven
Natalie was afraid she might have broken her friend’s brain.
It was very possible Harper had never been speechless before in her life. But now, after Natalie had recapped recent events, rather precisely she thought considering how much had happened in a mere day, Harper sat before her, mouth agape, just staring.
“Can I, uh, get you something? Tea? Wine?”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
“Possibly both, but let’s start with wine. So let me get this straight. Lionel Graves. Is here. And dead. And he wants you to finish writing his book and get it published.”
“That about covers it. Yes.” Natalie nodded, moving toward the kitchen counter and the wine bottle and glasses.
“But you’re not a writer.”
After the shocking reveal that the man they’d hated since Salem was now a ghost living in Liam’s lab, that was the thing that Harper chose to focus on? That Natalie, who wasn’t a writer, was finishing his book.
She set a very full glass of red wine in front of Harper to smooth things over before saying, “I know. I definitely am not a writer. I don’t even like writing emails, never mind a whole book. But it’s nearly done. He’s talking me through finishing it.” And boy was he fully enjoying ordering her around and telling her what to do.
“Why didn’t he ask me?” Harper asked, clearly insulted by the slight. “I’m published. I know this business like the back of my hand.”
And there it was. The reason Harper’s frown was comically deep. Professional jealousy.
“Harper, he doesn’t even know you. So how could he know to ask you? I’m the one he met on the panel. I’m the one he publicly fought with on Facebook.”
“You could recommend me to him,” Harper said with hope in her voice and doe eyes. This probably worked on Stone to get her whatever she wanted, but the expression only made Natalie laugh.
“Harper, trust me, you don’t want this job. And believe me, if I could pass this project on to you I would. In a heartbeat. But even with all your writing and publishing experience, I have one advantage you don’t. And I’m afraid it’s a dealbreaker.”
“You can hear him and I can’t,” Harper supplied with a resignation-filled nod.
“Correct.” And how Natalie wished it weren’t the case.
If everyone could hear all the ghosts, how much less of a burden would rest on her shoulders. Mudville would likely be far more chaotic, but her life would be easier.
Of course, widespread ghost communications could result in village-wide panic. The notoriously over-zealous Planning Board would have a field day establishing new ordinances as part of the Village Code to regulate the ghost community. It would be a nightmare…
Natalie’s imaginings were interrupted by Harper pouting deeply as she stared into her wine glass across the table.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie said.
“I know.” Harper took a big swallow of wine and, visibly pulling herself out of her funk, asked, “So what have you done so far? How far along is the project?”
“Well, I’ve logged into his files online. And there are a lot of files. He’s got a ton of research, which was a surprise?—”
“Since his Mudville research was shoddy at best,” Harper added.
“Exactly. And he’s got a completed first draft of the new book, so now we’re in the process of searching through the research to fact check the manuscript. But it’s all a bit of a mess. There’s been a lot of rewriting. He kind of writes like he talks.”
