The Stuffing of Nightmares (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Book 7) Read Online Free PDF Page B

problems right now.
    “I know it’s hard to imagine,” Mark said softly,” but I’m sure something will come up to make this problem go away.”
    “I don’t think so,” she said, a little less snappish than before. Mark always had a soothing effect on her. She was prone to volcanic tempers, and only when at work at Town Hall was she able to keep those stormy emotions in check. Here at home, when it was just her and Mark, she didn’t bother trying to be nice and civil. She knew that he was man enough to take it, and calm her down with a simple gesture like this, or crack a joke to clear the air.
    “Well, I do think so,” he said, and she looked up into his eyes, wondering if there was something he knew that she didn’t.
    “What do you mean? Have you heard back from the bank?”
    He shook his head. “I’ve heard from your father.”
    Her jaw dropped. “My father?” Dad had died years ago. He’d been a disgrace to the family and had died destitute, living on the street. “How can you have heard from my father when he’s been dead for five years?”
    Mark shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin. “I had a dream that was so vivid it was practically as if he was in the same room with us.”
    “Last night?”
    “Last night.”
    It was odd, she felt. She’d also dreamed of her father, only her dream had been vaguer. He’d appeared before her, along with a legion of his seedy buddies, and then had vanished. “What did he say?” she asked trepidatiously.
    “He said that as long as we stick together, everything will be fine.” He was gently massaging her shoulders and neck. “And I believed him.”
    She thought for a moment. Only recently she’d shared an awfully weird adventure with other members of the Happy Bays neighborhood watch committee. She’d seen things that other people would deem impossible. Things that she had thought impossible until a short while ago. She’d seen ghosts, and they’d talked to her and had convinced her to throw out her old ideas of what was possible and impossible. Could it be that her father had appeared in their bedroom last night? And that Mark—always a light sleeper—had talked to him? She wouldn’t put it past the old coot. He’d been a pain in the patootie even when alive, so why would he be different when dead?
    “Did he tell you anything specific?” she asked, looking up at her husband.
    He shook his head, the crow’s feet around his eyes deepening as a smile creased his face. “Nope. But I believed him. I don’t know how or why, but I think all is not lost. We just might save this old house of ours after all.”
    She nodded. The mayor had suggested pulling some strings, but apparently his strings didn’t reach high enough to sway the powers that be. Happy Bays was just a small town, and Ted MacDonald only a small-town mayor. The owners of Armstrong & Tillich weren’t inclined to let their policies be swayed by the likes of some local politician. But could they be swayed by the cranky old ghost of an inveterate drunk and troublemaker?
    For the first time in weeks, hope surged in her bosom, and she allowed herself to be hugged by Mark. If her father was getting involved things might just turn around, she thought. And she sincerely hoped they would.

Chapter 9
    T here was something to be said for spending a summer morning on the beach, Reece thought. He’d been stretching his legs after his customary morning run when he spotted a gorgeous young woman walking out of the surf. The sunlight picked up every nuance and curvature of her body, and glittering droplets sprinkled down like a curtain of Swarovski diamonds. He involuntarily pursed his lips in admiration. If he hadn’t been engaged to Alice, he wouldn’t have minded making this beauty’s acquaintance.
    As it was, he was off the market, which of course didn’t prevent him from drinking her in with his eyes. To his surprise, she made a beeline for him, her tan and curvaceous body even more stunning