“Only confetti and a clown car would match my level of surprise.”
Had he been kidding when he’d said he’d left the house to me? I looked out the big bay window in the parlor overlooking the Sound at the choppy gray waters and blinked.
“And I guess you want to know why I’d leave my most treasured possession to you, and not a family member—or the DIY Channel.”
“I can’t make a decision. I mean, there are a whole list of pros and cons I need to make before I decide if I want to know why.”
“I left it to you because you need this house, and it needs you. And the afterlife says you need help, and, above all, you can be trusted.”
I scratched my head. “Is this your big afterlife pay-it-forward? Am I the charity case of the millennium to make up for all the charity cases you ignored in your former life? What are they feeding you in the afterlife to make such a big decision?”
Win scoffed at me. “I’m insulted you think I ignored charity while I was here on Earth. That cuts deep.”
“Do spies donate to charity?”
“You’d be surprised what we spies do for a good cause. Haven’t you ever heard of Spies For Tots? Never mind. Scratch that. No one’s supposed to know we exist.”
I fought a chuckle. “So why would you leave all this to me? You don’t even know me.”
“Honesty?”
“Should there ever be anything else between an ex-witch and the specter who’s attached himself to her like a boil on her butt?”
“The truth is, I can’t stand Sal. He’s a bag of utter dicks. He’ll turn this place into some ugly eyesore full of sterile chrome, white walls, and high-tech gadgets. Also, he’s awful. The kind of awful that kicks puppies and pulls walkers right out from under the elderly. A place like this needs attention to detail, Stevie; it needs to be filled with things from days gone by. It needs love. I didn’t have time to change my will before my untimely demise, but when I found this place just before I died, I’d already decided to do just that. I just ran out of time. But that’s all handled now.”
“It needs a whole lot more than love. It needs a backhoe.”
“Bite your tongue.”
I let my arms rest on my knees and looked at the sprawling home, most of which I hadn’t even seen yet. It could really be something, given serious attention. It could be a dream come true. My mind raced with the possibilities, the potential, but my life was a wreck. I didn’t have time to babysit contractors and subcontractors. I needed to find a job and some self-worth.
“Listen, it was really weird…nice, but weird of you to leave me your dilapidated fixer-upper, but in the interest of giving this house some love, love costs money. In this case, it’s going to cost a lot of money. I don’t have enough money for my lunch. I certainly don’t have enough to not only get a place like this up and running, but keep it running. So thanks, but you’d better start making dirty-dirty promises to another psychic to fix your will again. Oh, and while you’re hanging around the afterlife, please tell them thank you for the sterling references.”
I would smile at the trust and friendships I’d built over the years with many a spirit, but the loss was still so fresh, it felt wrong to feel anything but sorrow because it was just a memory and no longer my reality.
Still, Win wasn’t giving up. “I have money.”
Grabbing my purse, I began to make my way toward the front door, fully intending to take myself back to the hotel and come up with a plan B. Because this was on par with ludicrous. Who signed over all their money and possessions on the word of dead people to someone they didn’t even know?
“So you said. But I can’t access money from a man who essentially claims he doesn’t exist anywhere but in his head.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t exist. I said London would tell you they’d never heard of me. It doesn’t mean I can’t prove to you I have a bank account, Stevie, or that I didn’t see to it that all my money becomes yours.”
I reached for the rusty doorknob, only to watch it turn and seize up. Ah. I knew this sort of ghost. The kind who liked to play rough and dazzle me with his otherworldly powers.
I narrowed my eyes at the room. “You know, Winterbutt, under normal circumstances, I’d break out my wand and zap you right into plane eleven for even considering holding me hostage in this heap of a dump.”
“Scary, Stevie. What’s plane eleven?”
I smiled smugly. “The plane where anyone who’s willfully taken a life spends their eternity. Serial killers, mass murderers. You know; the typical types.”
“Then it’s a good thing for me petulant ex-witch’s wand is out of service.”