Page 113 of Ghostly

“No.” She tried rattling the fence, but the wrought iron wouldn’t give in. “What about the wedding? Dina! Don’t go!”

The women got into the car and drove away.

Ida folded into a heap by the fence. Did she want to know, anyway? Did she want more pain, hearing how happy Gabriel was with Wynona? She had her confirmation he’d gone and done what she told him to.

Be happy for him and letit rest.

The sun flew across the sky, and at last, Ida made it back to the house, gliding in a straight line with no regard to the walls. She sat on the couch and glanced at Shawn, eating a sandwich whose filling seemed to consist only of sauces.

Gabriel was done with her. Time for her to move on, too. She couldn’t move on to the great beyond—she’d gladly take that option—but shecouldmove on with her somewhat-life. Learn to enjoy what she had. Shawn, junk food, and chess. Perhaps one day, she’d even establish contact with her new tenant, become friends.

With one last sniff, Ida forced herself to smile, and looked at the TV.

“Oh, Antonov.” She tried to sound cheerful, even if it was only for her benefit. “Bet he’s gonna win again. Let’s see if he does it in record time.”

She settled deeper into the couch and watched.

Chapter 27

“But you do not have this so-called ‘testimony of true love’ on paper.” Gabriel paced in front of the witness stand.

Mr. Kletzman, soon to be Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy’s sixth ex-husband, dabbed his forehead. “Of course not! Would you have asked for written statements of everything your fiancée says? She wouldn’t even share her lasagna recipe on paper!”

“Move to strike the witness’ testimony after ‘Of course not’.” Gabriel looked to the judge. “Answer not relevant to the question.”

“Strike the statement from the record,” the judge said. “Mr. Kletzman, please respond to the question and the question only.”

“She wrote me a poem,” Kletzman said.

“A poem! Wonderful.” Gabriel went to the bench and leafed through his documents, holding back a smile. Poor Kletzman—ripe for the taking.And he’d enjoy it. “Filed under evidence as Exhibit C. Permission to bring it forward?”

“Permission granted,” the judge said.

Gabriel mouthed a “sorry” to Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy as a blown-up copy of the poem was exhibited.

“No worries.” She patted his hand. “Honestly, not even my worst work.”

Gabriel read the poem out loud—Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy took quite a lot of freedom with the free verse—and faced Kletzman. “Can you point to anything in the poem that specifies you should be entitled to a part of your wife’s fortune in case of a divorce?”

Mr. Kletzman remained silent.

“The witness will respond to the question,” the judge said.

“L-lines seven and eight. ‘I would give you the sun, the moon, and everything.’”

“Thank you. Exhibit C may be removed. No further questions.” Gabriel sat down next to Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy.

“Is that smart?” she whispered. “Wouldn’t you want to defend that line?”

“It’s clear to everyone how poetry works,” Gabriel said. “Trust me. It has more of an impact if I don’t overexplain it.”

“Well… I do suppose that poem was always a joke.” Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy gave him a small, trusting smile.

“Mr. Garcia can move in for the redirect.” The judge turned to the other lawyer.

“No questions.”

“Very well. We continue after lunch. Court dismissed.” The judge scratched his head as he climbed out from behind the bench. He passed by Gabriel and chuckled. “All that lasagna talk made me hungry.”