The Good Girl. Christy Barritt

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The Good Girl - Christy Barritt

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that were sure to entertain others at my expense.

      Which left me in the living room with Ben Cooper and Gaga.

      “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,” he said. His tone acknowledged that he knew how lame he sounded. What exactly did you say to comfort someone in a time like this? I had no idea, but assuring someone that there was a reason for the crazy around her was a good start.

      I nodded. Another Good Girls Rule, of course. Better to bite your own tongue than to say something that will come back and bite you later. “A logical explanation. Of course.”

      “Scare tactic?” His gaze looked earnest as he rubbed his chin in thought.

      “Why would someone try to scare me? No one knows me here.”

      He stared at me another moment, his crystal blue eyes still sincere as if he honestly wanted to help but came up blank. “They’re trying to scare Lana and didn’t realize that she’s out of the country?”

      “Unfortunate timing for me, then.”

      “Just lock your doors tonight.”

      Lock my doors? Did ghosts care about locks? Now I was thinking like a crazy person. Never would I admit it, though. “I will.”

      He nodded toward the door and took a step back. “I’ve got to go pick up my son, Austin, from his friend’s house. Remember, I’m right next door if you need anything.”

      I nodded, understanding that he wanted nothing to do with this mess. I couldn’t blame him. “Got it.”

      When the police left a few minutes later, Candy followed them out the door, mumbling something about having to go to work and that she’d see me on Sunday.

      See me on Sunday? I didn’t even ask. Nope. I closed the doors, locked them, and then stared at the house. What now? Wasn’t this what I wanted? Time alone?

      So why did I feel so freaked out then? Why did I actually, just for a moment, miss Candy’s chatter? Should I go to a hotel for the night? Or should I tough it out at Lana’s place? I would tough it out, I decided. If I could survive what I had in Florida, certainly I could survive a ghost in Minnesota.

      Right?

      I paced over to the bookshelf and looked at a picture of Lana and me from when we were teens. I missed those youthful days when our futures seemed so bright. When I was determined one day to be a teacher, a wife, and a mother. When I just knew my life would turn out perfectly.

      There was also the small factoid that I wasn’t even sure I was a Christian anymore. My doubts about God had simmered beneath the surface for a long time. Each time they tried to emerge, I shoved them down with a vengeance.

      But now I was in St. Paul. Now it was time to let them boil to the surface.

      My cell phone rang. I grabbed it and answered. Lana. I sank onto the couch, propping my feet up and letting my head fall back.

      Her perky and loud voice sounded worse than an alarm clock right now. “What’s going on, big sis? How do you like the place?”

      “It’s nice, Lana. Very unlike you.” I’d expected something sleeker for my ever-in-vogue sister. Maybe a new condo decorated in cool tones of gray? A grungy apartment in downtown? An industrial loft near the Mississippi? She was the type of woman who’d drop $400 for a trendy new purse, all while forgoing paying her rent, so a house this normal seemed like it’d be the bane of her existence.

      She laughed, the sound carefree, just like Lana. “I know. It is, isn’t it? That’s why I decided it was perfect.”

      I stared at the white ceiling and remembered the threatening note. “Listen, there are a couple of things I need to tell you.”

      “Me, too. Tara, you’ll never believe this—Nate popped the question last night. We’re getting married!”

      A foreign emotion filled my chest. I realized I needed to react and forced out a congratulations. She went on and on about how he proposed and when they would get married. They’d probably have a perfect life together. Lots of children and laughter and love.

      That’s the way it worked for my sister. She never followed the rules. She lived for herself completely, and life had been all rainbows and blue skies.

      “Tara? You still there?”

      I snapped back to reality. “I’m really happy for you, Lana.”

      “Thanks, big sis. Listen, take care of Doggie Gaga for me. Nate and I might extend our vacation, make it more of an early honeymoon. Are you okay with that? I know we planned to spend some time together when I got back, but sometimes these things happen.”

      “I’ll be fine, Lana. Don’t worry about me.” Gaga jumped in my lap, and I stroked her soft white fur.

      “And don’t let the ghost scare you away.”

      I remembered the eerie messages I’d found and stiffened. “Ghost?”

      Lana laughed. “Yeah, there’s a rumor that a ghost haunts the place. That’s why I got the house at such a good price. Some woman died there or something. That’s what the story is, at least.”

      I swallowed, though my saliva didn’t want to go down. “Is that right?”

      “Crazy, isn’t it?”

      “Not so much, Lana.” I hugged Gaga to my chest. “Do you have any enemies?”

      “More than I can count. Why?” She said it without a care in the world. Nope, she didn’t give a second thought to what people said about her. Must be nice.

      I told her about the note and the message on the mirror.

      “Really?” She screeched, sounding fifty-percent excited and one-hundred-percent intrigued. “That’s crazy. Who would do that?”

      “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

      “I have no idea. It’s creepy.” She paused. “I have a couple of pretty sick friends. I’ll call them and make sure they’re not behind it. In the meantime, if you have any trouble, my friend Candy can help you out. She did pick you up from the airport, right?”

      “I did meet her.” I didn’t want to sound like a tattle-tale.

      “And there’s this guy named Mark I want you to meet. He’s super cute and just the RX you need right now.”

      “Not interested.” I picked some stray dog hair from my shirt and shook my head as if Lana could see me.

      “Oh, come on, Tara. One day, you’ll have to start dating again.”

      “Not really. Being single isn’t that bad. It beats subjecting myself to more heartache.” I mentally “amened” myself, even throwing in a “you got that right, sister.” Who needed actual friends when I had a whole choir in my head backing me up?

      “You picked a bad one, Tara. You’ve got to face that. Peter was no good. Don’t let

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