Page 14

The same couldn’t be said for Eva.

“I think you can give me some credit for common sense,” I said evenly, and Hazel looked pleased.

“That’s why you were always my favorite,” she replied. “I knew you had a good head on your shoulders, despite all this — ”

And she broke off there to tilt her head in my general direction. I assumed she was referring to the all-black pinup clothes and the Bettie bangs and the rest of it, although I was looking fairly subdued that morning. Sure, my robe, nightie, and slippers were black, but I hadn’t even stopped to put on any lipstick before I came downstairs.

“Duly noted,” I said dryly.

Hazel opened her mouth as if to reply, but a creak from the floor above us made her pause. “It seems your friend is awake,” she said. “We’ll talk later.”

She rose from her chair, stopped to look down at Chauncey, still asleep on my feet, and then wandered off to the library.

Almost as soon as Hazel was gone, Celeste came into the kitchen, her parti-colored hair falling over one eye. “Do I smell coffee?”

“You do,” I said. “Grab yourself some.”

“Bless you,” she replied, then went to fetch herself a mug.

The rest of that day was pretty normal, considering it started out with me having a conversation with my dead great-aunt about how some of the women in my family could see and talk to ghosts.

Well, as long as we were lucky enough to have a near-death experience at some point.

But Celeste and I ran out to pick up my EpiPens and get more groceries, and we walked Chauncey around the block and got some head nods from neighbors. Both of us had dressed fairly conservatively — which for me was more black from head to toe, a color choice the people on the street probably took for mourning rather than my usual mode of dress, and for Celeste was a vintage Cramps T-shirt, Chucks, and ripped jeans.

I supposed we were going to stick out like sore thumbs no matter what we did.

But at least I felt as if I was beginning to settle in. At some point, I’d need to contact one of the real estate agents who’d been hounding me for the past year to arrange the sale of the Scottsdale house, and I’d have to go back down there to get the rest of my things and see about having my car trailered up to Prescott. Maybe the mechanic who’d kept my aunt’s Cadillac alive for the past few decades could also work on the Karmann Ghia.

I knew, no matter what else happened, that I was staying in Prescott.

Chapter 4

Resident Ghost

Celeste stayed with me for the next four days. I kept telling her I was fine and that she didn’t need to stick around if she had more important things to do, but she insisted that she didn’t have to be back in Phoenix until Friday, when she had another gig.

So we hung out and explored the neighborhood some more, located the Trader Joe’s and the Total Wine and stocked up, and generally took it easy in a way I thought I could get used to. Even after my parents’ deaths, I’d kept working, kept searching local thrift stores for clothes I could either repair or upcycle, depending on their condition, kept my Etsy store puttering along. I hadn’t needed to worry about making rent, but I still felt as if I should be earning enough to feed myself and keep the lights on without dipping into the cash my parents had left me.

But I knew I couldn’t just laze around the house forever. I didn’t think anyone would blame me for taking a few days off after nearly dying, and yet Hazel’s will had stipulated that I needed to work at Copper State Cellars five days a week to keep up my end of the bargain. I’d talked to Roz, the manager, on the phone the Monday after my little visit to Yavapai Regional, and she’d assured me she had everything in hand and that I could come in when I was feeling up to it.

So on Thursday, I’d sent her a message saying I thought I’d be able to come in Friday afternoon — the bar didn’t open until twelve on weekdays — and after Celeste had headed back to Phoenix late that morning, I patted Chauncey on the head, told him to be a good boy, and made my way downtown.

The weather was still beautiful, with temperatures sitting in the low seventies and clear blue skies overhead. It was only a ten-minute walk to the bar from the house, and I figured I’d walk there every day until it got too cold or rainy — or snowy, I reminded myself, something I really wasn’t looking forward to — and I’d have to drive.

As I got closer to downtown, I couldn’t quite ignore the nervous butterflies in my stomach. I told myself that was silly, since I’d met Roz at Hazel’s funeral and she’d seemed perfectly nice. But even though I was now the owner of the business, I couldn’t help feeling like a kid on her first day at a new school.

I’d made sure my hair and makeup were perfect, and I’d decided on a simple black dress with a black beaded cardigan over it and some kitten heels. They were good enough for walking in, although I realized that my new role as the owner of Copper State Cellars was probably going to require me to get more practical shoes.

Well, who was I to turn down a chance to go shopping, even if it was for sensible footwear?

I waited at the signal on Goodwin Street, then crossed over. As I went, the butterflies in my stomach sped up their fluttering, which I told myself was ridiculous.

“Get a grip, Lorelei,” I murmured to myself.

Luckily, no one was close enough to hear me, although downtown Prescott seemed busier than I’d expected it to be at 11:45 on a Friday morning. Apparently, the state’s former capital had become something of a destination recently, which I supposed could only be good for business.

I headed down the alley to the bar. Like the rest of the buildings along Whiskey Row, it was brick, although the rear façade had been painted with the sunburst of the Arizona state flag, making it almost impossible to miss. Just in case you didn’t get the hint, the sign over the door let you know the business was Copper State Cellars, and I liked how the letters were inlaid with real copper so they glinted in the sunlight every time the wind shifted the sign a little.