Free Heiress for Hire by Erin McCarthy

"Whatever she's crying about, it can't be as bad as my day."
     
    And she was almost certain that sound was coming from inside the house. It had too much clarity and volume to be outside. Following the sound down the hallway, Amanda ducked to enter the tiny third bedroom, the one Shelby had told her used to be a second floor porch and had been enclosed. There was a mirror hanging in that room, a rather overblown baroque job, with proportions better suited to hanging in a great hall than a hobbit-sized bedroom.
     
    "Damn, I was afraid of that." The crying roiled and wailed throughout the room, strongest in front of the mirror. Like someone was in the mirror. With a sigh, Amanda did a cursory search of the room and windows and came to the conclusion that she was experiencing her first encounter with the Crying Lady, the ghost reputed to haunt her house.
     
    It was just her luck that something of actual minor interest happened and she was too tired and hungry to give a crap.
     
    "Okay, chica, what's the problem?" Amanda put her hand on her hip while Baby growled at her ankles. With a deep breath, she turned to look in the mirror.
     
    "Holy shit!" Amanda jumped back and fought the urge to scream.
     
    Good God, her hair looked horrible. She had been shopping with the clip to her extensions showing beneath her left ear. Nice and tacky.
     
    "That's it. I've hit rock bottom." But on a happy note, her curse seemed to have frightened away the Crabby Lady. There was no more crying.
     
    Her phone rang as she was peering into the mirror, fixing her hair. She sprinted down the hall with a burst of energy to answer it. No one called her house number. This was very exciting and a sad testimonial to the state of her life that receiving a phone call got her all hot and bothered.
     
    "Hello?" She was cool; she was calm. She was not alone in the big, bad, wolfish world with a ghost who needed anti-depressants, and no one who gave a shit whether she lived or died.
     
    Someone had called her. If it were just someone trying to sell her the Cuttersville Explorer newspaper she'd slit her wrists.
     
    "Amanda, it's Danny. Danny Tucker."
     
    Like she knew twelve Dannys in Cuttersville.
     
    "Oh, hey, Danny, what's up?" She was just the master of emotions, currently specializing in nonchalant. Maybe she should hit Hollywood with all this awesome acting she was doing lately.
     
    "Uh, I, well, just wanted to let you know that Hair by Harriet is hiring. If you're really serious about getting a job. I know that's kind of a stupid thing for someone like you to be doing, but I just thought…" He trailed off, clearing his throat.
     
    "That I knew hair?" she said, just a little bit touched that he had given her situation any thought.
     
    "Exactly." He sighed in relief.
     
    Without a cosmetology degree, she didn't think she was qualified to do anything at the salon except maybe give advice, but it never hurt to inquire. "Thanks, I'll check it out."
     
    Amanda walked back toward the last bedroom, flipping on all the hall and bedroom lights as she went. She needed another look at that mirror. "How's Piper?" She sincerely hoped Piper would embrace Danny as her father and wouldn't waste unnecessary time punishing him for something he'd had no control over.
     
    Though Amanda thought Piper's mother could stand to be bitch-slapped for never telling Danny he had a daughter. Of course, she was dead, so that wasn't really an option.
     
    "She's in the bath right now, hopefully using lots of soap."
     
    "That's good. You get all her new stuff unpacked?"
     
    "No. There's eight bags lying in my kitchen. But I'll get to it in the morning."
     
    A hazy milky color had clouded the mirror where it hung over an antique whatnot. Amanda ran her finger over the glass, leaving a slight streak.
     
    "Danny, what is the story with the chick who cries in the mirror?" Shelby had told her that story once before, but she had only listened with half an ear, certain it was