Free Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance by Tabby Moray Page A

at her throat and an odd look came over his face.
    “Are you okay?” she asked.
    “This used to be my house.” His voice was low, husky with emotion. He rocked back on his heels, a sad look crossing his face and disappearing nearly as quickly as it had come.
    “I—I didn’t know. I had no idea,” she said, astonished.
    “How could you?” he asked, his fathomless eyes looking into her own.
    “I—you’re right,” she said, stumbling over her words. “How could I know?” And better yet, why hadn’t Sam told her? “So, then, you were the seller that didn’t want to sell, huh?”
    “Yeah. And you were the buyer that drove a hard bargain.”
    “Some might say I just like to get a good deal.”
    “More like a great deal,” he laughed, shaking his head. He fell silent, standing back and looking up at the house.
    “Did you do all the renovations yourself?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.
    “Mostly. Sometimes a buddy of mine would come over to help.”
    “How long did it take?”
    “More than a year and a half.”
    “It’s beautiful. I love it. When I first saw it I knew it was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life,” she said softly.
    “I did, too.” He nodded his head, looking down. “But then--,” He stopped, looking off to the side, the light from the porch shining on his profile and creating pockets of dark, pooling shadows.
    “But then--?” she prompted him, eager to hear the rest.
    “But then everything changed and I was left with a house I no longer wanted.” The words were harsh and final, his body stiff, his back ramrod straight. “I should go. I’m glad you like the house. You look good in it. Have a nice night.”
    He walked down to the car he’d parked at the curb and with a final wave, sped off as fast as the speed limit would allow.
    **
    “Sam! Sam—come out right now!”
    “I’m here, I’m here. What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Sam the Ghost floated into view, rubbing her eyes as if she’d been awoken from a deep slumber.
    “Why didn’t you tell me this was your fiancé’s house?” Dina demanded, indignantly.
    “I didn’t think it was important information,” she replied, innocently. She yawned, stretching.
    “That’s bullshit! You left that out for a reason,” she said, suspiciously. “And stop with the act! Ghosts don’t need to sleep!”
    “I do need to recharge my energies. Maybe it’s not quite like slumber when you’re alive, but it serves the same purpose.”
    “Really?”
    “Umm-hmm.”
    “Anyway, you can’t imagine my shock when your guy told me I bought this house from him. Is that your connection here? This house?”
    “No, I never lived here. Arnie and I—well, Arnie--wanted to do things the old-fashioned way and move in together after we were married.”
    “But you did know about the house? It wasn’t a surprise for his future bride?”
    “No, nothing like that.”
    “Then I don’t understand your connection to this space. Normally ghosts are trapped in the place they died in, yet you really have no connection to this place beyond the fiancé that purchased it and that in and of itself isn’t enough to allow you to travel here at will. There’s something missing. What aren’t you telling me, Sam?”
    But Dina found she was talking to herself because Sam pulled yet another disappearing act.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Tuesday dawned dismal and grey. Then, as soon as she left the house, the cloudy sky finally opened up, pouring forth a torrent of rain.
    Instead of going straight to the studio, she stopped by the café next door, heading to a table overlooking the soggy, dripping seating outside. Quickly plopping her umbrella down at an empty table, she went to the counter and ordered her usual, reading a discarded newspaper while she waited for her order. Her cell phone rang, interrupting her scrutiny of a small, angry-looking woman having a disagreement with one of the barista’s.
    “Hey,