Ghost a La Mode (7 page)

Seeing how great he looked and how happy he appeared to be with Carolyn and his new child, Emma wanted to swing the glass pitcher in her hand until it connected with the side of Grant's head. Something in her gut told her that her mother would forgive the transgression of propriety. And if she did any real damage, her father could patch Grant up.

Instead, Emma tossed her chin in Carolyn's direction. "Oscar looks healthy."

"Yes, he's getting to be a big boy." Grant laughed. "I'd forgotten how much work a baby is. And how noisy."

Emma didn't share his amusement. Grant noticed and moved the conversation forward.

"Emma, we need to get our affairs in order so that the divorce can be finalized."

"I couldn't agree more, Grant."

He looked at her with frank surprise. "Really? You're ready to move forward?"

"As soon as possible." She finished with the lemonade and put down the pitcher. She looked directly into Grant's eyes, hoping hers conveyed a hardness that meant business. "But please don't read my compliance as a sign I'm rolling over on the settlement. I will take nothing less than half of our assets. Half, Grant. And that includes half of that monstrosity of a house. Plus the support for Kelly and her education."

"But Emma, you hate that house. I bought it. I should keep it."

"Then keep it, Grant," she hissed. "But I want half its value. Even in today's market, the appraisal should be pretty substantial."

"Then you can just finance Kelly and her education out of your half of the settlement." Though Grant's voice remained low, it was challenging and spiteful.

Before responding, Emma's mind calculated a fair proposal. She didn't want anything but what was fair from Grant Whitecastle. "Tell you what, Grant. We will split Kelly's education and support-fifty-fifty-providing I receive half of all our assets. You try hiding anything, and I'll go for a hell of a lot more. Play fair, and I'll be fair. And, as I recall, it was your attorney, not mine, who stonewalled last time. Bring him in line and give him his marching orders."

"That's telling him."

The comment startled Emma. It had not come from Grant, and the two of them were the only ones on the patio. But the minute she heard the sound, she knew what it was. It was a voice, but not a voice made of warm blood and a beating heart. She glanced around, straining to see any image or hazy form, but saw nothing.

"Be reasonable, Emma," Grant said.

She shook off what she thought she'd heard and returned her attention to him. "I am being reasonable, Grant. Half, or be prepared for a long siege."

Emma was surprised by her gutsiness. Not once since the divorce proceedings began had she spoken to Grant with such determination. She probably had never spoken to him like that. She could see he was surprised. She looked over at Carolyn again.

"You going to marry her?"

Grant nodded. "That's the plan. As soon as the divorce is final." He chuckled as if sharing a joke with Emma, hoping to lighten her mood. "What can I do? She's already planning the wedding."

Emma fixed him with an icy stare. "Half, Grant. Half of everything for me. And half of Kelly's support and education through graduate school. Then you can marry your bimbo. Otherwise, be prepared for a long, difficult time, both from me and from her." She jerked her head in Carolyn's direction. "I can just imagine what kind of tacky circus she's planning for a wedding."

"Kitty might be right about you after all."

Emma whipped her head around, side to side, at the sound of the words, trying in vain to catch a fleeting glimpse of Ish Reynolds. The ghost of Granny Apples had returned, and this time Emma was determined to speak with her.

Then she saw her.

Standing just off from Grant's left shoulder was a hazy transparent image with facial features and an outline, like a character in a child's coloring book waiting to be filled in. It was the same image Emma had seen that night at the Singh's. But instead of a scowl, this time Granny Apples offered Emma a smile of encouragement.

"We need to talk," she said to the apparition. The ghost nodded.

"We are talking, Emma," Grant said in a testy manner. "At least I was talking. You were giving commands and issuing threats."

Emma kept her eyes on Granny Apples. "I'm not talking to you, Grant."

Grant Whitecastle turned to look in the direction of Emma's gaze. He saw nothing.

He stepped to the side, in front of her eyes, blocking her view of the ghost. "First you say we need to talk, then you say you're not talking to me. Which is it?"

Emma returned her attention to Grant. "You, Grant, I'm through with," she announced. "You heard what I had to say. The lawyers can take it from here"

Looking around Grant, Emma no longer saw Granny Apples. She scanned the back yard until she spotted her moving through the collection of guests seated at the scattered white tables. The image, like a small column of fog, drifted here and there amongst the living. When it stopped next to Elizabeth Miller's seated form, Emma gave a slight gasp.

"You okay, Emma?" asked Grant.

"Mmm, yes, Grant." With reluctance, she tore her eyes away from the ghost. "I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind lately with Kitty dying and Kelly graduating and getting her ready for the trip with you." She paused, then added, "Not to mention the destruction of my twenty-year marriage."

Grant let loose with a long, dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, something that seemed to be a family trait.

Emma returned her sights to the party guests and tried to locate the ghost once again. Ish had left Elizabeth's side and had moved close to Carolyn Bryant and Oscar. She hovered there. In a moment of panic, Emma realized she didn't know much about ghosts and what they could and couldn't do. Was Granny Apples capable of harming living beings? Would she harm Carolyn, knowing that Carolyn was partly the cause of Emma's failed marriage?

Emma took two steps toward Carolyn, hoping to head off any possible problem, when she heard Grant say something. She stopped in her tracks and turned back to him.

"I'm sorry, Grant. What did you say?"

"I said, get over it, Emma. I'm never coming back."

She glanced over at Carolyn, relieved to see that Granny Apples had once again moved on. She was returning to the patio, moving like a puff of steam in Emma's direction. Trailing the ghost was Archie, ball in mouth, tail wagging. It seemed Archie was clairvoyant, too. Emma laughed.

"You think that's funny, Emma? You think I don't mean it?"

Throwing her good humor aside like an annoying cape, Emma turned on him. "I hope you do mean it, Grant. Otherwise, you've put me, Kelly, and both our families through a lot of pain for nothing."

Grant Whitecastle started to say something more, but Emma raised her hand, stopping him.

"Live your life, Grant, whatever way you wish to live it. All I want is what's mine. Half of our assets and half of Kelly's support and education. Nothing more, nothing less. And you'd better believe I mean it."

Appearing next to Grant, Granny caught Emma's eye and winked at her.

Grant stared at Emma. "What happened to you, Emma? You've become such a bitch."

"You happened to me, Grant."

As SOON AS THE clump of dark blond hair fell to the bathroom tile, Emma grabbed another handful. She sawed away at it with a large pair of scissors. Soon it was on the floor with the others, creating a soft miniature haystack. She stopped cutting just long enough to grab her wine glass and take a big swig. Then it was back to work with the shears.

"Darn Grant. Darn Carolyn. Darn ghost." Putting down the scissors, she refilled her glass from a half-empty bottle resting on the bathroom vanity.

The rest of the afternoon, Emma didn't see the ghost of Granny Apples again. But she did see how young and sexy Carolyn Bryant looked in her Juicy Couture and long red hair. Even the men who were appalled by Grant's behavior couldn't keep their eyes from caressing the young home wrecker. No matter how much bravado she'd displayed to Grant, Emma felt beaten, old, and used up next to Carolyn. As soon as the last of their guests had left, Emma helped clean up, then retreated to her room with the bottle of wine.

Kelly was gone, too. She was going to spend three weeks with Grant and Carolyn, most of it in Italy at the villa of a friend of theirs-or rather, a friend of Grant's. When she and Grant officially split up, most of their show-biz friends dropped Emma like a bad review. And since most of their socializing had been centered around Hollywood, that meant she'd left the marriage with no friends except for Tracy. It had been the harsh reality of being the castoff non-show-business spouse of a powerful TV personality.

Emma was taking another drink of wine when she heard a noise no louder than the rustle of leaves coming from her bedroom. It was accompanied by a slight chill in the air.

Without leaving the bathroom, she called out, "If that's you, Granny, tell me what you want straight out or don't come back. I'm having a breakdown here. I don't have time for your nonsense."

"I can tell you what Granny wants."

Emma spun around. Standing at the door between the bedroom and bathroom was Elizabeth Miller. She was freshly showered and dressed in a nightgown and matching robe the color of ripe apricots. Her silvery hair, worn in a becoming bob, framed her lovely and comforting face. Startled at the sight of her daughter's do-it-yourself hairdo, she raised a hand to her mouth. But just as quickly, she collected herself.

"I'm sorry, dear, for the intrusion. I knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me."

Wine glass in one hand, scissors in the other, Emma stood in front of her mother as if she'd been caught raiding the cookie jar. I was just ... um ... just...

"Having a breakdown?"

Instead of answering, Emma looked at her reflection in the mirror. On the left side of her head, her hair had been hacked off just below the ear. The right side was still shoulder length. Quiet tears started running down her cheeks at the carnage.

"Grant told me he liked my hair longer."

"So you thought you'd fix his wagon by cutting it off?"

When Emma shook her head, half of her hair moved. "Not really, Mother." She put down the scissors and wine glass. Grabbing a bunch of tissues from a nearby box, she wiped her face and nose. "I didn't cut it for revenge. At least I don't think so. Grant likes long hair. Look at Carolyn's hair. It's down the middle of her back."

"The tart was wearing hair extensions. I'll guarantee it."

Emma turned to give her mother a weak smile. "Maybe so, but I just didn't want to be the type of woman Grant Whitecastle likes anymore.

"Good for you."

Emma heard the words, but her mother's lips never moved. If Granny was here, she needed to get Elizabeth out of the way as fast as possible. She shifted her eyes side to side as casually as she could but saw nothing.

"Sit down, dear." Elizabeth pulled her robe tighter around her as if warding off a chill.

"Burt-," Emma stammered.

"Sit"

Emma sat in the small vanity chair as her mother picked up the scissors and stood behind her. They looked at their reflections in the mirror. Her mother gave her a look filled with encouragement.

"I'll just even this up for you." She started cutting the rest of Emma's hair. "Tomorrow you should go to my salon and have them style it properly."

Emma watched her mother in the mirror. She wanted to look around for Granny Apples but didn't dare.

After taking a couple of snips, Elizabeth said, "The ghost of Granny Apples was at the party today, wasn't she?"

"A ghost? Oh, Mother, don't be silly."

Elizabeth smiled at her daughter's reflection. "You never were a good liar, Emma." She made another snip at the back of Emma's head.

With a deep sigh, Emma searched her brain for something to say that would be truthful but not alarming. She need not have worried. Her mother was prepared.

"I well remember the distinct chill when Granny was near. Nothing quite like it, is there?"

Her mother didn't seem upset at all by the news that the ghost was back, so Emma came clean. "I didn't exactly invite her to the party, Mother, but I've been trying to reach her. She wants me to help her with something."