Page 39

You’re hallucinating, Duchess says. Either that or it’s dinnertime for the ghosts.

GHOSTS! Sherlock jumps and howls, causing just about everyone in this room to jump and howl right along with him.

“Nobody panic,” Kitty calls out with a laugh. “Our ghosts love the four-footed among us just as much as we do.”

A light laugh circles the crowd.

Georgie leans forward, squinting at the table. “Is that actual food?”

“It is, but it’s garnished with ectoplasm,” Miss Kitty says cheerfully. “The spirits like to throw dinner parties.”

“Can you eat ectoplasm?” Georgie asks and before Kitty can answer she reaches over and pops one of the glossy-looking deviled eggs into her mouth.

“Georgie,” Mom hisses. “Stop it.”

“I’m asking for scientific purposes, Red.”

The ballroom is next, and it’s enormous with polished marble floors, mirrors on every wall, and a chandelier that’s definitely bigger than my minivan. Phantom music starts playing from nowhere, along with a waltz that sounds like it’s coming from an old gramophone, and Miss Kitty encourages everyone to “feel the spirits.”

Women swarm the enormous room, oohing and ahhing at the haunted-looking décor.

And without hesitation, Georgie immediately starts waltzing with an invisible partner.

“Georgie,” Mom says, mortified. “Stop it.”

“What? He’s a very good dancer!” Georgie spins gracefully, her bat-wing cape flowing behind her, as well as the bats in her hair.

Mom inches back. “Who’s a good dancer?”

“The ghost, Red. Keep up.” Georgie laughs and soon women are clapping, egging her on, and a handful are taking pictures of the spectacle.

Honestly, Fish says, peering over at her, if I didn’t know better, I’d really think that Georgie was moving and grooving with a man at the helm.

Duchess nods. For pulling off a one-woman waltz, she’s really convincing that there’s someone else there with her.

I hate to admit that they’re right. Georgie even has me fooled into thinking she’s actually swaying to the beat with someone in her arms.

Sherlock woofs. It does beg the question—how many times has she practiced this at home?

Miss Kitty is clapping along with the crowd and encouraging her. “Yes! Feel the spirits! Shake those hips, move those legs. They love to dance!”

“Try not to break anything,” Mom shouts, and Kitty bursts out in laughter.

“Oh, she’s adorable,” Kitty coos. “I don’t think a sweet old lady like that could cause any trouble at all.”

“You haven’t met Georgie,” Mom counters, and Kitty chortles all that much more.

Fish’s mouth falls open as she looks my way. I think that woman just issued Georgie a challenge.

Duchess nods. Georgie, or the ghost?

The crowd is half-delighted and half-scandalized. In fact, a few women give it a go, and soon half a dozen of them are pretending to dance with a ghost of their own.

I knew hosting an event at a haunted house was the right thing to do. Miss Kitty giggles as if she’s beside herself with delight. This is exactly what Clawdia said would happen. She said people would love the interactive element. But she also said I’d never pull it off without her. Well, look at me now.

There’s pride in that thought. And a touch of anger. And, honestly? There’s something that feels a lot like vindication, too.

Georgie gets dipped by her invisible partner, and she dips so low she seems to defy the laws of physics.