Free The Bride's Curse by Glenys O'Connell Page B

cookies,” Noelia said, placing a tray on the small table between them. “Of course, coffee making would be even better and quicker if we had one of those fancy new coffee machines.”
    “Not in the budget, especially with all the lost sales,” Kelly retorted.
    “And if you—we—solve the problem?”
    “Then I promise you a trip to the store to choose a machine with all the bells and whistles.”
    “Deal.” Noelia grinned triumphantly. “Are you going to the newspaper morgue? Let’s get closer to working this out.”
    “First I have to deal with something I’ve been putting off for too long. Should be back soon if all goes well,” Kelly said. Grabbing her sweater off the hook near the door, she turned back. “Oh, Noelia? If you see me sitting on the bench over there looking like I’m talking to myself … ”
    “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll just assume you’re talking to the imaginary friend you have there. I really do think you should get out more. Maybe that sexy hunk Brett will help you?”
    With a snort of disgust, Kelly flounced out from the store and headed across the road. She hated it when Noelia could see right through her. She was pretty sure her assistant had known that Brett sent delicious shivers of lust shimmering through her boss, long before Kelly herself was ready to accept it.
    The restless spirit was still sitting there, although he looked paler than ever.
If this keeps up, he won’t be visible at all.
That idea should have pleased her until she thought about having an invisible grumpy old ghost wandering around, possibly in her private space, never being able to see where he was. She shuddered.
    “I was going to bring you a coffee but the last time I did that I ended up spilling it all over my shirt. Besides, ghosts can’t drink coffee.”
    “Don’t be cruel. Have you any idea what I’d give for a sip of coffee? Even that dishwater brew that comes from that ancient machine of yours … and, oh, my heavens, a sip of good French wine … ”
    “Well, maybe you could get out of my imagination and go somewhere where you can enjoy these delights.” Kelly took a deep drink of her coffee and smacked her lips theatrically.
    The ghost snorted. “At least you’ve figured out what I am. Now you need to learn who I am.”
    “Mostly, I need to know what the hell I have to do to get you to go away and bother someone else.”
    “There aren’t many people who can see us.”
    “Us?” Kelly looked around the street and the park behind them in dismay. “There are more of you?” She imagined whole lineups of restless spirits waiting their turn for a chat, making demands she couldn’t possibly fulfill …
    As if he could read her mind—he was a ghost, he probably could—the old guy said: “Don’t worry, I’m the only one here at the moment. You and I have a connection.”
    Confusion reigned. “You do realize I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about? What connection could we possibly have?”
    A sound like a sob echoed rustily from the spirit. Kelly saw a tiny drop of moisture on the bench and wondered if it were possible for ghosts to cry. And what could she do? She could hardly pat him on the shoulder or offer a hug. Her hands would probably pass right through him.
    And it was bad enough to appear to be talking to herself on this bench. Whatever would people think if they heard her making soothing sounds and saw her patting and hugging apparently thin air? Things were bad enough as it was. She waited him out.
    “I told you I did something awful. I made two people very unhappy and I need to put it right before … before … whatever comes next. Find them for me, tell them I’m sorry … ask their forgiveness and I’ll be gone.”
    “Hey, wait a minute! Do you have any idea what you’re … ?” Kelly cried, but it was too late. The spirit was gone and all her outburst had brought was worried looks from two women passing by on the other side of the street.
    “That’s the