Page 2 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)

“No shame needed. Mom didn’t want a funeral, so there was nothing to miss.”

“That right?”

I sigh as I recall the conversation I had with Mom about how she wanted things to go once she passed.

“She hated being the center of attention, and she knew how much I hate it too. I told her I’d honor her however she wanted, funeral included.

I’d give a speech, do an interpretive dance, anything.

But she said no. She told me to spread her ashes someday in a place that meant something to me, and that was it. ”

Lindsay chuckles. “Typical Rita. Selfless with a heart of gold.”

“Yeah.” I swallow down a wave of unshed tears as I watch the cars speed by on the highway. “Did you think we’d end up here?”

“Where, this place? Or, like, here in life? Because if it’s the former, hell yeah. Their shoestring fries aren’t too salty, or too crispy, and they have that squishy soft middle without being undercooked. Do you know how difficult it is to nail that balance? Few restaurants can.”

I didn’t know that. I also don’t care. Fries are like pizza to me. You put any variety of them in front of me, and I will devour them with gusto. “The latter.”

She considers this while studying the pale pink tips of her polished nails.

“A forty-one-year-old single mom living in Boston, with saggy titties and legs covered in spider veins, sharing custody with a dumbass who used to shout, ‘That’s how Billy do!’ whenever he blew his load?

No. This is not where I thought I’d end up. ”

A smirk tugs at my lips. She’s being self-deprecating, when really, she should be proud as hell. She’s been successful in her career as far as I know, and at least she has a kid.

I got close to that. Once. The kid, the husband, the happy ending. I almost had it.

Before I can dwell on the memories, she adds, “Who gives a shit? I had goals when we were in college for how I wanted my life to turn out, but nothing happened the way I thought it would. There’s no blueprint for where you’re supposed to be because life isn’t a straight line.

It’s a bunch of loops and dips and a few messy, tight knots that seem like they’ll suffocate you before you can smooth them out. ”

She’s right. When I see friends from school on social media, a lot of them are hitting milestones in the “correct” order: the job, the wedding, the family, the house, yada, yada, but I’m also seeing divorces, custody battles, moving back in with Mom and Dad, fresh starts, career changes, and the like.

Just because you get the white picket fence doesn’t mean you’ll get to keep it.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Did you quit that fancy corporate job in Boston?”

“Nah, I took the week off. My grandmother died,” she says with a sigh.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t be. Nonna Penny was ninety-seven years old. She went in her sleep. Couldn’t ask for a better ending.”

Indeed. I hope that’s how I go out.

“My dad and I were worried a few months ago because it seemed like her mind was starting to go. We went to visit her, and she kept having these conversations with herself. It was odd. We even scheduled an appointment with the doctor, but she passed before we could get her in.”

“Huh. That is strange.”

“She left me her house in Mapletown. Have you been up there? The town square has a boulder and gazebo surrounded by a couple shops and dense forest. The town itself is fucking tiny, and the house is…” Lindsay pauses, “a big place, more like a mansion, really, but everything inside is hideous and partially broken.” She puts her elbows on the table and drops her head in her hands.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. ”

“What do you mean? Sell it. A big house in the middle of the mountains in northern New Hampshire? Even in rough condition, I’m sure there’s a leaf peeper or vacation rental host who’d see its potential and pay way too much for it.”

“Yeah, but I’d have to get her stuff out of there and have repairs done before a realtor can start showing it, and how am I supposed to manage that when I work close to sixty hours a week in Boston? That’d be a two- maybe three-hour commute each way.”

“There’s no way you could work remotely? Even for a short time?”

She shakes her head. “They’d let me if I wanted to, but I have so many clients in the city that I’d still have to see, so it wouldn’t make sense. Plus, Jackson’s in school, and it’s not like I can rely on Billy to help out.”

The server comes and takes our order: two chocolate milkshakes, two waters, a Reuben for me, a buffalo chicken sandwich for her, and another large order of fries for us to split. Even twenty years later, our order is the same.

“Where are you living now?” she asks. “The same place you shared with Rita?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Um, yeah, but not for much longer.” The last thing I want to do is dump my financial woes on Lindsay. Yet, the words come out anyway. “I’m getting evicted.”

Lindsay gasps. “The fuck? Why? You were a neat freak even in college. What possible reason could someone have to throw you out?”

“It’s my fault. I haven’t been able to make rent the last few months. The landlord, Mr. Colson, has been kind enough to let it slide until now.”

Ugh, now I’m defending the man.

“What a fuc–” Lindsay says, then stops. A few seconds pass, then several more.

Her mouth goes from an O shape to a wide, triumphant grin.

“Oh my god. I’ve got it, Nat. Are you ready?

I’m not sure you’re ready. Do you want to go to the bathroom first?

Because you are absolutely going to piss yourself when I tell you what I’m thinking. ”

She’s not nearly as crafty as she thinks she is. I wait for her to reveal her epiphany––knowing exactly what she’s about to suggest––but she continues to stare at me, as if she wants me to guess. “I’m ready,” I say, playing along. “What is it?”

“Okay. I have a house I don’t know what to do with, and you’re in need of a place to live.”

It’s not a terrible idea. I am desperate for a place to live. There are some snags in this plan, though. “How much would you charge me to stay there? When would I need to be out by?”

“Pfft, you don’t have to pay anything. I’m not going to charge you to stay in an old-ass house with an abundance of dusty knick-knacks and broken appliances.

I’m sure there are a million more desirable places for you to go, but if you’re in a pinch, take it.

You can stay as long as you want. It’ll make me feel better knowing the place isn’t just sitting there, slowly rotting. ”

My throat suddenly feels dry. Excitement courses through me at the prospect of not being homeless. I take a gulp of the milkshake the server just dropped off as I try to steady my thumping heart. “So, you’d be my landlord? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” It feels like a terrible idea.

She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “I’m your friend, and you’d be house-sitting until I have the mental capacity to decide what I want to do with it.”

I can’t hide my smile any longer.

Lindsay notices and mirrors my glee. “You in?”

Nodding, I reply, “Yeah, okay. I’m in.”