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her
pale face seeming to float like an island in the middle of the
black frame of her hair. “I know you’ll be a huge success running
your own business. Do you think I could conduct a séance at the
mansion some night?”
    I blinked to bring her into focus.
“Fine with me. I’ll have to clear it with Veronica,
though--she is my business
partner.” I glanced at my wineglass. It was mysteriously
empty.
    We finished dinner listening to Kyle tell us how he’d
stuffed a whole raccoon family for a friend to display in his
living room, but his friend’s fiancée objected. To save their
relationship, he had to move the furry family to his garage.
    When we finally headed out, Patty and I rode in the
back and Kyle and Herman sat up front. Patty, holding my arm to
steady me, walked me to my door. She had to unlock it for me.
    She pushed the door open, and before I could
disappear inside, she said, “Hey, I meant what I said. I think it’s
super you’re moving on to start a new business. You deserve better
than Odell’s store.”
    Heat rose to my face. “About that ghost
hunting. It’s just a story.”
    “I know, but what a story. Ghosts roaming the
halls? Screams coming from upstairs? You can’t miss,” she trilled,
handing me my key. “See you tomorrow at work, okay?”
    “Wait.” Had I said anything about ghosts in
the halls? I couldn’t remember.
    She was already halfway down the steps. She
turned with a questioning look and I waved her on. I’d straighten
things out in the morning. I knew Patty would understand why I’d
made up the story—she hadn’t taken to Herman any more than I
had.
    Still tipsy, I got ready for bed. When I saw
Veronica again, I’d tell her she was right. I didn’t need blind
dates, especially not when they were arranged by Patty. What was it
she wanted me to do? Convince Steve we belonged together? That
wouldn’t happen, but maybe I could learn to flirt a little.
    My thoughts drifted in an alcohol-fueled
haze. What if we started going out and Steve wanted more than a
date or two? What if our friendship progressed to a relationship
and he eventually wanted something else, what my mother would call
an affair? Would I go along or would I hold out for marriage? If I
were being true to my upbringing, I’d hold out for marriage.
    But if I were being honest, I’d have to say I
was definitely interested in the something else, even if we ended
up drifting apart after a few months. After all, marriages didn’t
always work out, as I well knew. Why should I give up a chance to
be with a nice, interesting man simply because he wouldn’t put a
ring on my finger? Wasn’t a fling better than a commitment to the
wrong person?
    I tried to bring up a picture of Steve in my
mind and couldn’t remember what he looked like. About all I came up
with was an especially bland smiley face with receding brown
hair.

Chapter Four
     
    I awoke to the racket of my alarm clock. I
lay in bed for nearly five minutes trying to unglue my eyelids
before I was able to reach across to the nightstand and smash the
off button.
    I had to think to remember where I was. When
I did remember, thoughts flooded into my mind and heat flooded my
face. Had I really drunk too much wine last night? Had I really
transformed myself from my own version of a southern lady--a person
who’d often been described by friends and family as sweet and
caring--into a mouthy braggart? Had I, the responsible one, managed
to win a know-it-all competition with a man I’d never see again?
Me, the mother of a college aged son, though everyone told me I
looked much too young to have an eighteen-year-old son. Apparently,
I acted it, too.
    What had I been thinking? At least, I told
myself as I scooted to the edge of the bed, I hadn't turned myself
into a southern slut--the worst type of woman according to
Mama.
    My head pounded and my mouth felt like
someone had stuffed it full of dirty cotton. I took two aspirin and
headed for the shower where I