Spirited 1 by Mary Behre Read Free Book Online Page B

down the short hallway to the single restroom in the shop. After flipping the light switch, the overhead light buzzed to life. She strode to the sink.
    It took several seconds for the energy-saving bulb to illuminate the bathroom enough for Jules to clearly see her reflection in the mirror. When she did, it taunted her.
    “I look like a deranged Oompa Loompa with red hair,” Jules whispered to herself.
    She half-chuckled and half-groaned as she washed her hands. Floral paint wasn’t permanent, but with her fair skin she might need to take a couple of showers to get it all off. And somehow she’d splattered paint onto her cheek.
    She scrubbed the spot with soap, then closed her eyes to splash water onto her face. As the bubbles gurgled down the drain, she sensed she was no longer alone. Nothing changed in the room at first. No movement, no wind, just the impression of another soul crowding into the tiny bathroom.
    Oh great, the new ghost-girl has returned.
    “Thanks a lot for last night. You nearly had me arrested for breaking and entering.”
    She glanced up, but the mirror’s reflection showed only her.
    “What am I doing?”
    Don’t engage the specter. It would only work harder to stick around. Ignore her. No, not her . . . it. Jules couldn’t humanize the ghost or she’d fall prey to past mistakes and want to do something really stupid. Like try to help.
    Can’t see it. Not there. Simple.
    Nodding to her reflection in the mirror, she attempted to ignore her own niggling doubt. Jules patted her cheeks with a paper towel and tossed it into the garbage.
    The temperature dropped fifteen degrees in the space of a few seconds. A frigid wind blew across her neck, giving rise to the tiny hairs there. The screeching voice echoed in her ears. “Please.”
    Jules rubbed her offended ears in a fruitless effort to deafen the noise. It seemed the ghost wasn’t any closer to mastering the ability to speak to the living today than she had been the night before.
    “Awww, dang it!” Jules said through clenched teeth and shut off the water. “I moved back to Tidewater to get away from things like you.”
    The ghost continued, not taking the hint. “Help. Me. Please.”
    Jules went for brutal honesty. “I’m out of the ghost-helping business. Go find a medium or check out the Psychic Life Foundation down on Eighty-first Street.”
    To Jules’s surprise, the apparition departed as noiselessly as it had arrived. Only the absence of a chill against her flesh signified the change at first. Then the rapid elevation in room temperature sent sweat trickling between her breasts.
    Air. She needed fresh air. Jules hurried out of the restroom and made a beeline for the back door. But April stopped her just as she reached it.
    “Juliana, are you sure you’re all right?” Jules turned around at the sound of April’s voice, in time to see Diana disappearing into the back room muttering something about opening boxes.
    April watched the door close behind Diana, then turned back to Jules and continued. “You’ve been really quiet this morning. I have a feeling it wasn’t just because you lost the keys. You’re not having second thoughts about running the business, are you?”
    “No, not at all.” Jules blinked in surprise. “I mean, yes, I’m annoyed with myself for losing my keys, but only because I love this place almost as much as you do. I would have been the manager years ago if I hadn’t married Billy. Teaching preschool was fun, but horticulture is my life. So, no, I’m not having any second thoughts.”
    “Good! I was a little worried after your vision last night.”
    “I told you it was a nightmare not a vision,” Jules replied in a strained voice.
    “Right. And I’ve known you a long time.” April waddled closer then rubbed the small of her back with her right hand. “You screamed, stared at me with that wild I’m-not-really-aware-of–who-I-am stare, then you ran to the bathroom. It’s what you did every