The Ghost Exterminator (11 page)

Chapter Sixteen: It’s My Party and I’ll Commune with the Dead If I Want To

“Wyatt, isn’t it? Did you know you have a pair of ghosts in your elbow?”

Wyatt looked down at the petite, dimpled blonde batting her baby blues up at him. He had been trying to avoid drawing attention to himself as the backyard filled with laughing and smiling guests. Jo had been recruited to help her sisters play hostess and Wyatt had taken to hiding near the big oak tree he had nearly cracked his skull falling out of earlier. He thought he had been doing an admirable job of pretending to be invisible until the slim blonde woman separated herself from the crowd and approached him.

“Yes, I did actually.”

“I’m Lucy.” Shirley Temple’s big sister redirected her smile toward his elbow. “Aren’t they just adorable? Where did you get them? I never get kids. I mostly get horny dweebs. Jake hates it. Says they don’t respect boundaries. Ghosts don’t. Respect boundaries, that is. But maybe he wouldn’t mind if they were cute. Yours are just darling.”

Wyatt couldn’t figure out which part of her monologue he was supposed to respond to, so he stated the obvious. “You’re the bride.”

“Guilty as charged.” Lucy flashed her dimples at him again. “You’re here with Jo, aren’t you? I’m
so
glad she found someone who isn’t wigged out by the ghost thing. She does not have a healthy relationship with her spirits, in my opinion. Being involved with a man who has ghosts of his own is the best thing for her. Although, I’m just dying to ask, why do you keep them in your elbow? Sort of an odd place, isn’t it?”

“I don’t keep them. I can’t get them out.” When she just blinked at him uncomprehendingly, he clarified. “I’m not a ghost person.”

Lucy’s open, sunshine-and-roses expression closed and darkened in the blink of an eye. “You aren’t? What are you?”

“I’m a businessman.”

Her face twisted with distaste. “Oh.” Then she took a deep breath and her good cheer returned, albeit with visible effort. “Well, that’s just peachy. My cousin Kim is married to an investment banker. You should talk to him. Come on.”

Before he could protest that he would
really
rather stay hidden in the trees for the rest of his natural life, Lucy latched onto his arm and dragged him through the mass of guests toward the pool, chattering brightly the entire way.

She pulled him to a stop beside one of the buffet tables in front of a balding man in a bright blue polo shirt with one of the small blonde people clinging to his leg. “Scott!” she exclaimed, absently reaching out to tweak the little blonde girl’s nose. “This is Jo’s, um, well, this is Wyatt. He’s a businessman. Try the scones. I made them myself.”

Lucy then released his arm and dove back into the crowd where she could be heard asking everyone she passed if they had seen Jo.

Scott gave an easy laugh and extended his hand for Wyatt to shake. “Don’t mind Lucy. All of the Banks and Cartwright girls are more energetic than logical.” Retrieving his hand, he ruffled the curls of the blonde hanging onto his hip. “You get used to it. What kind of business did Lucy say you were in?”

“She didn’t,” Wyatt replied, wondering exactly how Jo fit into the energetic, illogical mold Scott described. “I’m in hospitality. Haines Hideaways.”

Scott’s eyebrows flew up and he gave a nod of respect. “Impressive growth portfolio. I own a few shares myself. What do you do for them?”

Everything. Or at least he had, before he’d been infected with Jo’s ghost insanity. He didn’t even know how the stock had closed yesterday. “This and that. Overseeing renovations, paperwork, the odd ceremonial ribbon-cutting. I’m Wyatt Haines.”

Scott gave another, deeper nod of respect. He opened his mouth, doubtless to say something about dividends or profit margins that would make more sense to Wyatt than anything he’d heard in the last thirty-six hours, but the small blonde person attached to his leg chose that moment to interrupt.

“Daddy, can I go swimming yet?”

Scott made a show of looking at his watch and held up a hand with all of his fingers outstretched. “Five more minutes.”

Kids made about as much sense to him as ghosts did, so Wyatt quickly brought the conversation back to an understandable footing. “I have a ribbon-cutting on Monday, in fact. The Orchard Hollow Hideaway.”

“Will there be candy?”

Wyatt frowned down at the little girl. “Why would there be candy?”
Business was serious. No candy involved.

“It’s Halloween. You have to have candy. I’m going to be a fairy princess. My wings are purple.”

“Good for you,” Wyatt responded brusquely.

He turned his attention back to the father who gave his daughter a pat on the shoulder, sending her toward the pool. “You can swim now, but no big splashes. Auntie Beth would have my hide if I let you drench her catering efforts.”

As Wyatt waited for Scott to finish watching his daughter bounce off to collect her swimming buddies, his eyes suddenly felt heavy and his thoughts sluggish. He’d spent most of the night trying to stay awake without much success. Not the most restful way to sleep. Wyatt tried to shake away his sudden exhaustion, and then turned to Scott with a weary smile. “Buy you a cup of coffee?”

Scott laughed. “Tell you what, since it’s free, the coffee’s on me.”

“Jo Ellen Regina Banks, what kind of person wears
jeans
to a social function?”

“Hello, Mother.”

The elder Elizabeth Banks, “Betsy to my friends”, did nothing so demonstrative as frown disapprovingly at her youngest child, although the subtle hint of martyrdom tainted her features. “I suppose this new hairstyle is your latest rebellion.”

Jo smiled cheekily. “Do you like it? Bethie cut it.”

Her mother pursed her lips for only a second, barely long enough to crease the frown lines around her mouth. “Bethie is so busy with her life. Poor dear, she is out of practice. Although I suppose it could be worse.”

The “though I can’t imagine how” hung in the air unspoken between them. Jo always marveled that her mother could include so many searing non-verbal indictments into an everyday conversation—and this was a variation on a conversation they had
every
day. At least every day they saw each other. The my-daughter-is-ruining-my-reputation-by-turning-herself-into-a-freak-woe-is-me conversation.

And, as always, despite her best intentions to the contrary, Jo heard herself explaining herself to her mother, looking, as always, for that illusive hint of approval. Or at least a lessening of the disapprobation. “I had a work emergency and couldn’t go home to change before the party,” she explained. “I thought Lucy wouldn’t mind if I went a little casual as long as I’m here.”

“Of course she wouldn’t
say
so,” Betsy Banks said. “Lucy was brought up right and a well-brought-up young lady would never be so gauche as to tell you that your attire was beneath acceptable standards.”

Of course not. That’s what mothers are for
, Jo thought wryly. “I’m not going to go home and change, Mom.”

“I should hope not. What would be the point? You’ve already made the impression you’re going to make.”

Jo gritted her teeth and tried to think non-matricidal thoughts. She loved her mother. She did. Really.

“Jo!”

Thank God. Lucy
.

“I just left your Wyatt. Did you know he’s a businessman?”

Jo smiled in spite of herself. She adored her cousin. Lucy was the one person in the world who accepted her exactly as she was. It was heavenly to feel normal for a while. “I did know that, believe it or not. How did you find out?”

“He told me!” Lucy exclaimed, as if Wyatt had spontaneously confessed to being a serial killer. “Where did you find him?”

“You’re here with a businessman?” her mother asked, her ears pricking up at such normalcy.

Jo felt a stab of irritation. She knew it was spiteful and ridiculous to be annoyed by how well Wyatt fit in at Bethie’s suburban utopia, but she couldn’t help it. He had her mother’s automatic approval because he was so obviously normal. Her own mother thought Jo was a crackpot, but Wyatt might as well have been the son she’d never had.

“Jo Ellen, why didn’t you say anything?” Mama Banks asked, smiling delightedly at her youngest child. “A businessman!”

Jo gritted her teeth. She didn’t want her mother to accept her just because Wyatt was normal enough for the both of them. If anything, that made her feel even more like the crazy one. She was tempted to tell her mother about the ghosts in Wyatt’s elbow just to wipe the satisfied smirk off her face. Then Lucy saved her the trouble.

“I didn’t think he was your type, but then I saw the ghosts. They are just the most adorable things ever!” Lucy gushed. “Where did he get them?”

And just like that Mama Banks’ hopes were dashed.

“Haunted house,” Jo said. “He owns this really cool old Victorian that’s filled to the rafters. You could talk yourself hoarse and not transcend half of them.”

Lucy turned and stretched up on her tiptoes to see through the crowd to where Wyatt and Scott were talking near the pool. “Even considering the adorable ghosts, I have to admit I’m surprised you brought him here. Though I suppose he is hot, in an anal yuppie sort of way.”

“Who’s hot?”

Jake Cox appeared at Lucy’s side with a mock-jealous growl and Jo found herself wallowing in jealousy of her own. Not because she wanted Jake for herself—although he was undeniably gorgeous with a bad-boy chic style that was much more to her taste than Yuppie Boy—but because he looked at Lucy like she was the only woman in the world. Jo could practically see Lucy’s insteps melting under the heat in Jake’s eyes.

Wyatt would never look at me like that.

When Jo realized what she’d just thought, she could have kicked herself for the stupid sentimentality of it. The last thing she needed was her subconscious deciding Wyatt Haines was her go-to-guy for mushy romantic fantasies. She needed to keep her distance, keep her cool, and keep her pants on. He made her feel crazy—and not in a good way.

Lucy didn’t seem to notice Jo’s latest Wyatt-related internal crisis. She tucked herself up against Jake’s side and answered him. “Jo’s new boy toy is a cutie.”

Jo groaned. “Luce, he’s a client.”

“So was Jake,” Lucy said with a dimpled grin. “A little business, a little pleasure…”

“He’s a client?” her mother exclaimed in horror. “You brought a client to a family event?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Lucy doesn’t mind. Do you, Luce?”

“’Course not. His ghosts are adorable. You have to see his ghosts, Jake. You’ll love them.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered.

“No, really, they’re very—”

Whatever Lucy thought they were was cut off by a startled male shout and a splash. They all spun in the direction of the pool.

“Scott!” Kimmie screamed, rushing toward the figure flailing in the pool.

Jo couldn’t take her eyes off of the figure standing at the edge of the pool, calmly sipping a cup of coffee. “Oh, no.
Wyatt
.”

“That isn’t Wyatt,” Lucy corrected. She grabbed Jo’s arm as they both sprinted toward the pool and the ghostly party crashers.

Chapter Seventeen: Impromptu Pool Party!

Wyatt blinked sleepily and was immediately flooded with dread. He decided it was a bad sign that he was starting to get used to waking up in strange places. Standing next to a pool, sipping a cup of coffee, was not how he usually woke up in the morning. Traditionally, he also avoided having blonde cheerleader-dictators screeching at him and large quantities of strangers staring at him in shock and horror as a man he had been talking to immediately before falling asleep fished himself out of a pool.

Another post-hypnotic suggestion. Or, as was looking terrifyingly more likely, the ghosts had taken over again. And the little bastards hadn’t even stuck around to get their come-uppance. Now everyone thought
he
had thrown Jo’s brother-in-law in the pool.

“Wyatt?” Jo appeared at his side and peered closely at him. “Oh, good, it’s you.”

It was a bad sign when he couldn’t even ask who else it would be. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Kim shrieked before Jo could reply. “What
happened
? You attacked my husband is what happened!”

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “Oops.”

“
Oops?
”

“Chill out, Kimmie. It’s not like Scott was in danger of drowning. The pool’s only five feet deep.”

“That isn’t the point, Jo Ellen! You don’t just go around throwing perfectly innocent men into pools.”

“Maybe Wyatt thought it was a pool party,” Jo muttered under her breath.

As Kimmie started to turn purple and hyperventilate, Beth stormed up. “The food! The food is all soaked! You told me this wouldn’t be a problem, Jo! You said that
he
wouldn’t be a problem.”

“He isn’t a problem!” Jo shouted and Wyatt was taken aback by her vehemence, not to mention the fact that she was actually defending him.

Beth and Kim were visibly gearing up to say more when a pack of kids in bathing suits rushed past him from the direction of the house, jumping into the pool en masse and temporarily diverting their mothers.

“Dinah! Maya! Out of the pool this instant! Who said you could go swimming?”

“Uncle Scott said!” the oldest of the pack, evidently the elected spokesperson, piped up.

“Well, Uncle Scott doesn’t make the rules, does he?”

Jo tugged gently on Wyatt’s arm as he watched the drama unfolding beside the pool, along with everyone else at the party. So much for inconspicuous.

“Come on. Let’s make a break for it while they’re distracted.”

Wyatt looked down at her and arched his eyebrows. “Coward.”

“Nuh-uh,” she denied, shaking her head. “I’ve had twenty-six years with those two to learn the value of a strategic retreat. Come on. Don’t worry, if you still want to be chewed out, I’m sure they’re going to follow us. I just thought my mother might appreciate it if we took the drama to a smaller stage.”

Jo grabbed his hand and led him around the side of the house, out of the range of prying eyes. At the sound of footsteps behind them, Wyatt turned and saw Lucy and a large, dark man following them. Lucy winked at him and sent him a finger-wave as she tripped along hand-in-hand with the six-plus feet of unruffled cool that must be Karma’s
baby
brother.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere out of the range of breakables and projectiles.” Jo stopped in the middle of the front yard. “This’ll do.”

Wyatt looked around him, wondering what Jo saw in this patch of grass that he was missing. They were about twenty feet from the front of the house and equidistant from the street where a row of parked cars for the party shielded them somewhat from the eyes of curious passersby, but they were still in full sight of any of the nearby houses should Beth’s neighbors suddenly get curious. “This’ll do for what?”

Jo shoved up the sleeves on her borrowed blouse and faced him squarely. “I think it’s about time these ghosts of yours and I had a little talk.”

Wyatt winced. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

Jo smiled wickedly, but Lucy was suddenly at his side, patting his arm in a conciliatory way. “You won’t feel a thing,” she promised cheerfully before joining Jo facing him. Jake wandered up to stand at Lucy’s other side, completing the supernatural firing squad effect.

Wyatt braced himself, but the attack didn’t come from the quarter he’d expected. Before Lucy and Jo could do their worst, the desperate housewife set stormed around the side of the house.

“This isn’t over, Jo Ellen! How dare you just walk away after your…your
man
nearly drowned my Scott?”

“The food is all soaked and you’ve absconded with the guests of honor!” Beth added her protest to Kim’s before Jo could respond.

Jo turned to tackle Beth’s grievances first. “Luce and Jake are here of their own free will. If you want to drag them back to the party, you are welcome to try. And if you didn’t want the food to get all wet, you shouldn’t have put the banquet tables
right next to the frickin’ pool
, Elizabeth.”

“No one was supposed to go
in
the pool, Jo Ellen!”

“Except all the kids, right? Because I’m pretty sure Wyatt didn’t tell them they could go swimming.”

“I didn’t,” Wyatt quickly swore—actually having no idea what he had said while the ghosts were controlling him, but unwilling to take responsibility for anything for which there weren’t validating witnesses.

“See? So, I’m sorry about the food. Wyatt is sorry about the food. I’m sure Scott is sorry about the food. You want me to order out for pizza? Wyatt knows this really good place that delivers—”

“
Pizza?
” Bethie shrieked. “You want to replace quiche Florentine and lemon-grilled salmon with
pizza
?”

“Geez, Bethie, it’s not like anyone was eating the food anyway. You know what mom says, ‘Grazing at a party is for the ill-bred.’ So you’ve just improved everyone’s breeding by removing temptation. Congratulations.”

“I cannot believe we’re related,” Bethie snarled as she spun on her heel and marched back toward the backyard, leaving angry divots in the grass with every step.

“Yeah, me neither,” Jo muttered under her breath, turning to Lucy. “Do you think it’s possible we’re changelings? It would explain so much.”

“Except for why Grandma Regina talks to ghosts.”

Jo wrinkled her nose. “Well, yeah. I guess there is that.” She turned to her other sister, who was standing by with her arms folded tightly across her chest, and steam all but pouring out of her ears. “Thanks for waiting your turn, Kim.”

“I want a reckoning,” Kim growled in a fair imitation of the kid from
The Exorcist
.

Jo sighed heavily. “Kimmie, he’s sorry. Look at him, doesn’t he look contrite?”

Wyatt did his best to look obsessively contrite.

“See? Is that the face of a man intent on drowning people? I think not. Scott can swim. The pool is shallow. The worst possible interpretation is that it was a practical joke in very poor taste, but I can guarantee you that the last thing
Wyatt Haines
would do is push your husband into the pool. I am absolutely positive that as far as
Wyatt
is concerned, it was a complete accident.”

Not unlike her hair had been.

Kim was not mollified. “Grown men do not go around throwing one another into pools.”

Jo snorted. “Kim, Scott was in a fraternity. I somehow doubt this is the first time he has been thrown into a pool. I’m willing to bet he’s been the thrower a time or two, as well. Which is possibly why he isn’t the one out here haranguing us.
He
knows this isn’t a big deal. A little male bonding gone wrong. No big.”

“It most certainly is big!” Kim protested. “This was Lucy and Jake’s day, Jo Ellen! Is it so much to ask to have one normal family event without your—”

Lucy raised her hand like a schoolgirl to interrupt Kim’s diatribe. “You know, Jake and I really don’t mind. I actually think Wyatt’s ghosts are kind of cute.”

“Ghosts!” Kim shrieked, loud enough that people back at the party could admire the decibel level. “I am sick of everyone humoring you, Jo! There is no such thing as ghosts!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo saw Wyatt’s posture change as a uniform green glow washed over his body. “You’re absolutely right,” Jo agreed abruptly. “I’m nuts. Luce and Jake and Karma and everyone else who talks to spirits, we’re all whack jobs. Congratulations. You caught us. So why don’t you head on back to the normal party and leave the crazies to their own devices?”

Kim’s eyebrows drew down in a threatening glare as she dug in her designer heels. “If you think I’m just going to walk away…”

Wyatt’s body took a step toward her sister and Jo decided not to wait to hear whatever baseless threat Kim had dreamed up. Her middle sister had always been all talk and no action. Kimmie was the most likely to go for a screaming hissy fit, but Bethie’s wrath was a thing to fear. Bethie carried a grudge and was diabolically creative when it came to vengeance. Jo had learned from the best.

She needed to get Kim out of there before Wyatt’s ghosts got creative in their attempts to prove their existence.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Jo said. “But if you don’t leave us alone and go back to the party right now, I’m going to have to tell Scott that you would only answer to Mrs. William T. Riker for three months during seventh grade.”

Kim visibly paled. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered in horror.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“He won’t believe it.” Kim’s eyes shuttled nervously back and forth.

“Even after I supply proof? You really shouldn’t have left your diaries lying around the house. Anyone could pick them up and Xerox a few pages for future blackmail.”

“You little thief!”

“Poor Scott. He thought he was marrying the Homecoming Queen, but instead he got saddled with a closet Trekkie.”

Kim screeched and fled back to the party as fast as her Jimmy Choos could carry her.

“I never knew Kim liked
Star Trek
,” Lucy said conversationally once they were alone again.

Jo shrugged. “You were younger and didn’t have to live in the same house with her. I love me some
Star Trek
, but having to ask Mrs. Riker to pass the salt got old in a hurry.”

“Why do you like
Star Trek
so much?” Wyatt asked suddenly.

“Back with us, are you?” Jo gave the no-longer-glowing Wyatt a grin. “I love
Star Trek
because no matter what freaky shit was happening, no matter what wormhole or alternate dimension they stumbled into, they took it in stride and treated it like it was totally normal. Some of the crew weren’t even human, but they were accepted for what they were. The world should be more like
Star Trek
.”

“Here here,” Lucy raised an imaginary glass in mock toast, grinning. “To the crazies, long may they rave!”

Jo laughed. “And on that note, let’s talk to some ghosts.”