Chapter Twenty-Four

Monday morning came a little too early for Destiny. She had hardly gotten any sleep the previous night because of tossing and turning, not only from anxieties, but also from all of the noise caused by the swinging wake that had taken place in the graveyard. Her alarm clock went off and in her blind attempts to find the snooze button; she knocked it to the floor. With a stretch and a yawn, she got out of bed. Her left foot landed on a corner of the square clock. Cursing the inanimate object's exacted revenge, she grabbed her robe and limped to the bathroom.

Blinking bleary eyes at her reflection in the mirror, she picked up her hairbrush from off of the sink counter and began working on her brown locks. Something seemed to be happening to the mirror. She dropped the brush, and peered at the glass. A bluish-greenish form swirled and then finally took shape.

Ezra grinned a skeletal grin at her. "Mornin' raccoon eyes."

"Dobbins!" she cried as she glared at the ghost in the mirror. She was tired and not in the mood to put up with ghoulish antics.

Ezra feigned offense. "Aw, and I thought we were on a first name basis. I just came to wish you a good morning."

"What is it with you and my bathroom?"

He snorted. "I got that all through life and now I gotta put up with it in death too?" In a whiny, nasal voice he said, "What is it with you and my bathroom Ezra? What is it with you and my car Ezra? What is it with you and my grandma Ezra?"

She blinked. "Okay. A little too much information there, buddy."

"Why does your hat smell so funny Ezra?" He yanked off his bowler derby and shook it. A dead fish and a hunk of cheese fell out. "What is it with you and…

But Destiny didn't hear the rest. She had already backed out of the bathroom, leaving him to rant.

"I'm cool. I'm collected. I'm confident. I am going to be a completely civil person," Destiny muttered to herself. She was standing in front of a small mirror in the foyer. It was dirty from years of neglect, with a tarnished, oval metal frame. All she cared about was that certain bizarre ghosts weren't haunting it. She pulled her hair back, seeing what it would look like in a ponytail. Frowning, she dropped it and then tried out a bun.

"I think it looks best down, personally, but I'm just old fashioned," said Dustin as he stepped up beside her. Destiny had noticed that, unlike the other spirits, Dustin tried to "walk" rather than glide. He made an effort to look as if his feet were actually touching the floor, which he did very well. However, he could not make the sound of footsteps. He smiled. "You look sharp. Are you sure you don't want any breakfast? It's really nothing to whip up something, you know."

"I'll pick up breakfast on the way, a bagel or a scrambled egg burrito. I'm already running late."

"Then I'll get up early tomorrow and make sure you get a healthy breakfast. These fast food places you talked about seem…unsanitary." He helped her put on her jacket. After clearing his throat nervously, he added, "If any trouble comes up…I mean if you feel uncomfortable…or…" he stammered.

"Thanks." She ran her hands through her hair one last time. "I'll be all right. I'm over-reacting to this anyway." She nervously tugged on the ends of her silver skirt. In the left breast pocket of her matching jacket she put the little rose Dustin had given her the previous night. When she noticed him looking at it, she said, "I figured I could pick up a vase after work so I could put it on my desk. It doesn't seem right to just let it wilt. Well," she quickly exhaled, "wish me luck."

"I wish you lots of luck." Taking him completely by surprise, she gave him a hug. Since he didn't have a body it was more of a pantomime, but he got the point and embraced her back. "I've got the utmost faith in you."

"Well," said Destiny with a small cough while she tried very hard not to blush, "I trust you to keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone. You can let George continue to think he's in charge, but if he gets out of line…" She flicked her fist and made a noise like a cracking whip.

Dustin chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. Just take care of yourself, and we'll be here when you get back."

"All right. Don't throw any wild parties while I'm gone," she called over her shoulder as she started to walk out the front door. She paused and turned. "And make sure the Three Stooges stay off my computer."

"Can do. Bye!" He stood there; staring until after the door was shut and locked, with a wistful, albeit goofy, smile. In his reverie, he failed to notice the little girl that materialized beside him.

"You adults are so weird."

Dustin jumped with a yelp. After regaining his composure and adjusting his glasses, he turned to look at the dainty child. "Oh, uh, hello there, um… I'm quite sorry but I've never known your name. I've seen you around." He offered a kind grin. He'd always considered himself good with children, but he had to admit that the dead kid gave him the creeps.

She giggled, in a forced sort of way that Dustin suspected she did because it was expected of her, not because she found anything amusing. She took of the fedora she was wearing—Koji's fedora, Dustin quickly realized—and turned it over and examined it. "You adults are so weird," she repeated. She put the hat back on.

"We're weird? You're the one stealing people's hats," he replied playfully.

"Only Koji's," she explained, "because it looks so neat. I'm Little Leota, by the way, but you can call me L. L. Everyone does. I know who you are, Dustin." She didn't smile so much as smirk. "Do you want to know why I think adults are strange?"

Dustin didn't answer. L. L. was giving him the willies.

Ignoring his silence, she said, "Grown-ups seem to have a difficult time admitting they like someone else. I mean, it can be so obvious, and they still won't say anything."

"Oh, I see what you're getting at," he said with an accusing tone and an arched eyebrow.

"You do?" L. L. bit her lower lip. "And here I thought I was being coy." She took off the fedora again and spun it on her left pointer finger. "Look, I know it's none of my business, and I'm just a little kid," she rolled her eyes at the statement, and Dustin got the impression that she had heard it a few hundred times during her short life, "but I can tell you like Destiny, and she seems pretty fond of you. Why don't you just flat out tell her how you feel? I mean, it's not like it'll kill you."

"It's complicated," Dustin said slowly. He didn't know why he suddenly felt compelled to explain his predicament to a child, even one who seemed to have a better sense of intuition than most of the adults he had met. "We're just from two different places."

"So that's why you have that funny accent."

"Yes…No! I meant that…My accent isn't funny!" He sighed. "Let me make this really simple. She's alive. I'm not. There, I said it."

Very quietly and sagely, L. L. stated, "Death doesn't stop someone from loving you." When Dustin looked back at her, she suddenly seemed so much older than she really was. When he was a young boy, he had heard of "old souls", people who were wise beyond their years because, as belief told, they had been reincarnated multiple times and had retained the knowledge they had learned in their past lives. No one Dustin had ever met had matched that description, until now.

She shrugged one small shoulder and with the air of someone who thinks they've found a perfectly acceptable solution to a tiny problem, added, "You could kill her." With a flick of her wrist, she flung Koji's hat onto the hat stand and vanished.

Dustin's mouth hung open at the horrible suggestion. "What a disturbed child." He was jolted out of his thoughts by the ringing telephone. The 1930s relic had been recently dusted by Destiny, who thought the old rotary was "wickedly retro". Before Dustin could even contemplate picking it up, Phineas appeared and made a dive for the phone, snatching it.

"Gracey Taxidermy, you snuff 'em, we stuff 'em. Phineas Queeg speaking." After a pause, he said, "Hey Koji, how's it going?" Pause. "No, she's not here… No, I don't know where she works." Short pause. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? How rude!" He slammed down the phone. "He hung up on me."

"What was the problem?"

Phineas shrugged and pushed his chubby fingers under his top hat and scratched his head. "Didn't say. But he seemed really upset."

Dustin tried to shake off his uneasy feeling. "He'll probably call back later, right? You know," he said thoughtfully, "it's a shame we have no way to contact her, if something were to happen."

"To her or to us?" asked the disembodied voice of George Gracey. "Something tells me Koji's call is the least of your worries, Mr. Dust."

Dustin wondered how long the former master of the manor, and Destiny's great-grandfather, had been listening. Silently, he prayed George hadn't heard the conversation he had with L. L. And if he did, Dustin thought, I won't hear the end of it.

"Perhaps," said George as he appeared in front of the laptop, "there is a quick and easy way to get to her." He turned on the machine and flipped up the screen. "But I wouldn't want to impose. After all, I'm only supposed to think I'm in charge." He smiled at Dustin and flicked a fist and made the same whip sound that Destiny had.

"A-heh," Dustin chuckled nervously.

"Are you going to send her one of those e-what's-a-majiggers?" asked Phineas.

George's cerulean eyes sparkled mischievously. "Not quite."

"Remember, if this looks bad, I look bad."

Destiny looked up from her computer screen with a sigh. "If it looks great you look bad," she muttered under her breath. Loud enough for Marie Covington to hear, she said, "You do realize that this is still conceptual work, right?" The schematics and plans for the new Liberty Bridge came up on the screen, a three-dimensional image that could be rotated and seen from any angle. She'd only been at work for three hours and already she was pressured with a deadline. She knew about the meeting between Frees Construction Company and the city council when she had gotten the phone call the previous day and she had agreed to double-check the plans for the bridge. Still, she felt as if she had been too rushed. It was also impersonal, considering all she did was punch in numbers and upload diagrams from other people. Her main job that morning had been to look over the illustration and double-check every measurement. Craig knew she had an extremely keen eye for detail. Then, it would be printed out and Craig and Marie would show it to the council. After the concept was approved, Destiny could have a little more artistic freedom with it later.

Destiny printed out the designs and picked up a file with several illustrations and notes. Beside her desk was a beautifully detailed painting done by the man who had previously held her job. It too would be part of the presentation.

Marie snatched up the printouts before the ink could even dry. She scrutinized every one and sniffed. "It's a start." Marie was a bony, hard looking woman in her mid forties. A chain smoker since her twenties, she had a raspy voice. Her shoulder length dusty brown hair already had shades of gray in it. How Craig had had a physical attraction to her, Destiny could never guess. But the two were equally selfish and superficial, so they were obviously meant for each other.

"Knock knock," said Craig with a laugh as he stepped into the cubicle. "Ladies, the meeting starts in twenty minutes. Are all the papers ready?"

"Yeah," said Marie, "but they're pretty low quality prints, and the ink is smudged."

"As long as the Mayor can see them that's all that counts," said Destiny.

"And the press," Craig added. "The 'Liberty Square Times' will be there, too." He turned to Marie. "Miss Covington, take these to the boardroom and begin setting things up, will you? I'll be there in a minute."

Marie shot a look at Craig and then at Destiny, picked up the papers and the painting, and hurriedly left. He watched until she turned down a hallway and was out of sight.

"It's an honor isn't it?" he said. "Constructing the new bridge for Liberty Square's two hundred and fifth birthday."

"Odd year to do it," said Destiny as she stacked papers on her desk. "You'd think they would have picked a less obscure anniversary. Like maybe, the two hundred and twenty-fifth birthday. I'm turning thirty-one next month and I don't get a bridge."

Craig laughed, a little too loudly and forcefully to be genuine. "I've always loved that sense of humor of yours." Looking past the stacks of files and papers, he saw one of the little Dixie cups from the watercooler next to her computer. In it was Dustin's rose. "Who gave you that?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"A… friend," Destiny answered. Why was that so hard to say? she thought, surprised at herself.

"After the meeting, I'm going to lunch. Do you want to come with me?"

"No, thank you," Destiny said politely. "I've still got a lot of stuff to set up here. Then there's that repair job on the library I'm supposed to look over."

"How about lunch tomorrow?"

"Don't know."

"Day after that?"

"Not sure."

He thought about this. "What about dinner?"

"I told you--"

"Breakfast?"

Was he grinning? He was grinning! How was she supposed to take that comment?

"My plate is pretty full for a while, so to speak."

He frowned. "Well, there must be some day when you won't be busy when we can have a little…company chat."

"You know me, I have an extremely hectic social life." She wasn't about to add that she knew dead people who were more enjoyable to talk to than him. Like Dustin… "And you," she said, glancing at her watch, "have a meeting to go to. Good luck with that." They both said good byes and Craig left. She picked up a folder and leafed through it for no other reason than to clear her thoughts.

"Having a fun day at work, granddaughter?"

Destiny stifled back a yelp and dropped the folder, scattering notes all over the floor. After picking up the papers, she looked at her desk to discover George Gracey, only one-and-a-half inches tall on her computer screen.

With a grin he said, "I sent you a me-mail."

"What are you…No, how did you get here?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

He calmly sauntered on the desktop, inspecting all of the square software logos. After finding one he liked—Walt's Windows 2K Washer—he pulled himself onto it and sat on top of it, letting his legs dangle over the side. It shouldn't have been possible. It was just a flat square of pixels. He swung his legs like a little kid. "I just jumped into your, oh, what's it called again? Oh, yeah, computer. I remembered you had said that you can send those e-mails to anyone in a second, so I figured I could travel here just as easily."

Destiny arched an eyebrow. "Just as easily?"

"Okay," he admitted with a sheepish smile, "I did have a little bit of trouble. Looking up the correct engineering company was difficult, and I did pop up on a few wrong computers." He chuckled. "That poor librarian wouldn't stop screaming."

"And why'd you do that?"

"Is there anything wrong with checking up on my favorite descendent?"

Destiny allowed herself a smile. "You owe me years of good report cards and birthdays cash, gramps."

"I suppose I should tell you that Koji called. He didn't say much, except that, um, well I shouldn't repeat some of what he said. The general gist was that he was upset about something."

"He'll call back later. It's probably about having to write some report or whatever it is paranormal investigators do." She looked thoughtful. "You don't consider that an invasion of privacy, do you? I can tell him to stop his investigation."

George shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't think anything will come of it." Cocking his head to the side a little, he said, "You seem anxious, worried."

"Really?" She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "I'm fine. Stressed, but fine. Uh, I've got some things to do, so…"

"Oh, right. I'll go. Have fun."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll try." With a wave, he vanished. "Bizarre," she muttered. She looked at the rose. Soon, she would have to get a new cup before the bottom of this one dissolved. "Bizarre."