At the tavern, Ellie couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who had appeared near the piano. She listened to Brett talk about some of the stories he’d researched and written recently for the newspaper. She usually found these behind-the-scenes reports fascinating, but this time she was having a devil of a time concentrating.

The tavern was filled with wolves having a meal in the wolf-members-only establishment. No one had to have a membership card to join; they just had to be a lupus garou.

“Do you have a photo of your great-aunt Matilda?” Ellie suddenly asked, and Brett set his glass of wine down on the table. Her question had come totally out of the blue, and she wished she’d done a better job of leading into it. “I was thinking it would be nice to dedicate the piano to her and have a little memorial plaque with her picture on it on the wall behind the piano.”

How was that for thinking quickly on her feet? Though she knew it was also the best way to commemorate the gift. She would have thought of doing it eventually.

“I’m sure I can find a family photo of her. I’ll check. That would be nice.”

Brett seemed to buy her story and appeared pleased. She sighed. Had their kissing brought the ghost to life? Disturbed her? Ever since Ellie had seen the woman, she’d wanted to call her sisters and warn them of the new ghostly trouble they might have. Unless the new ghost didn’t bother making any more appearances. How likely was that? From Ellie’s past experiences with ghosts attached to people or an object, not very likely.

“How did you say she died?” Ellie realized she’d completely changed the subject again. Brett had said something about the weather and snow, and she had barely heard his comments until he frowned at her.

He sat back a little in his chair this time and studied her. She really had to concentrate better on what he was saying. Brett would think she wasn’t interested in being with him. Which wasn’t the case at all. She just couldn’t stop thinking about the new ghost.

“Sorry.” She took an oversize swig from her glass and nearly choked on the wine.

“What’s wrong?” He reached across the table, taking hold of her hand and stroking it, which only fed into the way she would view him in tonight’s dream fantasy.

Nothing was wrong, except that the piano had stirred up two ghosts in the inn. Ellie hoped the women didn’t get into a fight over territory. She’d never seen it happen before, but anything was possible when paranormal stuff was involved.

“I was just thinking that we could mention a few details…for the memorial. The date of death and so on.”

Brett released her hand and took another sip of his wine. “She was seventy-five in human years, and the doc we had at the time said she died of pneumonia. It simulates drowning; her lungs were filled with fluid.”

What if Matilda had really drowned? What if she was staying around because she had been murdered?

Then again, ghosts of people who had died of natural causes could still attach themselves to prized possessions or people. Any number of things could be ghost magnets, depending on the individual spirit. In one case in the nineteenth century, a man had built a home for his beloved wife, but when she died of sickness and his daughter died a couple of years later, he continued to live there. Upon his death, he remained there as if tied to his wife and daughter and that home. Forever. The historical home was a museum in Texas now, and many visitors had seen the man in his ghostly form.

Ellie took a deep breath. Okay, no more thinking about ghosts. “So about the weather…” What had Brett said? “You said it’s going to snow?” She usually checked the weather every once in a while, but she’d been busy and hadn’t for a few days, though she had smelled snow in the air.

He smiled and reached across the table, taking hold of her hand and squeezing. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoy being with you, Ellie. You’re just fun to be around. I’ve been really wrapped up in work lately, but I wanted you to know it’s not always like this. I know you’ve been really busy lately too. I hope you enjoy being with me as much as I enjoy being with you.”

She smiled. If he only knew what she had been thinking about him in the privacy of her bedroom at night! “I love going out with you. I just…” The last time she’d told a guy she was dating that she was a ghost whisperer, he had stranded her at a hotel restaurant. He’d told her he had to go to the men’s room but skipped out on her instead, leaving the bill for her to pay! What an ass. Then she’d had to call a taxi to get home.

Of course karma can be a bitch. When she remembered he was staying that night at the hotel where the restaurant was—figuring he’d get lucky, she suspected—she’d given his room number to the waiter, paid him a really generous tip, bought a round of drinks for everyone at the bar, and gotten the most expensive bottle of champagne she could to share with her sisters and celebrate. She smiled at the satisfaction she’d gotten from that.

Considering how much she cared for Brett, she really wanted to deal with her current situation in the best way possible, not wanting to upset what she and he had for now.

“Brett, do you believe in ghosts?”