Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Annoyed already and it was barely nine in the morning, Natalie made her way to the room she'd allotted in the shop to be used for book club meetings.

The ghosts were already there, filling the seats comprised of the used furniture she'd gotten from Red's Resale shop.

Gabe sat on the sofa. Ricky in the wooden chair at the head of what was usually a refreshment table. Harriet, who'd been lucky enough to die of natural causes at a ripe old age, perched in the upholstered chair, which left the matching seat open for Natalie.

Ricky eyed her before pointedly glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner.

She followed his gaze and frowned. "That clock runs fast."

It showed her five minutes late when the time on her cell said she was right on time.

"Mm-hm." Ricky scowled.

"It does!" With a scowl of her own, she leaned back in her chair.

No use arguing smartphone accuracy versus that of antique time pieces with a man who'd taken two shots to the chest for allegedly cheating at cards well over a decade before the first iPhone had been released. But she could argue this…

"Where's Train Track Tim?" she asked. "He's late too."

"Tim's visiting friends in Afton," Ricky informed her.

Although how Tim, who lacked a jaw—train accident—had conveyed that information to him, she couldn't guess.

After pointedly drawing his gaze away from Natalie, Ricky addressed the others in the room. "Now that we're finally all here, I officially call our monthly meeting of the Mudville Ghost Council to order at nine-oh-six a.m.."

It wasn't really nine-oh-six, but whatever. She leaned back in the chair, crossed her arms and held tight to her coffee cup.

"Do we have any new business?" Ricky asked, glancing around the room.

First of all, how had this meeting gotten so official? She should have nipped the formalities in the bud months ago, rather than letting Ricky and the ghosts have their way. Too late now.

But as a matter of fact, she did have some new business.

"I do." Natalie raised her hand, somehow succumbing to the official feel of this meeting.

"The chair recognizes Natalie."

"Thank you. There was this horse galloping down Main Street?—"

Ricky nodded. "I saw."

Of course he would. His home base, so to speak, was in the old cemetery on Main Street.

"Okay. So do we know who the horse belongs to? It could have gotten loose from one of the farms. In which case I hope the owner secured how it got out before it gets hurt on Main Street?—"

Ricky snorted. "It's not going to get hurt."

Relieved, she asked, "So it had a rider?"

"Oh, yes." He nodded.

Ricky wasn't being all that forthcoming, so she asked, "Who owns it?"

"There's no owner, Nat," Gabe said.

"It's a ghost horse," Harriet finally explained when the men weren't more helpful.

Natalie's eyes widened. "A ghost horse?"

Holy shit! As if seeing human ghosts wasn't enough, now there were animal ghosts as well?

And if there were, why was this the first she was seeing one? These were the kind of questions she would have normally asked Gabe, except he was being less communicative than usual.

"Those exist?" she asked, grateful she had the rest of the ghost council to ask. They were still talking to her at least.

Ricky nodded. "Yes, they exist."

She swallowed, a little afraid to ask this question, but she did anyway. "And the rider?"

"I didn't see it, but it's probably Sybil," Harriet said, with a glance at the others in the room, who nodded.

"Sybil is the horse?" Natalie asked, at a loss.

"No, Sybil Ludington, the human, riding her horse. She's been known to be seen riding around here close to Halloween," Ricky explained.

"So she's a ghost too?" Natalie asked, just trying to get her facts straight.

After a huff, Gabe said, "Natalie, what do you think would happen if you sat on a ghost horse?"

"I'd pass right through."

"Exactly." He threw his hands in the air.

"She is a ghost too, yes," Harriet said, much more diplomatically.

All right, so maybe it had been a silly question. That didn't mean Gabe had to get so snippy about it.

"I'm sorry but I've never heard of this Sybil. And I thought it was the headless horseman who rode on Halloween," she said, glancing around the room.

"The headless horseman is a Hessian soldier from the Revolutionary War and only rides in Sleepy Hollow," Gabe said.

"And that is only a legend, as far as I know. This is Sybil Ludington. And she's very real," Harriet added.

When Natalie showed no recognition of the name, Gabe continued, "She's the sixteen-year-old girl version of Paul Revere. In 1777 she rode forty miles from her home in New York to rally her father's troops against the British. She died right here in this very town in 1839."

She shook her head. "You can spew all the dates at me you want but I'm telling you I've never heard of her."

Gabe, a former history teacher—before his death—scowled. "Pick up a book once in a while, Nat. You're surrounded by more books than half of the spirits in the graveyard had ever seen during the entire duration of their lifetimes and all you read—when you read at all—are trashy romance novels."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Pick on her for not reading more. Fine. She was overworked and tired but yes, she could pick up a book rather than reach for the television remote control at the end of a long day. Agreed. Guilty. But do not slam the romance genre.

She was about to lecture him about that when it hit her. The possible reason for Gabe's foul mood.

"Where's Millie?" she asked.

He drew back at the abrupt change of subject. "What?"

"I haven't seen you with Millie lately. And she's not here now. Where is she? Oh my God. You two didn't break up, did you? Is that why you're so cranky?"

"No. We didn't break up. And I'm not cranky." Gabe scowled.

The rest of the spirits reacted to various degrees that indicated they agreed more with Natalie's assessment than with Gabe's denial.

"She's just visiting her family in Sharon Springs," he explained defensively.

"Wait. She can travel? I thought you all couldn't move from where your body was."

Natalie remembered the two female ghosts tethered to their bodies in Liam's lab. They'd left—thank God—when he'd sent their cadavers back to wherever bodies donated to science went. And not a moment too soon. It seemed their only pastimes had been being rude to Natalie and spying on Liam.

"It seems like the closer we get to Halloween, the more leeway we have," Ricky explained. "Which is why Sybil, who's buried a couple of hours drive from here, can travel back here to where she died. But only during October."

"Yes," Harriet agreed. "It feels like the period of time that starts right around the first day of autumn straight through to All Saints Day?—"

"Or Día de Muertos ," Ricky added.

Harriet nodded and continued, "—extends our boundaries, so to speak."

The rules of the ghost world were still very hazy to her, and to them apparently too, based on how they were talking. She was still going to try to talk to Gabe alone. Make sure he was just missing his girlfriend and it was nothing more serious… and now she was a ghost relationship counselor too. Too bad she wasn't getting paid for any of this.

"Next on the agenda—" Ricky began.

"Wait? We have an agenda now?" Natalie asked, guessing that her business had officially been dismissed.

A fast rapping on the window interrupted whatever Ricky had on his ghost agenda. Natalie whipped her head around to see Alice Mudd, pressed against the glass peering in like a kid at a candy store.

Ricky let out a huff at the interruption.

"I have to deal with Alice," she said out of the side of her mouth, hoping Alice couldn't see her speaking, again, to no one.

"Go ahead." Rick scowled.

What did he have to be upset about? She was the one who looked like she was sitting in the meeting room alone talking aloud to herself. Maybe she should just tell people the truth. At times like this it almost seemed easier than all the lying.