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She gingerly selected one and wiped it off with the old rag she’d brought with her, then went outside to begin the daunting task of putting things to rights in the garden.
    Oblivious to the light rain, she began snipping the honeysuckle vines, then tugging the endless strands out of the bushes and piling them into a garbage can. Yanking the roots from the ground was an even more thankless task, one that quickly had her sweating and cursing a blue streak.
    She’d filled three cans when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel and a car engine cut off out front. A door slammed, then there was a low murmur of voices suddenly punctuated by a scream.
    “No, Daddy! No!”
    Melanie dropped her clippers and ran to the front to find Mike bent over beside the car trying to extricate a screaming, kicking child.
    “What on earth?” she murmured.
    Mike’s head snapped up and hit the edge of the door frame.
    “Don’t get any wild ideas,” he said, looking thoroughly defeated. “My daughter’s terrified of this place for some reason. She thinks it’s haunted.”
    Melanie took in his weary expression, then glanced at the stricken child whose sobs were finally beginning to lessen as she eyed Melanie with wariness. Nudging Mike aside, Melanie said, “Let me give it a try, okay? I assume this is Jessie.”
    “Right.”
    Melanie gazed into deep blue eyes, several shades darker than her father’s. They were glistening with tears.Her fine blond hair was slipping free of a bright-pink scrunchie.
    “Hey, Jessie. I’m Melanie,” she said quietly. “I live here.”
    The little girl stared back solemnly, taking in that news. Melanie waited.
    “Are you a ghost?” Jessie finally asked in a voice barely above a frightened whisper.
    Melanie bit back a smile. “I don’t think so. Want to find out for sure?”
    Jessie looked intrigued. “How?”
    “Pinch me.”
    “Really?” Jessie glanced up at her father, who shrugged.
    “Won’t it hurt?” she asked Melanie, her brow creased in a worried frown.
    “Not if I’m a ghost.”
    Jessie reached out with her dainty little hand and gently pinched Melanie’s arm.
    “Ouch,” Melanie said with an exaggerated grimace.
    “I’m sorry,” Jessie whispered at once.
    “It’s okay. I guess we know now that I’m not a ghost, right?”
    “I guess so,” Jessie said, though she still sounded doubtful.
    “Want to come into the house?” Melanie asked. “We can check to see if there are any ghosts inside, and your dad can chase them away. What do you think?”
    Jessie nodded shyly and held out her arms. Melanie released the seat belt, then lifted the girl out and set her on the ground. She immediately clutched Melanie’s hand.
    When they stepped through the gate, Melanie caught the look of surprise in Mike’s eyes when he spotted the cans filled with vines.
    “Been working, I see,” he said.
    “For hours.”
    “It’s a start,” he said grudgingly.
    Melanie stared at him. “That’s all you have to say?”
    A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s all you’ve done.”
    Because Jessie was regarding them with another worried frown, Melanie held back the sharp retort she wanted to make. Instead, she asked, “Why are you here, Mike? Did you stop by just to annoy me?”
    “Actually we came because we’re going to a nursery over in White Stone. I thought you might want to ride along and get some ideas.”
    Melanie gave him a wry look. “Don’t you think I should get rid of what I have before I start thinking about what to put in the ground?”
    “Never hurts to plan ahead. Bring that picture you showed me. I’ll show Jessie the swing while you get it.”
    His arrogant assumption that she would fall in with his plans was almost enough to force a rebellion, but something about Mike Mikelewski’s quiet determination to restore her grandmother’s gardens got to her. Since he hadn’t asked for a dime for his advice or his help, she had to assume it was because he