“Violet, yes.”
She ignored my correction. “Because a ghost can’t give you purple—excuse me, violet—hair every week so that yours keeps growing.”
“Of course not. Ghosts are only allowed to give five gifts.”
“Right, buttercup. So if a ghost could change that about you, what else could be changed? Could something be shifted so that you and your love can be together?”
My hands trembled at what she was implying. I didn’t want to hope because sometimes hope hurt. Sometimes it caused crevices to grow in my heart, crevices that had to then be bulldozed over with hard truth.
“I don’t know, can something be shifted?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“I believe the possibility exists.”
I dared to stare at her. “But how?”
Francine gestured toward the room. “You’re doing something big for me, remember? Getting me back into the cemetery. It’s what I wanted all along. So maybe I can do something for you. Something extra to help out. Oh, I know I’m helping with this whole murder thing, but really that hasn’t panned out too much.”
“You helped me stop a ghost revolution,” I countered.
“That’s true, but if there’s another way I can help you, I will gladly do it.”
A wobbly smile graced my lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Francine rose from the couch and drifted over. She stroked my chin. A buzz of energy charged over my face. “Now, darling. Is there anything I can do for you tonight?”
“Not that I can think of. I’ll have a new plan for tomorrow, I’m sure.”
Francine clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Take your time and think. I’ll be around.”
As soon as Francine left, I got a text. Hoping it was Roan, I rushed to my phone and picked it up.
We’re in position. It was Ruth. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine o’clock. Gosh. Where had this day gone?
Okay,I replied.
Time to get ready. If Ruth or Alice caught whoever was lurking around, I wanted to be ready to fight. You never knew what sort of defense someone would put up.
I slipped on a pair of sneakers, brushed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail.
My phone pinged again.
Do you think texting counts as dating? Because I’m willing to text-date, if I have to.
It was Roan. I laughed.
I think text-dating is a real thing. Let’s just pretend we’re a thousand miles apart and this is the only way we can communicate.
You make it seem like one of us is on a desert island,he typed.
It feels that way.I didn’t type it, but it was true. I was wallowing in my sorrow and about to throw myself the pity party to end all pity parties when a scream came from outside.
“Alice!”
I threw open the front door. The screen banged into the side of the house. I rushed down the steps, taking them two at a time. When I reached the bottom, I whirled into a crouch.
Years of ghost team training had taught me to be careful, ready for any situation.
“Alice,” I yelled.
