Chapter 2
Kris
Not long after my chat with Jasha, I parked in my usual spot at Boss’s. I didn’t have a hard start time, but I generally liked to be in by midday, so I was pleased with myself when I walked in at noon on the dot.
I entered the office and gave my sister a wave. Charlotte was already behind the refinished antique desk, sorting through mail, and gave me a quick smile back.
“Good afternoon, Sis.” She pivoted a little in her chair to greet me, flipping curled blonde strands over her shoulder.
“Afternoon. Anything important going on over there?”
“No, just the usual junk mail and bills so far. Oh! But we do have the elevator guy coming in today to service our creaking problem child.”
I froze mid-step. “I thought that was fixed two months ago?”
“Well, it was, but last week it started making noises again.”
“Oh my god, when things are fixed, they’re supposed to stay fixed!”
Charlotte snorted. “I absolutely agree with you. The repairman guaranteed his work on the first visit, so I called him back. He’s not happy, but he’s coming.”
The first month Charlotte had been here learning the ropes, I’d set her on the task of hunting someone down who could actually handle this building’s model of elevator.
It was apparently super old and the parts hard to source.
She’d found someone and gotten the damn thing repaired, but it seemed intent on keeping up its role of problem child.
“What time does he come in?” If the elevator was acting up like before, it definitely had to be serviced again. Before it failed altogether and people got stuck or got sent straight into the crawlspace. Either-or.
“He said sometime after lunch.”
Day looked up already.
While Charlotte sorted mail, I plopped myself into my chair and woke up the computer. I’d handle any emails while she finished her task.
I paused, though, turning my head to look her over.
She had her own computer and workstation on the other side of the L-shaped desk, Bootsy’s bed now sitting between our computers.
Charlotte’s side of the desk kept gaining things—a potted plant, makeup mirror, and cutesy desk organizer crammed with color-coded stationary.
But what had caught my eye were Charlotte’s clothes. More specifically, their sensibility.
“Char, your outfit is bangin’.”
Grey eyes met mine as she gushed, “Aw, thanks!” before her expression morphed into a pout. “My poor Louboutins rarely see the light of day, but at least I won’t ruin another pair tromping through graveyards.”
The first two weeks Charlotte was on the job, she’d wanted to dress like a high-powered attorney—tailored business suits and killer heels included.
Boss had left it to me to gently explain that sometimes Charlotte would stumble through cemeteries in the dead of night.
Sometimes she’d run for it like hellhounds were on her ass.
After a closet revamp by yours truly, Charlotte had found a good balance.
Business casual with a hint of survival instinct, as I called it.
Today’s ensemble of black slacks, light pink ruffle blouse, and black flats was a huge improvement over restrictive power suits and death by designer heels.
I hadn’t expected Charlotte to jive well with this job, to be honest. Out of the two of us, she’d always been more into the socialite lifestyle, even without our parents whispering in her ear.
I’d been skeptical about her work ethic holding down a nine-to-five, but after she’d gone no contact with our parents and escaped her cheating fiancé, she’d wanted to try something our parents hadn’t cherry-picked for her. Boss had wanted to give her a chance.
Charlotte ended up rolling with the ghosts and oddities and exceeding everyone’s expectations, making me a proud big sister. Based on Boss’s check-ins, she now knew almost every facet of the job, which was proof she’d really applied herself.
Bootsy appeared and hopped up on the desk, rubbing himself against my hands, so of course I had to pet the void kitty.
Universal law—if kitty is on desk, kitty must be petted.
So saith the kitty. He’d been quite the happy baby the last two months because Charlotte’s presence meant more humans to love and adore him during work hours.
Pleased with his afternoon greeting, he curled up in my lap and got comfortable, purring. Reminded, I glanced down under the desk but found his food and water bowls full. Good, Charlotte had already taken care of him.
The landline rang and I picked it up automatically, tucking the receiver between ear and shoulder even as I pulled up an intake form. “Afterlife Marriage Agency, this is Kris speaking. How may I help you?”
The person hesitated strongly before asking in accented English, “Sorry, English is no good.”
I switched to Mandarin and repeated myself.
She responded in kind, relief in her voice. “Oh, good, you speak Mandarin. Sorry, my English is not good, I’m still learning.”
“I have full sympathy, English is not easy to learn,” I said with a smile she couldn’t see. “How may I help you?”
“My name is Wu Hua. Several years ago, my first son died, and I arranged a ghost marriage for him. This was through a different agency. But now I need his marriage to be dissolved.”
“My apologies, did you say you want your son’s marriage dissolved?”
“Yes, correct. My son married a living bride.”
Who’d ever heard of a ghost marriage ending in divorce? I had a bad feeling about where this was going.
Charlotte abruptly moved in closer, her chair rolling next to mine. I didn’t know how much, if any, she’d understand, but I put the call on speaker and set the phone back in the cradle. If nothing else, more exposure to the language couldn’t hurt.
“It is somewhat complicated, the situation. In essence my daughter-in-law and my younger son have fallen in love and wish to marry. We want her to divorce our eldest son to make this possible, but we don’t know how he’ll feel about it. Or if it is doable.”
“I…honestly have no idea either. I’m not the matchmaker, I’m her assistant. Can I take down your name and number, consult with her, and have her call you back?”
“Yes, of course.”
I jotted her name and number down, and promised to call her back by the end of the business day. Then I hung up the phone and sat there, staring.
Seriously, I’d told Jasha not even thirty minutes ago that my day couldn’t be weirder than Zhen’s workdays. Universe, why you need to prove me wrong? Huh? What did I ever do to you?
Charlotte poked my shoulder. “I didn’t catch most of that, explain.”
I raised my brows. “I’m surprised you caught any of it.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes at my incredulous tone. “Like I said, not much. Maybe one word in five.”
Still impressive considering she’d only been learning Mandarin for two months. “You know what? Follow me, I need to talk to Boss anyway, and I can brief you both at once.”
“Fine by me.”
Bootsy didn’t want to part with me, so I ended up hefting him onto my shoulder and walking back to Boss’s office, which had been uncharacteristically tidy since Charlotte had tackled reorganizing it. Her first day on the job, she’d nearly demanded a fainting couch over my apparently subpar efforts.
But I figured Boss keeping it clean to Charlotte’s standards was in part because her eyes were failing her, and life was easier all around if she knew exactly where everything was.
She sat behind her desk, ensconced in the chair Zhen had made her—a La-Z-Boy recliner he’d chopped the legs off of, then attached heavy duty wheels to.
She loved it, said it was the best computer chair she’d ever had.
It accommodated her slightly stooped posture, and with the loose, flowy clothes she liked to wear, she looked like an aristocrat waiting for her glam pictures.
She slid her bright red glasses up a little as we entered, pausing her work. “Problem?”
“Boss, this one’s a doozy. I have no idea if the request is even possible. We got a call from a lady named Wu Hua. Her eldest son died a few years ago, and she arranged a marriage for him through a different agency. Only he didn’t marry another ghost but a living bride.”
Charlotte threw up both hands. “Whoa, wait, what?! I thought it was ghost to ghost.”
“Normally it is,” Boss explained patiently.
“But there are living women who don’t want to bother with a husband and don’t want the stigma of not being married.
It’s culturally inappropriate in China to not marry.
These women are matched with a wealthy family and given a living, in essence.
They’re gifted a house, a monthly salary.
In return, they act as a daughter-in-law and take care of the aging parents.
It’s mutually beneficial. It’s also not always acceptable.
There are some who consider it a fake marriage, or call it ‘marrying a spirit tablet.’ But the practice is not unheard of. ”
Charlotte looked like she was trying to wrap her head around the explanation and kind of failing. I had complete empathy; I’d felt the same way when Boss first explained it all to me.
Only I wasn’t done. “But get this. The daughter-in-law and the younger brother have fallen in love. They want to get married. So the question is, can the marriage to the older brother be undone?”
Boss pursed her thinning lips in a silent whistle. “Oh, now, that’s a new one for me.”
“Really? Haven’t annulled one before?”
“No, that I have not. I know it can be done, however.”
Wait, what? “Really? You can?”
“Yes, the bindings of ghosts can be undone. It’s trickier to do for ghost-to-living person bindings, but it can be done. It does take the consent of both parties, however, so we absolutely must have the consent of the husband. I must summon him and have him speak directly to his family.”