“Oh, my God.” Kinley laid her aching head on the table in Bonnie’s apartment an hour and ten minutes later, groaning heartily. The wedding party was gathered upstairs in the dining room, in the capable hands of the caterer and her staff now—at least for the next hour or so. Still, Kinley wouldn’t be at all surprised to be texted by Eva at least once during the rehearsal dinner. Eva wasn’t particularly happy that she and her husband weren’t the official hosts of that meal, and she would surely do something during the evening to draw attention to herself.
Bonnie had made a pot of vegetable soup and a pan of corn bread for herself and Kinley and Dan, whom she’d invited to join them again. Normally Kinley wouldn’t have allowed herself to show weakness in front of their guest, but the past hour had seriously tried her patience.
Bonnie set a steaming bowl in front of Kinley. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Straightening in her chair, she drew a deep breath. “Only if it’s laced with vodka.”
Laughing softly, Bonnie dropped into her own seat and picked up her spoon. “You don’t mean that.”
“No,” Kinley admitted. “But if anyone could drive me to drink, it would be Eva Sossaman.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your ‘best friend forever’ that way,” Dan murmured, spreading butter on a bite of corn bread.
Kinley turned to point her spoon at him accusingly. “And you. Encouraging Maxine to tell that absurd ghost story.”
“I didn’t bring it up, she did,” he reminded her before popping the corn bread into his mouth.
“You egged her on.”
He shrugged. “She wanted to tell the story, I wanted to hear it. I found it fascinating, as did most of the other people who were listening, apparently.”
“Dan told me what Maxine said,” Bonnie observed. “It was very sad. I hadn’t heard it quite that way before.”
“She was probably embroidering the tale a bit,” Kinley said, voicing her earlier suspicion. “I hope you aren’t planning to print a story an old woman possibly made up on the spot,” she added to Dan.
“I could credit it to a longtime local,” he said offhandedly. “I probably won’t go into that much detail, but I would be remiss not to mention the old legend at least in passing. People go for that sort of thing these days, you know. I’m surprised you aren’t jumping on a possible marketing angle—and yes, I know you said you were afraid it would attract the wrong kind of attention, but business is business, right?”
“The sweet, romantic story our great-uncle shared with our family was very special to us,” Bonnie interceded. “It always affected him very deeply to talk about it. I think Kinley is reluctant to commercialize the legend, to exploit it as a cheap marketing gimmick.”
“Actually, I’m looking at it from a practical business angle. Just as a ghost legend would attract some guests, it would turn others away,” Kinley said brusquely. “Not to mention that we’d get tired of answering questions about it, or assuring people that they’re seeing fog or deer or shadows and not ghosts. Or comforting brides who’d be disappointed by not seeing the ghost.”
She looked at Dan again. “You heard
Eva out there, trying to convince Serena she’s already seen the bride. Before the weekend is over, Eva’s probably going to demand that I produce the ghost as a part of the package she’s paid for.”
“Want me to dress up in a sheet?” Bonnie asked. Dan laughed, but Kinley only glared at her sister.
“I won’t exploit your family legend,” Dan promised. “I won’t even mention that your great-aunt and great-uncle saw the bride. I’ll simply make a passing reference to a charming old local legend once connected to the inn. My article wouldn’t be complete without it.”
“You have to give him that, Kinley. I’m sure Dan will be very tasteful in his write-up.”
Kinley sighed. “Fine.”
“You know why you’re really so resistant to this legend?” Dan asked conversationally.
She frowned. “I’ve already explained that.”
“I think you’re a little afraid of it.”
She huffed in disbelief at his suggestion. “I’m so not afraid of ghosts.”
“You’re afraid of things you can’t control,” he corrected. “You can’t control ghosts—or whether or not people claim to see them on your property. And that bugs the hell out of you.”
“You know what, Kinley? I think he’s got you figured out,” Bonnie said, sounding impressed. “I’ve always wondered why the ghost bride made you so uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because you can’t get her to appear on schedule, can’t add her to your annotated and color-coded calendar.”
Scowling, Kinley shifted in her chair and crumbled corn bread between her fingers. “You’re both nuts.”
Before they could argue any more her phone vibrated in her pocket. She drew it out and checked the screen, then sighed and stood. “Eva wants to ask my opinion about something for tomorrow.”