Ghostly: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Perks of Being Paranormal Book 1)

Chapter 7

With the dining room and the dining table being too small, Gabriel had to improvise. He dragged two armchairs from upstairs and a few other chairs into the living room, spreading them around the coffee table. A total of six: wasn’t that wonderful?

Jason arrived first, with a young man he introduced as his boyfriend, Mark. As Gabriel led them in, Ida was already sitting on one of the armchairs, back straight, hands in her lap, smiling at the guests.

Mark headed straight for the same armchair.

“Aah, wait!” Gabriel reached his hand out.

Ida looked from him to Mark and shrugged. “I’m a part of this too, aren’t I?”

“Uh, sit somewhere else, please,” Gabriel said. “That one has wobbly legs.”

“Then we must save it for Dina,” Jason mused.

Gabriel invited them to sit on the sofa, then went to the kitchen for drinks. He caught Ida waving at the two guests.

“I might as well try,” she said.

“I think if they could see you, they would’ve reacted by now.”

“What?” Jason asked.

Oh. Fuck.

“Uh, nothing. Phone call.” Gabriel tapped his ear. “Later, Ernest. Yeah, yeah, I’ll go over the contract.” He pretended to pull out an earbud and deposit it on the counter. By the time he came back with the drinks, more knocking came from the door. Still high-strung, Gabriel twitched.

Relax. It’s only the intended guests.

“The witches are here,” Jason said.

“You said you’d behave,” Mark gently admonished.

Jason huffed. “We’ll see how they start.”

The three women had some serious color-coding going on. Marge was again wearing yellow, Janice peach, and Dina blue. It was as if someone waved a magic wand over their dresses and made them formal.

“Oh, it is lovely,” Janice said, the first to wade into the living room.

“How quaint.”

“Careful with the statues,” Gabriel warned, as Dina almost swept the deer-hog with her purse, and followed the other two.

“Don’t sit there,” Jason said as Marge headed toward the armchair. “You’ll ruin the Feng Shui.”

“A leg has broken,” Gabriel explained with an apologetic smile.

The women took seats in the remaining armchair and the dining chairs.

“Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Buren,” Dina said. “Very gracious of you.” She looked around the room, examining the decor.

“Who’s Mr. Buren?” Ida asked.

Gabriel ignored her and smiled at Dina. “My pleasure.”

“It’s good to have some new blood in town,” Marge remarked.

“She means that in a completely non-witchy way,” Jason added.

“Clearly, because we’re not witches,” Marge bit at him.

“They’re not,” Ida said in complete seriousness. “Witches don’t exist.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Jason tilted his head. “You use the combined power of friendship to ruin other people’s lives.”

“I don’t think our guests are getting along too well,” Ida said.

Gabriel gave her a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment. Luckily, bickering clients was a situation easy to diffuse. “So! Tell me about this town. And the house. I’m afraid I’m still a stranger to most of it.” He sat down by Jason and Mark on the sofa and leaned on the armrest in a relaxed manner.

“You mean you don’t know?” Jason said, abandoning the quarrel.

Gabriel smiled inwardly—works like a charm—before he truly realized the meaning of the words. “I don’t know what?”

“The house is haunted.”

“Oh.” Gabriel looked to Ida, who was trying hard to suppress laughter.

Marge added, “We’ve had multiple previous tenants reporting strange noises. Knocking…”

“Objects being moved, sometimes in front of their eyes…” Janice narrowed her glance at the glasses on the table. Next to her, Ida stretched an arm out toward the glass.

“Don’t!” Gabriel shot out.

Janice jumped and put a hand to her chest.

“Don’t… worry about me,” he said calmer. “No ghosts here. Now, who’s ready for dinner?” He went to the kitchen to retrieve the chicken, kept warm in the oven. Last thing he needed was for that tale to spread, and some reporter to write how the once great Gabriel Vane had fallen so low he was now frolicking around with ghosts.

“Talk about awkward dinners,” Ida said, suddenly beside him.

Gabriel yelped and nearly dropped the chicken plate.

“Are you alright, Mr. Buren?” one of the women asked from the living room.

“Hot plate. And please, it’s Gabriel.”

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard with them,” Ida said. “I think they only came because they were curious about me.”

“I thought you wanted to be a good hostess,” he whispered.

“I did. I am. But I don’t like the way Janice is ogling my vase.”

“Just behave, okay? And please, don’t scare anybody.” He took the food, together with a stack of plates, to the living room. “I apologize for the improvised dinner arrangements.”

The women eyed the plates, as if not sure how to proceed.

Jason grabbed one and helped himself to some chicken. “It’s cool. Just like street food.”

The others waited for a few moments, then reached for their respective plates.

Ida sat in her armchair. “When Larry and Rhonda still lived here, they talked about an old man who liked to frequent the diner in town. He’d always order an apple pie and tell the craziest stories. I wonder if he’s still there.”

Gabriel maintained eye contact with her for a few seconds as confirmation, then turned to his guests. “I have a friend who passed through the town once. He went to your diner and met quite the man—older, a frequent customer who liked apple pies, I believe…?”

The women looked at each other.

“Oh, you must mean Mr. Schumacher.”

“Funny fellow, plenty of stories to tell.”

“Don’t they say he had a cat who could talk?” Jason said, initiating a few more seconds of silence.

“You know, I heard that too,” Dina then said.

Janice waved her hand. “Oh, I haven’t just heard it. Don’t you remember I told you that one time, I was walking and he came by, the cat on his shoulder…”

Peace between the guests temporarily reinstated, Gabriel took a bite of his chicken—honestly, not a bad job—and looked at Ida, hoping to slip her an eye wink. But she was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, hands supporting her chin, and completely engrossed in the guests’ tale, with a slight smile playing on her lips.

So Gabriel just sat back and listened.

Five gossip topics later

“And that is why you only wear yellow when you go picking mushrooms.” Mark returned his plate to the table, practically licked clean. They all were, as Gabriel noticed with gusto.

The gathered company laughed. “It’s a good thing you came here, Gabriel,” Jason said. “We might need some legal advice.” He gently elbowed Mark in the ribs.

Gabriel, who’d been enjoying the laid-back attitude of the past few minutes—who knew dinners could be like this?—nearly got propelled out of the sofa. “What?”

“Well, you are a lawyer, aren’t you? Or something legal?” Jason said it as simply as declaring the weather forecast. “The way you talk sometimes. In the store with Dina. And you were saying something about contracts earlier.”

Ida gasped. “He Sherlock Holmes’d you.”

“I… uh…”

“Oh, you’re a lawyer?” Janice clutched her purse. “How fancy. Hear that, Dina? We’ve got a lawyer in town now.”

“We already have one,” Marge said.

“Who, old Trent? You know he spends half of his working day asleep,” Janice returned.

“I’m afraid I don’t currently practice.” Gabriel tried to distract himself by twirling a glass of wine between his fingers.

“How so?” Dina asked.

“For god’s sake, lay off on the inquisition,” Jason said.

“I hardly see how that’s inquisition. I asked one question. Besides, you started it.”

“It’s really no—” Gabriel started.

“I was just curious, but clearly he doesn’t want to talk about it,” Jason said.

“Oh, what happened?” Marge asked. “Something bad?”

“Why else would anyone come here,” Mark murmured.

“Oh, boy.” Ida’s gaze jumped from one neighbor to the other. “They’re doing it again.”

“Nothing bad happened,” Gabriel said out loud, not that it mattered to the others.

“You know, you can always leave,” Dina said to the two men.

“I bet you’d love that,” Jason bit off. “Too bad you sabotaged my chances.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” Jason crossed his arms over his chest.

“And don’t pretend you’re a saint, either. As if I don’t know what you call us behind our backs. The Schuyler Sisters and the like.”

“So?” Jason said. “Everyone has nicknames!”

“But not ones saying we’re old crones.”

“Ladies,” Gabriel tried again, “and gentlemen, if you would only—”

“Strutting around town in those tight pants, which is entirely indecent…” Marge said.

“The Schuyler Sisters.” Ida jumped. “Gabriel, the Schuyler Sisters!”

“What?” Gabriel switched between her and his arguing party, unsure where to start putting out this particular fire.

“It’s from the musical. Hamilton. He doesn’t mean it as an insult.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Wednesday incident, Gabriel,” Janice said. “Do keep up. I thought you lawyers were supposed to be sharp.”

“Just tell them they’re from a musical!” Ida jumped up and down.

Gabriel shook his head. “Uh, they’re from a musical.”

In one incredibly synchronized move, the heads of the three women snapped to him.

“The Schuyler Sisters are from a musical.” He cleared his throat. “Hamilton.”

“Yeah, d’oh,” Jason said. “I thought it would be funny to call you that because you always stick together, like you’re sisters, and you wear the same colors as they do. Yellow, peach, and light blue.”

“I don’t understand,” Dina said. “Why would you call us after someone from a musical?”

Jason shrugged. “I like musicals. It’s not meant to be an offense.”

“If anything, you should feel flattered,” Mark added. “He won’t shut up about it.”

Jason blushed.

“So you weren’t calling us old crones,” Dina said. “Then why do you hate us?”

“Because you don’t like us,” Jason said. “I thought that was clear. The nicknames don’t have anything to do with it. You have a whole problem with me being gay and all that.”

Dina’s hand froze halfway to her glass. “You’re gay?”

“Who do you think Mark is?”

“Your…” Dina’s gaze swiveled to Mark. “Friend?”

“Wait, so what is the problem? Loud and clear, please,” Gabriel said. “If we’re to get to the bottom of this.”

“Jason was supposed to take my daughter to prom. Only he canceled on her the night before, and never bothered talking to her again,” Dina said. Gabriel looked at Jason.

“I finally came out. I explained it to Marisha, and she understood. She may have been sad because it all happened just before prom, but she got over it. No heartbreaks or such.”

“Misunderstanding cleared up.” Gabriel nodded to Dina, and turned back to Jason. “Now, what was that about sabotage?”

“I thought Marisha told her I was gay, so Dina sabotaged an internship I had lined up. It would’ve been cool, too. Movie makeup. Her husband has connections.”

“I didn’t,” Dina said. “I had no idea. And besides, if I wanted you gone, why would I try to make you stay?”

“That is a good point,” Gabriel said. “Have you considered perhaps you simply didn’t fulfill the conditions for the internship?”

“Yup, he’s a lawyer, alright,” Mark murmured.

“I suppose.” Jason bent his head. “I’m sorry, Dina.”

“No, Jason, I’m sorry.” Dina reached for his hand. “Misunderstandings or not, the truth is, us ladies weren’t always on our best behavior, were we? Just look at how we snubbed Gabriel—and that was another misunderstanding. But we’ll try to be better now, won’t we?”

Marge and Janice nodded.

A warm feeling of satisfaction spread in Gabriel’s chest. Similar to what he’d feel when he successfully brought a case to a close—only this time, it was even stronger. It almost felt like his insides were shimmying in happiness.

“So.” He smiled at the gathered company. “Who’s up for some cheese?”

It was late into the evening when the guests filtered out. Tired, but feeling accomplished—and quite certain he’d get bread and pastries the next time he swung by the bakery—Gabriel went upstairs to prepare for sleep. He was in the bathroom, replaying the most satisfying parts of the conversation in his mind, when a scream sounded from downstairs.

Ida.

He dropped his toothbrush into the sink and ran downstairs, previously peaceful mind conjuring up the worst images. Ida bloody on the ground—wait, could ghosts bleed?—maybe an intruder, or another ghost? One not as friendly as Ida—

But Ida was in the living room, safe and sound, looking at something on the bookshelf. “The contract,” she whispered.

Gabriel’s heart rate picked up again. Had they stolen it? Janice had been eyeing the decor in the living room.

“Look at the contract.” Ida stepped aside, staring at him in… wonder? A wave of feelings hit him—happiness.

The contract appeared fine, no damage, except—it was different. It took Gabriel a second to pinpoint the change: there were only three conditions left. Fix something broken was gone.

“Gabriel…” Ida frowned. “During dinner, specifically, when Dina and Jason made up, did you get a pleasant, fuzzy feeling?”

“I did.”

Her eyes grew wider, and she whispered, “Me, too.”

Gabriel only stared at her.

“I don’t get physical sensations. But I felt that. Gabriel…” She could barely hold back a smile. “I think you’ve done it. You fixed something broken— their relationship. You fulfilled a condition. We did it. We did the first one!”

She started shouting and jumping from joy, and Gabriel laughed and maybe even did something embarrassing such as pump a fist, and Ida whirled around until she stopped right beside him, an inch away from touching. She paused and stared at him, face tilted upwards, pink, lush mouth parted slightly, coffee-brown eyes large and glistening from joy. And Gabriel realized she was beautiful.

Oh, he’d known it before. One didn’t need to be impartial to acknowledge it—but it hadn’t been the same. Just seeing some features and knowing they’re pleasing wasn’t this. This strange feeling of yearning and satisfaction, of the unfathomably strong desire to lean down and kiss her—gently, down the slight curve of her Greek nose, until she”d close her eyes and the thick, auburn lashes would caress his cheek. She’d tilt her face up even more, exhale as he’d find her lips and—

Ida jumped back, and he realized he’d leaned forward.

“Uh…” Her hand went to her lips, then she quickly dropped it. “Job well done. And you had a good time, right?”

“What?”

“At dinner. It wasn’t only for work.”

“They were a bit melodramatic, but I suppose it was fun.” It did feel great to resolve an issue, and more than that, simply to have a normal conversation.

Ida bit her lip—don’t look at it—and gave the tiniest nod. “That’s all I had to ask. You can go back to sleep now.”

“Yes.” His hands suddenly felt heavy and clumsy, and he awkwardly clasped them behind his back. “I’ll go do that.” He moved past her to the hallway.

“Gabriel.”

He turned back.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.”

“Never doubted myself.” He tried a smile and bounded up the stairs.

No trial recording helped him fall asleep that night. Gabriel tossed and turned in bed, gradually losing feeling of how much time had passed, mulling over every second of what had happened in the living room.

Did he really try to kiss Ida?

He must’ve been in affect because of the win at dinner. Ida was a ghost, for god’s sake. Besides being way too chatty and cheerful and good, she was also immaterial. How could he even begin to have thoughts of kissing her, when he couldn’t touch her? And he’d need to do that in order to be sure of any attraction. With Wynona, a touch had been everything. Yes, she was clever and fun and perfect for him—but he knew that because her skin pressed against his felt damn good, not because he’d had deep emotional talks with her.

So what the hell was he thinking with Ida?

His stomach rumbled. Yeah, I don’t like where this is going, either. He redirected his thoughts to what was important: the first condition was fulfilled. A victory he sorely needed, even if it wasn’t connected to his career. Three more conditions, and Ida would be free.

Ida would disappear from this world forever.

Wisps of unwanted—unwarranted—thoughts swirled again. The contract might be real and working after all. Ida would disappear.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of him didn’t wish her to.