Read Online The Ghost of a Chance by Natalie Vivien - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Natalie Vivien
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moving in with me soon, actually."
"Oh?" My boss's brows lift, questioning.
I smile at her insinuation and shake my head.
"We're just friends. She's going through a rough spot and needs a place to
stay. That's all."
"Well, it would be nice for you to have someone
around. Not many of us are suited to a solitary life."
"No," I agree, glancing at the mermaid
once more before allowing Marjorie to lead me through the restaurant doors. A
waitress dressed in blue seats us at a mosaic-inlaid table next to the
angelfish aquarium.
"A bottle of your best red wine, please."
Marjorie thanks the waitress, who hurries off, and lays her napkin across her
lap. She smiles brightly at me. "So, tell me what you've been doing with
yourself, Darcy."
I shift my gaze and watch the fish, thinking hard.
How much should I tell Marjorie? Anything? Nothing? Can I confide in her? I
don't doubt her discretion, but it might be a bit uncomfortable to continue
working at the library if she thought I was certifiably insane.
"Oh... I've just been staying busy. I don't
want to bore you with a play-by-play." I attempt a grin. "I'd much
rather hear about the latest library drama. Who has Annabelle offended this
week?"
"Who hasn't she offended?" Marjorie
gestures helplessly with her hands. "I think even the library ghost is
annoyed with her at this point."
The waitress returns with our wine and pours two
glassfuls. I sip mine, savoring the bittersweet flavor on my tongue. Marjorie
orders salmon, and I opt for the only vegetarian dish on the menu, a portabella
and pasta salad. My empty stomach growls in anticipation of food. I haven't
eaten yet today. I spent the afternoon trying, in vain, to read and eventually
just fell asleep on the living room sofa. No dreams.
"Marjorie..." I toy with the silverware,
weighing my next words. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
She tilts her head, wine glass in hand. "Why do
you ask?"
"Well, you mentioned the library ghost, and I
just wondered... I mean, have you ever seen a ghost?"
"No, no, I haven't seen a ghost. But I've heard
footsteps in the children's wing—fast, clicking footsteps, like a little girl
running in her Mary Janes. I suppose I believe ghosts could exist."
She watches the fish in the aquarium for a moment, her eyes faraway. "When
my husband Lloyd died, sometimes I smelled his cologne—"
"You did ?"
She waves a hand dismissively. "He wore so much
of the stuff, it probably seeped into the mattress and carpets. I doubt there
was anything supernatural going on. But...I remember wishing that his spirit
really was with me, watching over me. All I wanted was one word, one touch from
him. Just one more. Of course that was impossible." She downs the rest of
her wine and refills the glass, before topping off mine, as well.
"Thank you." I rotate the glass stem in my
fingers, chewing on my lip. "What if it was possible?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just... I've felt Catherine's presence,
Marjorie."
"Felt? As in a physical sensation? Or some sort
of sixth sense?"
Grateful that she didn't laugh at my admission, I
decide to be cautiously honest. "Both, I guess. I... I smell her perfume.
That was the first thing I noticed after she died, her scent. She always wore
the same one. If you put a thousand perfume bottles under my nose, I could
recognize hers. And...every once in awhile, especially—" I hesitate,
taking another drink before continuing. "It's strongest at our cabin. She
always wrote there."
Marjorie temples her fingers beneath her chin. The
silence worries me. What is she thinking? Finally, with an exhalation of
breath, she shrugs her shoulders. "Sounds like a haunting to me. I know
you aren't one for making up stories. You say it's true, so it must be."
"Then...then you believe me? You believe that
Catherine has become a ghost?"
She screws her mouth up sideways, thinking.
"Well, I don't know what ghosts are, whether they're a deceased person's
spirit or just a remnant, a memory... Like an imprint, a stain.
"Oh?" My boss's brows lift, questioning.
I smile at her insinuation and shake my head.
"We're just friends. She's going through a rough spot and needs a place to
stay. That's all."
"Well, it would be nice for you to have someone
around. Not many of us are suited to a solitary life."
"No," I agree, glancing at the mermaid
once more before allowing Marjorie to lead me through the restaurant doors. A
waitress dressed in blue seats us at a mosaic-inlaid table next to the
angelfish aquarium.
"A bottle of your best red wine, please."
Marjorie thanks the waitress, who hurries off, and lays her napkin across her
lap. She smiles brightly at me. "So, tell me what you've been doing with
yourself, Darcy."
I shift my gaze and watch the fish, thinking hard.
How much should I tell Marjorie? Anything? Nothing? Can I confide in her? I
don't doubt her discretion, but it might be a bit uncomfortable to continue
working at the library if she thought I was certifiably insane.
"Oh... I've just been staying busy. I don't
want to bore you with a play-by-play." I attempt a grin. "I'd much
rather hear about the latest library drama. Who has Annabelle offended this
week?"
"Who hasn't she offended?" Marjorie
gestures helplessly with her hands. "I think even the library ghost is
annoyed with her at this point."
The waitress returns with our wine and pours two
glassfuls. I sip mine, savoring the bittersweet flavor on my tongue. Marjorie
orders salmon, and I opt for the only vegetarian dish on the menu, a portabella
and pasta salad. My empty stomach growls in anticipation of food. I haven't
eaten yet today. I spent the afternoon trying, in vain, to read and eventually
just fell asleep on the living room sofa. No dreams.
"Marjorie..." I toy with the silverware,
weighing my next words. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
She tilts her head, wine glass in hand. "Why do
you ask?"
"Well, you mentioned the library ghost, and I
just wondered... I mean, have you ever seen a ghost?"
"No, no, I haven't seen a ghost. But I've heard
footsteps in the children's wing—fast, clicking footsteps, like a little girl
running in her Mary Janes. I suppose I believe ghosts could exist."
She watches the fish in the aquarium for a moment, her eyes faraway. "When
my husband Lloyd died, sometimes I smelled his cologne—"
"You did ?"
She waves a hand dismissively. "He wore so much
of the stuff, it probably seeped into the mattress and carpets. I doubt there
was anything supernatural going on. But...I remember wishing that his spirit
really was with me, watching over me. All I wanted was one word, one touch from
him. Just one more. Of course that was impossible." She downs the rest of
her wine and refills the glass, before topping off mine, as well.
"Thank you." I rotate the glass stem in my
fingers, chewing on my lip. "What if it was possible?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just... I've felt Catherine's presence,
Marjorie."
"Felt? As in a physical sensation? Or some sort
of sixth sense?"
Grateful that she didn't laugh at my admission, I
decide to be cautiously honest. "Both, I guess. I... I smell her perfume.
That was the first thing I noticed after she died, her scent. She always wore
the same one. If you put a thousand perfume bottles under my nose, I could
recognize hers. And...every once in awhile, especially—" I hesitate,
taking another drink before continuing. "It's strongest at our cabin. She
always wrote there."
Marjorie temples her fingers beneath her chin. The
silence worries me. What is she thinking? Finally, with an exhalation of
breath, she shrugs her shoulders. "Sounds like a haunting to me. I know
you aren't one for making up stories. You say it's true, so it must be."
"Then...then you believe me? You believe that
Catherine has become a ghost?"
She screws her mouth up sideways, thinking.
"Well, I don't know what ghosts are, whether they're a deceased person's
spirit or just a remnant, a memory... Like an imprint, a stain.
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