Chapter 17 #2
“Oh my God!” Frannie exclaims, grabbing his arm while Gretchen lurches forward to strangle him with a hug.
Brad reaches out, too, and they end up knocking over their basket of fries and Frannie’s untouched Moscow mule.
Even as they mop up their mess, it’s a joyous few minutes of peppering Jonathan with a host of questions whose answers make no sense to Frannie. It’s ridiculously exciting.
She offers to cover the next round, and replace the fries, scooting out of the booth again to push her way toward the bar. She can’t hear Gretchen anymore, but it’s clear she’s still shouting her excitement into Jonathan’s overwhelmed face, Brad gleeful beside her.
A tinge of melancholy permeates Frannie’s happy bubble. Elsa would be really excited for Jonathan. Hell, she’d probably understand everything he just said about his shooting schedule.
Frannie manages to capture the bartender’s attention.
She waits for their order, wondering what it would be like if she could get Elsa and the kids out of the Dakota.
Could she introduce them to her friends?
Could they have monthly roommate drinks at home with fancy cheese and little ghost kid Monopoly sessions?
“Here you go, love,” the bartender says, pushing a replacement Moscow mule and a pitcher of Brad’s favorite beer across the countertop toward her.
Frannie passes the woman her credit card, impressed by her biker-chic outfit and blond undercut. Frannie’s never been able to pull off that kind of ensemble, all black leather and bare forearms. And an undercut with her curls? Disaster in the making.
She takes the table number the bartender passes back, smiles a little at the wink she gives her, and then carefully fights her way back to the booth with their drinks.
All Elsa has to do is look at her and she’s weak in every muscle in her body. But the hot bartender? That wink did nothing for her.
It’s somewhat unnerving. She’s falling—she might be falling in love with a dead woman who’s trapped in an apartment building where she doesn’t live.
She’s been thoroughly wrecked by a ghost.
“Hey, you with us?” Gretchen asks.
Frannie blinks, looking across the table at Gretchen. Shit, she’s been staring out into the bar thinking about how weird and maybe cosmically wrong and also stunningly hot and exciting being with Elsa is.
“So, does this mean you get a whole trailer and everything?” she asks, turning away from Gretchen’s searching eyes to grin at Jonathan.
She doesn’t need external scrutiny about this. It’s confusing enough to deal with her own thoughts on the matter, let alone anyone else’s.
Frannie opens her mouth for the third time before shutting it abruptly and looking down at her laptop.
She’s sitting at the opposite end of Henry’s dining table, waiting for him to give her more notes on the flap copy for the temporarily titled Typeset.
He’s supposed to send the book to Maribel over the holiday break, and he wants to have the back cover copy ready for when they send it to his editor. Because he’s anxious like that.
But at least his anxiety doesn’t make him jiggle his leg like she’s doing.
They’re fine. He’s obviously gotten over his disappointment in her not having written a book while he was on tour. It probably wasn’t even really disappointing to him.
“Out with it already,” Henry says.
Frannie looks up to find Henry staring at her. She sighs and lowers her laptop screen, squaring her shoulders. She keeps meaning to ask Elsa first, and then ask Henry, but she’s rapidly running out of time.
The ghosts can hide if they want to. Elsa will understand. She thinks.
“Would you ever consider asking the building to let a ghost hunter come through?” she asks quickly.
Henry cocks his head. “What?”
“My roommate is working with Brad Drill—he’s got a big TikTok following as a ghost hunter—and they were—well, I was hoping maybe you’d be willing to help us get him authorization to film a spot in the building?
I know they’re really particular about it, but he’s great, and my roommate is an excellent producer.
She works for News 18 …” Frannie peters off at Henry’s wide-eyed incredulity.
“You want me to get the co-op board to allow a ghost hunter in?”
“Please?”
Henry stares at her for a moment and then bursts out laughing. Frannie sits there, stunned, watching Henry bend over the table, a hand to his chest. She didn’t think it was that absurd a request.
“Oh, that makes my year,” Henry says, pulling himself upright, face red, eyes crinkled.
“Glad to help?” Frannie hedges.
“Always with the unexpected,” he says, shaking his head. “I can certainly ask. On one condition.”
“Shoot,” Frannie says, surprised.
“I want to go on the ghost hunt,” Henry says.
“Really?”
Henry nods seriously. “You think I’m setting something like that up and not getting in on the action?”
“Fair,” Frannie says. “It’ll just be Brad, Gretchen, me, and you, then. Brad’s great at what he does, and he has all kinds of fun ghost facts.”
“We’ll see if he has more than me,” Henry says, chest puffing out a little.
At that moment, Elsa appears behind Henry, eyebrow raised. Frannie nearly chokes on her own spit.
Oh, shit.
“Okay there?” Henry asks.
Elsa vanishes and Frannie coughs unconvincingly. “Yeah, yeah. Just … never pegged you as a believer.”
“I’ve lived in the Dakota for twenty-five years. I’ve seen some things,” he says.
Elsa appears behind him and shakes her head, before disappearing again. Frannie has to clamp her lips together to prevent hysterical laughter from bubbling up.
“You don’t believe me?” Henry asks.
“No, no, I do. What have you seen?” Frannie tries to ask calmly.
“Oh, you’ll have to wait for the ghost hunt. I’ll talk to the board today and get back to you,” Henry says, rubbing his hands together. “Never would have pegged you as a believer either.”
Frannie shrugs. “I’m open to possibilities.” I think I might be in love with the ghost who keeps standing behind you.
“Maybe you should write a ghost book,” Henry says.
Frannie doesn’t move a muscle. “I’ll consider it,” she says evenly, heart hammering.