The Christmas Elf

An Angela Panther Holiday Short

Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

June 2016

COPYRIGHT 2015, Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

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Cover Design by Tatiana Vila

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

EPUB ISBN 978-1-5137-0801-0

For Gracie

Wait for me at the Rainbow Bridge, sweet girl.

Other Books by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Mystery

Unbreakable Bonds An Angela Panther Mystery

Uncharted Territory An Angela Panther Mystery

Santa’s Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella

The Inn at Laurel Creek

8 to Lose the Weight

To be notified of future releases and receive a free copy of Carolyn's holiday novella, Santa's Gift, A Cumming Christmas Novella, visit

Carolynridderaspenson.com

The Christmas Elf

“Here, take this. I don’t want it.” Mel shoved a plastic bag from Target in my face.

I pushed it away. “What is it?” I’d learned not to accept anything bagged or wrapped from Mel without an explanation first.

She thrust it at me again. “Just take it, please.”

I scooted my chair back and waved my hands in front of me. “Nope. Not fallin’ for it. Learned my lesson last time.”

Mel laughed, and so I did. The last time she’d given me a gift in public we were eating lunch in a crowded sandwich shop. She had me close my eyes and pull out the surprise—a rubber penis. I was so shocked I flung the thing across the restaurant and smack dab into the double-D’s of an older woman whose missing sense of humor was replaced by a wicked bad temper. It wasn’t pretty.

Mel opened the bag. “It’s not a sex toy. See?”

I peeked inside. “An elf?”

She nodded and emptied the bag onto the table.  The elf fell out and landed face down. “It’s all yours.”

I didn’t touch the thing for fear it was rigged with something sure to embarrass me. “Please explain.”

“I got it last year at that community garage sale, remember?”

The bell in my brain dinged. “Oh, yeah. Your frugal-is-fun version of that Elf on A Shelf® thing.” I picked up the toy and maneuvered its arms over its head. “Don’t you want it?”

“I do, but Bruno freaks out every time I try to put it up.”

Bruno, a gentle giant of a German Shepherd, was probably the sweetest dog alive--other than Gracie, of course. He was deathly afraid of the vacuum, thunderstorms, Barbie® and little dogs and other four-legged creatures, so it wasn’t a big leap for him to be afraid of a toy elf.

I slid the toy back into the bag. “Thanks, but my kids are a little old for the elf thing.”

Mel pushed the bag back toward me, leaned in and whispered, “I think it’s possessed.”

I sat back in my chair again, a smile stretched across my face. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“I’m serious.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“It moves on its own.”

I sipped my drink. “Moves? Like from one place to another?”

“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’,” she said.

Normally I’d think Mel was punking me, but her fear of demons bordered on obsessive, so I figured she was serious. I snuck another peek into the bag and then opened my purse and stuffed the bag into it. “Details please.”

“You know how that elf thing works, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I figured I’d do the same thing with that one.” She pointed to the doll on the table. “But instead of telling the kids and making a production out of it, I decided to put it out and see if they noticed. I thought once they did, I’d move it around and let it get into all kinds of things, you know, like you see on Pinterest. Only I didn’t have to because it did it on its own.”

That grabbed my attention. “What did it do exactly?”

“A few nights ago I leaned it up against one of trees in my tree display, you know, the one on my entryway table. But when I got up the next morning, it was sitting on top of my coffee pot.”

“One of your kids probably found it and moved it.”

She shook her head. “I put it there after the kids went to bed, so they couldn’t have done it. Besides, why would they? They’d be too excited to see it and not mention it. And that’s not the only time it moved.” She pierced a lettuce leaf and a cherry tomato with her fork and crammed it into her mouth. Chewing while talking, she said, “I moved it back to the table that morning. I got the kids up and to school. When I got back from dropping them off, Bruno was cowering behind the couch, shaking and whining, his nose shoved into the corner. When I went over to him, the elf was sitting on the back of the couch. It was staring at him, Ang. Staring at him.”

“Maybe he grabbed it from the table and put it there and then got freaked out.”

She shook her head. “You don’t get it. It was standing up when I put it back on the table, but each time it moved, it was sitting.”

I admitted that was a little odd, but it wasn’t enough to convince me the toy was possessed. “Bruno’s a seventy-five-pound dog Mel, and his jaw is massive. He could have easily bent the thing when he grabbed it.”

“Fine, you’re right. He could have, but could he have opened my shower door and put it on the shelf in there?”

I giggled. “So now you’re saying it’s a Peeking Elf?”

She nodded. “And it’s pretty cocky about it, too. It had one foot on a knee and was just sitting there with this creepy smile on it’s face. I felt so violated.”

I busted out laughing. “Good grief, Mel, it’s a doll, not a voyeur.”

She didn’t find it as funny as I did. “I’m serious.”

I snatched the bag from my purse and took out the elf. “So, you’re a pervert are ya?” I smirked at the doll. “Get your rocks off ogling Asian woman, do ya?” I flipped it around and pushed it toward Mel, wiggling it around. In my poor excuse for an Irish accent I said, “Ah yes, my dear. I love me a hot Asian.”

She jerked back. “It’s an elf, not a leprechaun and you suck at accents.”

She had a point. “Elves can be Irish, too.” I twisted it around again, making it dance for Mel.

“Just keep it away from me.”

“If it freaks you out so much, why didn’t you just throw it out?”

“I did. I put it in the garbage last night. Threw it right into the can at the front of my driveway. When I woke up this morning it was sitting on my alarm clock.”

The hairs on my arms tingled. “Okay, that’s a little creepy.”

“Exactly.”

I tossed it back into the bag and tied it in a knot. “So what do you want me to do with it?”

“I don’t care, just keep it away from me.”

“Not a problem.” I walked the doll over to the garbage can and tossed it in.

***

That night I woke up to Gracie’s paw scraping down my arm as it dangled off the side of my bed. Her blue eyes were opened wide and her teeth chattered. I glanced out the window behind my nightstand, checking for rain, but it was still too dark to see so I listened for one instead. Nothing. Gracie hated storms so I figured one was brewing and she was scared. “It’s okay, Gracie Girl,” I said, rubbing her head.

She pawed at me some more and knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, I got up, put on my robe and headed downstairs.  Gracie followed close behind. It was only two o’clock. “You’re gonna owe me for this one, Gracie Girl.”

I flipped on the light over the stove and shuffled over to the coffeepot, and that’s when I saw it.

The elf.

Sitting on top of the coffeemaker.

I stepped back and focused on keeping calm. Gracie on the other hand, cowered next to the couch in the family room.  I turned on the main light in the kitchen and walked back to the coffee pot. “Well,” I said to the elf. “Isn’t this a surprise?”

I half expected the doll to respond, and when it didn’t, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or perturbed. I moved it to the stove and made myself a pot of coffee. Yes, it was creepy, but not creepy enough to stop me from having a cup of java. I had my priorities.

Once the coffee was done, I grabbed my new buddy and brought it into the family room. Gracie immediately recoiled and hid in the corner behind the Christmas tree. I tried to reassure her but she ignored me. I put the elf on the coffee table and stared at it. It ogled me back. Okay, Mel was right. It is creepy, more so than I’d thought.

I picked it up and examined every inch of it. IT wasn’t like the popular elf that everyone bought and moved around the house to make sure their kids behaved for the holiday, but more like a Barbie® with stiff, bendable appendages. To bend it, I had to physically move each limb; they didn’t just hang and move without effort. My spidey sense didn’t go off and I didn’t feel any kind of negative vibe from the thing, but that didn’t matter. Something was obviously up and I needed to find out what. “So, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Give me back.”

“What the—“ I flung the doll across the room. Gracie jumped out from behind the tree and bolted to parts unknown. I took a few deep breaths, gathered what little composure I had left and tiptoed up to the doll, as if being light on my feet would make its voice part of my imagination or something.

The elf had landed face down next to a bookcase but before I finished the few steps between it and the couch, the thing flipped over and literally flew to the top of the fireplace mantle and popped a squat. I nearly had a heart attack. Dead people were one thing, but living dolls were far out of my comfort zone.

“Give me back,” it said again.

I noted the creepy smile on its face but pretended I wasn’t scared. In the recent past I’d learned life was full of surprises and most scary things weren’t really as scary as I thought. I’d also learned I had a pretty big pair of imaginary testicles when I needed them and at that moment, I needed them. “I’m Angela. And you are?” 

“Give me back.”

Yes, I really was standing at the foot of my fireplace talking to a creepy looking elf doll. “I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

“Back. Give me back.”

“Well, all righty then.” I grabbed it, carried him back into the kitchen and plopped it on the counter. I poured myself another cup of coffee and called for my mom.

“Oh lookie there,” she said. “You got yourself a new friend.” She examined the elf and jerked back when it blinked at her. “Ew, that’s creepy.”

“It talks too.”

“Oh yeah? That’s kinda interesting.” She got a touch closer to the doll and smiled. “Hi there, little one. How you doin’?”

“Give me back,” it said.

She glanced at me. “Kinda rude, ain’t it?”

I shrugged. “Limited vocabulary.”

“So whadda you gonna do with it?”

“I was kinda hoping you could help me with that,” I said.

“Me? Madone, I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout talkin’ elfs. I’m a celestial spirit is all. Ask me about the after life, I can answer. Ask me how much breadcrumbs to put in your meatballs, I can tell ya. But what to do with a talking elf? I got nothin’.”

I leaned against my kitchen counter. I eyed the elf and was pretty sure it eyed me back. “Maybe we can figure something out together.”

My mother blew on the elf and it fell backward. “Ha, did you see that? I got me some pretty strong breath considerin’ my innards are missin’.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can we get down to business here please?”

“Business? Whadda you mean? You got a toy elf that talks. You want it to stop? Get some of that duct tape and put it on its mouth. Boom. Problem solved.”

I ignored her and picked up the elf. “Hey elf, got anything to say?”

“Give me back.”

I set the elf back on the counter and stared at my mother. “See?”

She shrugged. “All’s I’m sayin’ is a little duct tape will fix that right away.”

“Ma, something’s up with the elf. It wouldn’t be talking to me otherwise and you know that. We gotta do something here.”

She grimaced.

“What?”

“Why all of a sudden is it ‘we’? Why, if the elf is talkin’ to you do ‘we’ gotta do something? Why not you?”

My mother never, ever backed away from butting into my business. “What’s going on, Ma?”

“Whadda you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You’re always sticking your nose in my business and now all of a sudden you want nothing to do with this? Come on, spill it.”

She swiveled to the elf and then back to me. “It’s creepin’ me out.”

I about spit my coffee onto the floor. “Oh my gawd. You’re scared of a talking doll? You? The celestial super spirit? Well I’ll be damned.”

“I ain’t scared,” she said, her energy flickering tiny red sparks. “I just don’t like no talkin’ dolls is all.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, well I don’t much prefer talking dead people, so there ya go.”

“That’s different.”

“Maybe your gift is growing.”

She stuck her tongue out at me and I giggled, knowing she’d recognized me using her own words on her.

I grabbed the elf again, straightened its legs and held it, standing up, on the counter. “Okay elf, I’m happy to give you back but you gotta help me help you, you know? So who do you belong to?”

Ma floated over and we both watched the elf, waiting for it to reply.

Crickets.

“Ah Madone,” Ma said. “You pulled me away from my bridge game for this?”

They played bridge in the after life? Who knew?

“Give me back,” the elf chirped.

Surprised, I launched the doll across the kitchen. It landed on the couch. Before I had a chance to retrieve it, it popped up and sat on the back of the couch. “Give me back.”

“Oh boy,” Ma said.

I shuddered. “I know, right?” 

“How’s it do that?”

“Beats me but I don’t like it.”

“You gotta give it back.”

I fell into the chair at my kitchen counter. “This is way above my pay grade.”

She studied the elf. “Where’d it come from?”

“Mel.”

She pivoted my direction. “Well there ya go. It wants to go back to her.” She flicked her wrist. “Easy peasy.”

“I don’t think so. It freaked Mel out and I’m pretty sure she won’t take it back.”

Ma giggled. “That woulda been fun to watch, that’s for sure.”

I giggled, too. “I know. She said it kept moving around the house. If she found out it talks, she’d probably need a diaper.”

“If it ain’t Mel it wants to go back to, then who is it?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” I ran my hand through my hair and moaned. “As if I don’t already have enough on my plate. Now I’ve got a talking elf to deal with.”

At that very moment the thing sailed through the air practically in slow motion and positioned itself on the armrest of my barstool. Ma and I watched it make its way across the room, our jaws hanging open.

“How’s it do that?” she asked.

“Beats the heck outta me,” I said.

“Give me back,” it said.

I grabbed the little booger and held it to my face. “Trust me, I want to give you back!” I yelled. “Tell me where to take you and I’ll do it right now!”

The doll fluttered its eyelashes. “Mommy.”

My eyes popped open. “Mom…mommy? Okay. I…Who’s your mommy?”

“Give me back.”

I dropped an F-bomb.

“Pretty much,” my mother said.

***

My husband Jake flipped the doll in his hands. “Doesn’t seem possessed to me.”  He wiggled it in my face. “Ohh, give me back. Ohh.”

I yanked it from him. “You’re not helpful.”

Jake laughed. “I’m sure it’s just some spirit messing with you, honey. You’ll figure it out.” He poured himself a cup of stale coffee. When he sipped it, he dumped the rest of the cup into the sink. “How old is this stuff?”

“Not old enough to be wasted.” I would drink day old coffee in a heartbeat but Jake was a coffee snob. He wanted his beans just picked and shipped straight from the farm.

He made a fresh pot. “So what’s your plan?”

“I’m doin’ it,” I said, in the throes of a staring contest with the elf.

Jake leaned back against the counter and crossed one leg over the other. After he sipped his freshly made coffee, he said, “I think you’re gonna lose this one, babe.”

I broke eye contact with the elf and established it with my husband. “Do you know how hard it is to win a staring contest with a doll? Even one that’s mobile?”

“I can only imagine.”

I opened the fridge and scanned its barren contents. “I need to go shopping. There’s nothing yummy in here.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“What you do when you want to avoid a problem?”

“No, I’m not. I’m hungry.”

“No, you’re avoiding your problem and replacing it with food. That’s what you do.”

I flipped around and gave him the stink eye. “Sometimes it’s best to keep your lips zipped.”

He raised his hands in defense. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

I folded myself into him and he pulled me close. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He hugged me tighter. “No harm, no foul.”

I nuzzled my face into his neck, inhaling his scent, a mix of spicy deodorant and Jake, my most favorite smell. “The elf is creepy.”

“That it is.”

“Even my mother thinks so.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

I pulled away from him, but he kept his arms around my waist. “I know. And she doesn’t have a clue what to do, which is unusual, so that just makes this all the more confusing. And the whole, give me back and mommy thing is frustrating.”

“At the risk of stating the obvious, seems like if you find out who mommy is, you’ll know who to give it back to.”

“Care to guess how many mommies there are in the world?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“You’ll just have to retrace your steps.”

“You mean Mel’s steps?”

“Mel’s steps.”

“She’s not gonna like this. The doll already freaks her out.”

“Tell her to put on her big girl panties.”

“That’s the problem. Mel doesn’t wear panties.”

“Didn’t need to know that, honey.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

***

“It speaks?” Mel asked. “Like, uses actual words?”

I nodded.

“Oh, hell no.” She backed away from the elf and me. “I am not coming near that thing. I told you it’s possessed. Take it to the dump. Burn it. I don’t care what you do with it, but keep it away from me.” Her face had whitened so much I could see the veins under her eyelids.

“It is not possessed. It just wants his mommy.” Even I realized how ridiculous that sounded.

She raised an eyebrow and then waved a hand. “I can’t even.” She marched to my couch and sat at the furthest point from the kitchen. “Keep that thing away from me.”

I set it behind the toaster and sat next to her. “You got me into this so you’ve gotta help me. It’s not complicated. We’ve just gotta bring it back to the house you bought it from.”

She pressed her lips together. “The place I got it? That’s all?”

I nodded.

“You’re sure?”

I wasn’t but I nodded anyway. I figured if I was wrong, I’d worry about it later.

“Okay,” she said. She stood. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner that thing is gone, the sooner the hairs on the back of my neck will go down and I can feel normal again.”

I followed her into the kitchen. She stopped near the counter with the toaster.

“You want me to get it?” I asked.

She nodded. “I sure as heck ain’t touchin’ it.”

“Chicken.”

“Sorry, not sorry.”

I grabbed the elf and we jumped in my car.

After I’d backed out of my driveway, I asked her for directions.

“It’s Leafy Greens subdivision.”

Since Starbucks was on the way to that particular subdivision, we made a quick stop to quench our pumpkin spice latte addiction, and sat at our favorite outside table. It was a bit chilly but Georgia weather rarely stopped us from sitting outside. We kept the creepy elf locked in my car.

Mel popped open the lid on her cup and swiped her finger through the whipped cream. “This is the best part of the drink,” she said, licking her finger.

I followed suit. “I know.”

Pumpkin spice lattes were like candy to me and I finished mine quickly, but Mel, whose patience often resembled that of a saint, sipped hers. I hated that about her.

“So what’s the plan? We gonna knock on their door and give the elf back or what?” she asked.

I eyed her drink and when she caught on, she held it tightly. “I was thinking we’d stick it in the mailbox. That way we don’t have to explain anything.”

“Good plan.” She dipped her finger into the whipped cream again.

A slight moan escaped my lips.

“If you didn’t scarf yours down, you wouldn’t be so jealous,” she said.

“It’s the holidays. I’m getting another one.” I practically jumped from my seat and went back inside.

A few minutes later, as I waited for Jenn to finish making my drink, Mel walked in, leaned into me and whispered, “It’s on the table.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? And it talked to me.”

She was shaking. If I didn’t get how creepy it was I would have laughed. “Did you put it back in the car?” 

“Are you kidding? I’m not touchin’ that thing. I told you it’s possessed. And besides, you locked the car, remember?”

She had a point. “Did you see it get out?” I couldn’t help but wonder how that had happened.

She shook her head. Jenn handed me my drink and I pulled Mel back toward the front of the store. It was like pulling a bag of wet cement. She didn’t want to budge but I forced her. “It’s not gonna hurt you, I promise. It just wants to go back to its mommy.” Saying that made my stomach lurch. The whole thing was just messed up.

“I wanna go home. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Oh no you don’t,” I said. “This is your deal, not mine.”

“But I passed the buck to you.”

I used my hip to push open the door and pulled Mel through it. The elf sat on the tabletop, its eyes fixed on the door. “Give me back,” it said.

“I’m gonna barf,” Mel said.

“Then you’d better do it before you get in my car because I’m not cleaning that up.”

She bent over and took deep breaths. I didn’t realize she wasn’t kidding. “You okay?”

She pulled herself up and let out one last big breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

I grabbed the elf and clicked the key fob for my car and we headed to the Leafy Greens subdivision.

I turned into the main entrance. “Which house was it?”

She peered out the passenger side window. “I’m not sure.”

I faced her. “Seriously?”

“It’s been over a year.”

“Good grief.” I pulled to the side of the road. “Think, Mel.”

She studied the area in front of us. “It’s a big subdivision but I remember a lot of the sales were by the pool.” She pointed to the left.

“Give me back,” the elf said. It was in the cup holder between us.

I picked it up and sat it on the dashboard. “We’re working on that, buddy. Maybe you can point us in the right direction?”

The elf didn’t offer any input.

“Guess not,” Mel said. “And I can’t decide if I’m relieved about it or not either.”

“Right there with ya.” I slowed near the pool. “Any of these look familiar?”

She scrutinized the surrounding homes. “I don’t know. Can’t your mom help us?”

“I already asked. She was just as freaked out by the elf as we are so I doubt she’s all that interested.”

“Great.”

The dead must have some celestial sixth sense because my mother shimmered into the backseat. “I ain’t scared of the talkin’ elf.”

“Annnd she’s here,” I said in my best Price is Right announcer voice.

Mel golf clapped. “Awesome. Fran, can you tell us where I got the elf?”

Ma snorted. “Whadda she think I am, psychic?”

I snorted.

“What?” Mel asked. She could talk to my mother but couldn’t hear her respond.

“She wants to know if you think she’s psychic.”

Mel’s eyebrows stretched to the tip of her hairline. “Uh, well, yeah.”

“That’s the problem with youse guys. You think we celestial spirits know it all.”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Turn left at the stop sign up there,” Ma said.

I nodded. “I knew it.”

“What?” Mel asked.

“She knows where to go.”

“Of course she does because she’s the bomb diggity.”

I pulled up alongside a modest two story, red hardy plank home much like the rest of the homes in the subdivision.

The elf, still perched on the dashboard, pointed to the house and said, “Give me back.”

“We’re workin’ on it,” I said.

“You’re not going to the door are you?” Mel asked.

“I was thinking you were.”

She shook her head. “Uh, yeah. What’m I supposed to say? ‘Hey, this elf keeps telling me it wants to come back to you, so here ya go.’ I don’t think so.”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

“Stuff it in the mailbox.”

I glanced at the doll on the dashboard, its little face staring almost desperately at the house. A slight twinge pinched in my chest and I was surprised to realize I felt a little guilty about just stuffing the doll in the mailbox. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What? Why not?” she asked.

Ma giggled. “You feel bad for it, dontcha?”

I nodded. “Would you like being stuffed inside a small dark place? What if it’s claustrophobic?” 

Mel leaned her head against the back of the car seat and moaned. “Oh for cryin’ out loud, it’s a doll.”

I picked up the elf and held it toward my friend. “A talking doll. One that has made it pretty darn clear it wants to go home, so obviously it has feelings and who am I to assume it wouldn’t mind being stuffed into a mailbox?” I shook my head. “I can’t do that to it. I just can’t.” I leaned toward her, the elf only and inch from her face. “Here, take it back to them.”

She pressed herself into the passenger side door so tightly she gave herself three chins. It wasn’t pretty. “No. Not doin’ it. I’m not touchin’ that thing. I told you, it’s creepy.”

“She’s got a point there,” Ma said.

“Fine, I’ll take it.” I opened my car door, and as I got out, said, “I’m the only one here with the cojones to do the right thing.” I slammed the door behind me.

I heard Mel yell, “Better you than me,” as I walked up the driveway.

I rang the bell and a few seconds later a middle-aged woman with long dark hair and olive colored skin opened it. “May I help you?”

“Uh, hi. My name is Angela.” I struggled to find the right words. “I um…I…my friend bought this elf from your garage sale and I…I know this is gonna sound strange, but she thought you might want to have it back.” I held the doll up for her.

The woman tilted her head to the left like Gracie does when I say the word walk. “That’s not mine.”

It was my turn to tilt my head. “But this is where she bought it. Last year. At the garage sale.”

“Last year? We just moved here last summer.”

Well, crap. “Oh. Do you happen to have any information on the previous owners? I’d really like to give them the doll back.”

“May I ask why?”

Sometimes life is a lot like a game of craps. You just have to roll the dice and see what happens. That moment was one of those times. “Because the doll, it talks and it told me it wanted to go back to it’s mommy, so I figured there’s a good reason.”

Her eyes popped open. She stepped back and slammed the door in my face.

I stared at the door and then at the elf. “Well that blows.”

The little elf’s eyes blinked at me. “Give me back.”

“I’m tryin’. I’m tryin’.”

***

Jake stared blankly at the TV, flipping channels. “Maybe you should’ve just stuffed it in the mailbox.”

“Something tells me that wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“And you think Fran really doesn’t know where the family moved to?”

“Nope. She even crossed her heart and hoped to die.”

He started to say something but I cut him off.

“I know. I said the same thing. She said celestial spirits know most everything but they don’t know it all. Yada, yada, yada. You know the drill. Lessons and all that crap.”

“So what happens now?” He’d finally settled on a reality TV show about people in living in Alaska.

“I’ll search public records for the last sale of the house and get the owner’s name and then hopefully find them through whitepages.com. If I can’t, I guess I’ll see if Aaron can find them for me.”

“All for a doll?”

“A talking, moving doll.”

“True, but have you considered the fact that they might’ve sold it to Mel for that very reason?”

Huh. I hadn’t. I fell onto the couch next to Jake and leaned my head onto his shoulder. “I’m just gonna pretend that’s not the case. We don’t have room for a talking doll. We already hit our daily word usage with two teenagers and my dead mother.”

“That we do.”

***

The Internet is equally remarkable and unnerving. A quick public property records check gave me the sales information for the modest house—Georgia home values were ridiculously inflated, a whopping $465,271 sale—by a Sharon Masterson. Further investigation by yours truly for a mere ninety-nine cents amassed a plethora of personal information on Kevin and Sharon Masterson, including their credit score—each in the seven hundreds—their two children’s names—Bella and Logan—emails, places of employment for the past five years and the golden egg, their current home address.

I gave myself a high-five. I picked up the elf and showed it the information on my laptop.  “Well, there ya go. That right there is all the information we need to get you back home.”

“Give me back,” it said.

I flipped it to face me. “We really need to work on growing your vocabulary.”

I put it in the cabinet with the Tupperware and closed the door. As I tidied up the house before going to bed, I felt guilty for leaving it in the cabinet and went back to get it, but it was already out and sitting on the coffee pot. “Stay here, please. I don’t want you freaking my dog out again, okay?”

It blinked.

I took that as a yes and went to bed.

***

Mel was in full-on whine mode. “I don’t wanna go. That thing scares the bejesus outta me.”

“That thing is yours. I’m doing you a favor here so you’re coming with me.” I finished the last of my cup of coffee, kissed my son Josh goodbye as he headed to the school bus and headed up to my bedroom to get dressed. My daughter Emily had left for school already to take an early mid-term.

“I have to work.”

“So do I.”

“That’s different. I get paid to do my job so I have to do it.”

One hand held my phone to my ear and the other flailed around as I yelled. Typical Italian. “You can’t put a dollar amount on helping the dead connect with the living!”

She chuckled. “Testy much?”

“Just get dressed. I’ll be there in a few.” I clicked end and got dressed.

A few minutes later we were on our way to the Masterson’s new abode. Ma hovering in the backseat, the elf perched on the dashboard and Mel glued to the back of her seat, creating as much as possible distance between her and the doll.

“I like these houses a lot better than the other ones,” Ma said.

We’d pulled into the subdivision where the Masterson’s lived. “Me, too. Looks like they upgraded.”

“What?” Mel asked. She hated hearing one side of the conversation.

“Ma likes these houses better than their last one.”

She nodded. “Yeah, me, too.”

Ma floated behind Mel and examined her head. “She’s gettin’ some grays up here. Looks like it’s time for a dye job.”

I pressed my lips together, forcing myself not to smile.

She blew on Mel’s hair and Mel instinctively scratched her head.

I pressed my lips together harder.

She did it again.

I checked the GPS on my phone even though the volume was up and it had just told me to turn left.

One of Josh’s lacrosse balls bounced from the backseat and plunked Mel on the head.

She shrieked and ducked. “What the—Fran!”

I busted out laughing.

“Ah Madone, I love gettin’ her goat,” Ma said.

Mel grabbed the lacrosse ball from the floor between her feet and tossed it behind her. It sailed right through my mom.

“Don’t have the same effect,” Ma said.

I laughed again.

“What?” Mel asked.

“When you threw the ball, it went through her,” I said. “She said it doesn’t have the same effect.”

Mel flipped around and put her hand, palm down, under her chin, then flicked it outward like my mother always did when she was mad. “I’m done, Fran. Done.” Then she busted out laughing.

I giggled. “Somehow an Asian woman doin’ an Italian hand move doesn’t have the same impact.”

“You got that right,” Ma said.

“Turn left onto McIntosh Drive,” my GPS said.

I turned left.

“Your destination is on your left. Fifty-seven twenty-five McIntosh Drive.”

I pulled the car in front of the house and cut the ignition. We all stared at the house.

“Much nicer,” Ma said.

“I like this one better,” Mel said.

“We’ve already established that,” I said.

More staring and silence and then the elf did its thing. “Give me back.”

“That’s our cue,” I said.

“I suppose you’re gonna make me go with you this time?” Mel asked.

“Abso-freaking-lutely. I’m not having a door slammed in just my face this time.”

“I figured.”

“Let’s do this.” I took the elf and got out of the car. Mel followed suit.

We rang the doorbell and waited.

“Did you hear it?” I asked.

“Hear what?”

“The bell? Did it ring?”

“I don’t think so,” Mel said.

“Hold on,” Ma said. “I’ll just take a quick peek inside and see if anyone’s home.” A second later she was back. “Ring it again. She’s in the kitchen. Probably didn’t hear it.”

I hit the bell again and listened. That time I heard it.

A short woman with a blond cropped bob-full of hair answered. “Yes?”

“Sharon Masterson?” I asked.

She gave Mel and me the once over. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Angela and this is Mel.”

Mel added her two cents. “We’re not selling anything. We’re returning something that belongs to you.”

I held up the doll and Sharon took a step back. “Where…I…I—“

Mel cut her off. “Sold it to me at a garage sale in your old neighborhood.”

She nodded. “Yes, last year.”

“I’d like to give it back,” Mel said.

I held out the doll for her to take, and she did, but she was confused. “I…I don’t understand.”

Just then a little boy, no older than three, appeared next to his mother. With a blue and white plaid blanket wrapped around one arm, he clung to her leg, the thumb of his other hand stuck in his mouth. Sharon glanced down and shifted her weight to her other leg. I knew she felt something but didn’t know what.

“Ah Madone,” Ma said. “This one’s gonna be a tear jerker.”

She wasn’t lying.

“Mommy,” the little boy said and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t in the same exact voice as the darn elf doll.

I let out a breath and prepared myself for the inevitable. “Here we go.”

Mel shifted her eyes my direction. We didn’t exchange any words, but I nodded and she knew. She nodded back.

“Mrs. Masterson, you lost a little boy, correct?”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?” Her posture tensed and her face tightened.

I needed to work quickly or I’d lose her. “Did he always have his blue and white plaid blanket wrapped around his arm?”

She stared at me, speechless, but her head dipped up and down ever so slightly.

Ma crouched down and asked the boy his name.

He pulled his thumb from his mouth. “Ayden Thompson Masterson,” he said and right back in his mouth his thumb went.

“Ayden Thompson Masterson,” I repeated. “He wanted very much to be with you.”

“What? I…I don’t understand.” Her shoulders relaxed a touch, but not enough to drop her defensive mode. “What’s going on?”

My mother was the queen of handling children, especially the ones who’d passed. “Ayden, tell me about the little doll. Is it special to you?”

“Mommy got it for me. It made me happy when I didn’t feel good. It did funny things in my room.”

While my mother talked to Ayden—feeding me information for Sharon Masterson—I worked to connect her to her little boy, and convince her of what was happening.

“Mrs. Masterson, I know this is going to sound crazy, and believe me, I know that it really does, but please, hear me out. Your son, he used this doll to connect me to you. I’m a psychic medium. Do you know what that is?”

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes and I knew I hadn’t lost her. People who’d lost loved ones wanted desperately to believe in the afterlife, in people like me, but parents were always the most desperate to believe. No parent should ever out live her children. “Yes…yes, I know.”

“May we come in?” I asked. “Your little boy is here.”

She stepped back and let us in. “Ayden’s here now?”

I nodded. He stood beside his mother, again attached to her leg. “He liked to hold onto your leg, didn’t he?”

She glanced at her leg and then back at me.

I smiled and shrugged. “He’s been doing that since he appeared a few minutes ago.

“I felt him.” She cupped her hand over her mouth and cried.

“Mommy’s sad,” Ayden said.

I bent down to the boy. “She’s not sad, Ayden. She’s happy that you’re here. Those are happy tears.”

“Mommy cried a lot.”

I nodded. “’Cause you didn’t feel good?”

“Yeah. My blood hurt.”

I looked up at his mother. “Leukemia?”

She nodded and cried harder. “He said that?”

I stood. “He said his blood hurt, so I assumed.”

“That’s what he used to say when we explained what was happening to him,” she said. “Oh my God, he’s really here, isn’t he?”

“That’s what she said,” Ma said.

I was relieved the woman couldn’t hear her.

“He thinks you’re sad,” I said. “It’s my experience that they really don’t want us to feel sad.”

She wanted to know the connection between the doll and Mel, so I explained how we found our way to her door, and then got back down on Ayden’s level. “Did you want me to say something special to your mommy for you, Ayden?”

“Yeah.”

I caught his mother’s eye and smiled and then returned my attention to her son. “You tell me and I’ll tell her, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ayden released his grip on his mom’s leg and dropped the plaid blanket from his arm. When he did, two incandescent white wings opened behind him, filling a four-foot span. They glistened, beams of light bouncing off of him. I’d never seen anything like it. The entire room lit up, a rainbow of colors rebounding from everything it touched.

“Wow,” Mel said. “What’s happening?” Her head moved in circles, scanning the room. “Are you seeing this?”

“Now this is something I’ve never seen before,” Ma said. “That boy’s somethin’ special.”

Mrs. Masteron’s mouth hung open. “The colors. What’s happening?”

I was clueless. “Ayden?”

“Are my wings pretty? Mommy said my wings would be pretty. She said I would be an angel and I am.”

I choked back the lump in my throat. “He wants to know if you think his angel wings are pretty. He said you told him he would be an angel and he wants you to know he is.”

She fell to the ground, sobbing. Mel dropped down next to her and cradled her in her arms, crying right along with her. I did my best to kept it together, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have tears rolling down my face, too.

“I get to fly through the clouds and play with puppies,” he said. “Just like Mommy promised. And they have cookies and I can have as many as I want.”

Ma and I both laughed at that.

Ayden told me his blood didn’t hurt anymore and that he liked the picture on his grave marker. He said he’d been to their house many times, but didn’t understand why a new family was there. When I mentioned that to his mother, she explained what happened.

“There were just so many memories there, so many of Ayden. It was too hard on Bella and Logan, so we decided to move.”

Ayden told me he liked the new house. While we were there, he and my mother floated around and checked it out. He liked the photos in his father’s office, especially the one of him and his dad on their boat. He said that was a fun trip, even though he had to have that big tank with the air in it with him. His mother cried harder when I told her that.

“I like it in the clouds,” he told me. “But I can come give her butterfly kisses goodnight sometimes too.”

“He likes the clouds but says he’ll come and give you butterfly kisses sometimes.”

He floated over and gave her one then, and she touched her fingertips to her face.

“I love you, Ayden,” she said.

“I love you all the way to Heaven, Mommy,” he said.

As I gave his last message to his mother, Ayden put the elf on the bookshelf and then he shimmered away.

I told his mother he was gone and we all cried.

***

An hour later, Mel and my mom and I were on our way home, emotionally drained and energized at the same time. Connecting loved ones with those who’ve passed had a way of doing that to us, especially the kids. That one was the hardest one yet. He was young, but something about him was special.

“The wings,” Ma said. “I gotta find out about those things. I wanna get me some a those.”

“I suspect they’re for special spirits,” I said.

“She wants the wings, doesn’t she?” Mel asked.

I nodded.

“I’m special,” Ma said. “I’m a special celestial spirit. I should have a pair a those things. The stuff I’ve done? I deserve ‘em.”

“I bet she’d look pretty good with all that sparkly rainbow stuff around her,” Mel said.

I shrugged. “I dunno. She isn’t really the rainbow, sparkly type, if you ask me.”

“I am so,” Ma said. “I’m all about the glow. Look at me.”

I flipped around and smirked. She was right, she was glowing.  “Well look at that, you’re glowing. Nifty trick.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I’ve been workin’ on it. It’ll be extra good when I get me a set of them wings.” With that, she shimmered away.

I shook my head, laughing. “So, that was pretty intense, wasn’t it?”

Mel released a long sigh. “So intense but so rewarding.”

“I can’t imagine losing a child.”

She held up a hand. “Do not even go there. It’s almost Christmas. Think about how that would be.” She pressed her hand into her chest. “It pains me just thinking about it.”

“I know. My kids make me crazy but I can’t imagine life without them.”

“Ditto. I don’t want anything bad happening to my kids. Sure, there are days I want to punt kick them out the window, but not the second story one or anything.”

“And not the big window.”

“No, not the big one. The small one, like the one for the den.”

“Exactly, because it’d hurt less.”

“Exactly.”

We both giggled.

As I parked in Mel’s driveway, I smiled at my best friend and said, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t stuff the elf in the mailbox?”

She pushed open the car door. “So glad.”

The End

Keep reading for a sneak peek into the contemporary romance novella The Inn at Laurel Creek by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson.

THE INN AT LAUREL CREEK

"I don't believe in miracles," I told Stan Brinker, the owner of The Inn at Laurel Creek Bed and Breakfast. I'd just checked in, and as we walked to my room the old man told me stories of miracles and romances that happened when people stayed at the one hundred and twenty-two-year-old home.

"You don't got to believe me," he said. "Just you wait and see. All sorts of miracles happen here." He pointed to a set of opened French doors at the end of the hall. "Seems a lot of them happen right out there, too." He dragged my suitcase to the last door on the right, right next to the French doors, labeled the Serenity Suite, and opened the door with his key.

That's just what I needed, too. Serenity. "Thank you, Mr. Brinker," I said, grabbing hold of my suitcase and pulling it into the room. "Like I said, I don't believe in miracles but if I do happen to see one, I'll make sure to let you know."

"It's Stan to family, and anyone that stays with us here at the Inn is family, you hear?" He tipped his beat-up, brown cowboy hat toward me and smiled. "You have a mighty fine stay, Ms. Howard. My wife, Lou, serves dinner in the dining room at six o'clock sharp. Tonight's fried catfish, her specialty. You ought not to miss it. If you need anything before that, just holler at one-a us. We're here to please."

"Thank you," I said, closing the door behind him.

I flung myself onto the four-poster bed. "Ah, serenity," I said out loud. "Exactly what the doctor ordered." I scooted to the top of the bed and lay my head on the pillows. They were soft and fluffy, and all I wanted was to bury my head into them and sleep for five days straight. Unfortunately, sleep wasn't what I came to the Inn for. I'd come to have a little me time, to gather my thoughts and figure out how to mend my shattered heart. I was determined to pick up the broken pieces of it that Matthew Bollander left three months ago when he walked out of my life and straight into the arms of another woman. While Matthew and his fiancée—yes, it happened that fast—spent the weekend with friends and family during their elaborate southern wedding, I intended to move on with my life. I didn't know how, but I had five days to figure it out, and I'd be damned if I wouldn't succeed.

I dragged myself off the cozy bed and meandered around the room, inspecting every corner and knickknack, my hand sweeping over the furniture like a kid in a candy shop. The soft pink chair, pushed into the corner by the window, reminded me of my grandmother's. I plopped onto the cushion and wiggled into the seat. "This one's just right," I said. "Perfect spot to list the reasons I'm better off without Matthew."

I dragged myself from the snug, cushy pink patterned chair and wandered over to the fireplace, a bricked in, old school one, with three logs all set for a relaxing fire. I imagined sitting next to the fire that night, working through my emotions with a bottle of Alto Adige Pinot Bianco. I opened my suitcase, took out the bottle and placed in on the dresser, and then unpacked the rest of the suitcase, placing my toiletries in the bathroom.

"Oh wow," I moaned. "That tub is amazing." An old-fashioned copper claw-footed tub sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by candles in all different shapes and sizes. A white velvet robe lay over the tub. I picked it up and held it to my face. The silky smooth material melted into my skin. "Perfection."

I finished unpacking, changed into a fresh pair of cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, grabbed my journal, my iPod, a pen and my ear buds and headed downstairs. Lou was dusting furniture in the main sitting room. "Hi," I said. "I'm Carly Howard. I'm staying in the Serenity Suite."

Lou smiled, wrapped her arms around me squeezed. "Oh, blessed to meet you, my dear." She stretched out her arms, holding me at arms’ length. "Why, aren't you just the prettiest girl ever?"

My face warmed with both pleasure and embarrassment. "Thank you."

From the looks of her skin, she'd spent too much time in the sun, age and laugh lines imbedded into her face. Her long, white hair, pulled back into a bun, was smooth as satin, and she had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Lou was probably fifty to fifty-five but looked older. She absolutely radiated sincere sweetness and I instantly adored her.

"My husband said you got here safe and sound. He didn't go on about those miracles now, did he?"

I nodded. "Maybe a little."

"That Stan." She waved her hand. "He's always tellin' our guests about 'em. I keep tellin' him he's gonna scare away our visitors, but he keeps on talkin'. Yackity, yackity, yack, all day long. Lawd, my ears. He's lucky he's cuter than a pig's tail or I'd-a kicked him to the curb by now." She winked. "But even though this old house is full of miracles, talkin' about it doesn't make it happen for ever'one. Sometimes it don't happen at all. It's gotta be the right person, and the right time."

I giggled. "It's okay. I don't believe in miracles anyway."

"Oh, well you just might after a night or two here." She went back to her dusting. "And it just might be you one happens to."

"I can deal with that," I said. "Oh, do you happen to have a bottled water? I'd like to take a walk by the creek and maybe sit there for a bit. It's a little warm out, and a water would be nice."

She put down the duster and motioned for me to follow her. "I've got just the thing for ya," she said. We walked into the back hall near the kitchen, and she pulled open a drawer under the stairs. "This here's our hiking kit," she said, handing me a small drawstring bag. "It's got a little throw to sit on if you need to rest for a spell, some bug repellant, because them bugs over at Laurel Creek are ever'where this time of year." She crooked her finger and headed into the kitchen. I followed. "I'll get you a few bottled waters and some snacks. Skinny thing like you." Her eyes traveled down my body and back to my eyes. "You could stand to get some meat on them bones."

I wasn't as skinny as she thought, but I wasn't going to turn down snacks. She handed me two bottles of water and a bag with homemade chocolate chip cookies. My mouth watered from the smell of the freshly baked little bites of heaven. "Those look yummy," I said.

"Just baked them a bit ago. It's my momma's secret recipe. Been in the family for years, but if you're as nice as you seem, I might could give you a few hints."

I took a cookie from the bag and bit into it. "Oh my gosh. This is incredible."

Lou winked. "It's all about the secret ingredient," she said. "Now, you take that bag, and you go and have yourself some good ol' quality time up by the creek, ya hear?"

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Lou walked me to the door. "Thanks for the snacks, and the throw," I told her. "I didn't think to bring a throw with me."

She patted my back. "Don't you worry about a thing, honey. That's what we're here for. We aim to make you feel right at home." She patted my back one more time, and as I walked down the front porch steps said, "Now, walk on out that-a-way, and go left on down yonder by the fence gate, and the creek is just a stone's throw up the path. Now don't you be late for supper, you hear? It's at six o'clock on the spot."

"Yes, ma'am." I said.

***

The path had a slight incline that continued to build, and I was surprised to realize it wasn't as easy to navigate as I'd expected. I needed to get in better shape once I got back to the city. The path curved and dipped around sugar maple trees with wild, florid azalea bushes covered with pink and purple flowers growing beneath them. Springtime in northern Georgia was stunning, ablaze with vividly colored flowers in yellows, purples, pinks and reds. If anything, the timing of Matthew's wedding gave me a chance to relish in the beauty of nature. And sneeze. A lot. I knew my allergies would be assaulted, so pulled out my allergy spray from the bag and gave myself a few shots up my nose—never enjoyable, but always effective.

The creek began at a dip in the path, and I followed it for a bit, listening to the water bounce off the rocks and travel upstream. I found the perfect spot just where the creek turned and began its descent. I spread the throw Lou gave me and lay down on it, the sun hitting my skin as it peeked through the trees. The rays were the perfect temperature, heating my skin but not making me sweat.

"I could do this forever," I said, closing my eyes and relaxing.

I wasn't sure how long I lay like that, my eyes closed, breathing in the fresh scents of lavender and pine, but the slight sound of soft, muted and rhythmic tones vibrated through the air and grabbed my attention. Someone was playing an acoustic guitar nearby, keeping me from dropping completely into slumber. I sat up and scanned the area for the sweet-sounding melody.

I found the strummer across the creek. A man with shaggy blond hair, just a little too long, wearing a blue t-shirt and khaki shorts sat on a similar throw, with an exact copy of the drawstring bag Lou gave me. He caught me gazing in his direction and our eyes locked. He lifted his mouth into a smile so sexy my body lurched forward, as if being pulled to him. I pushed my hands into the ground to stop myself from running across the creek to him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I wake you?" His voice was low and sultry and had me melting into a puddle of Carly mush before he finished a sentence.

My voice came out high and pitchy. "Oh no, not at all. I was just lying here relaxing. Please keep playing. It's beautiful."

"Thanks, it's just a little something I've started working on. It's not finished." He smiled again, and very specific parts of my body became fully aware of his presence.

"You wrote that? Wow. That's really good."

He nodded. "Thanks. It's what I do. I write music. Name's Ben." He raised a hand and waved it, and I couldn't help but notice his long, thin fingers, how they swayed as he waved, and how he spread them wide, only to fold them back together again.

I breathed in a quick breath, catching myself before I let out a squeal of pleasure from watching that small but alluring hand gesture.

What was wrong with me?

Ben. Ben was cute. And Ben played the guitar. Ben wrote music. And Ben had a smile that made my stomach jump. Not to mention that Ben had broad shoulders and thin, muscular arms that filled up and busted out of the short sleeves of his shirt. I reached my arm out, hoping it could stretch across the suddenly monstrous sized creek to touch his muscles. I thought Ben might be just what I needed to fix my broken heart. "Hi Ben, I'm Carly. Nice to meet you." I waved back.

"You too," he said. "I'll let you get back to your relaxing. Got any special requests? I can play and sing just about anything."

I didn't want him to play the guitar. I wanted him to strum his fingers all over my body instead. I bit my lip to stop myself from making that suggestion.

Of course, when it came to figuring out a song, my mind went blank. "Uh." I pulled my blonde curls back and wrapped them into a ponytail holder. "I can't think of anything, but please, keep playing."

"How about this?" He strummed the strings and a combination moan, hum, sexy groaning sound escaped his mouth.

Good Lord, he could sing too. It made me squirm, and my insides melted. After a few more of those sexy sounds, I recognized the song. "Sunday Morning," a sensual, romantic ballad by Maroon Five. Only he sang it better than the singer, at least in my opinion. I touched my chin to make sure my jaw wasn't hanging open.

There was something familiar in Ben's voice, but I couldn't quite place it. It almost sounded as if he was trying to mimic a singer from a band, but the band's name escaped me. He was really good and could probably out-sing anyone I'd heard on the radio as of late, including whoever that elusive band singer was.

He sang the whole song, and the only time he didn't maintain eye contact with me was when he closed his eyes, hitting the higher notes. I was uncomfortable but not in a bad way, shifting on the throw, sitting on my hands and resting them on my lap. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Watching the way his hands moved, the way his fingers touched the strings of the guitar, the way his Adam's apple floated up and down his neck when his voice lowered. The way he licked his lips and smiled as he sang the chorus, gazing steadily into my eyes the whole time.

My heart rate kicked up a notch and my blood rushed through my body, warming those same parts that awoke just a minute or two before. I crossed my legs instinctively in an attempt to hide the attraction my body wanted to make obvious. Tiny pellets of sweat formed on my forehead. What the heck was happening to me? He was just a guy playing the guitar, but my senses went into overdrive. I could hear every chord his fingers played, every note his voice hit. I could practically feel his eyes blink, taste the moisture on his lips as he licked them between breaths. I wanted to jump up and run, run across that creek and throw myself at him like a pre-teen at a boy band concert.

When he finished, I golf clapped—a pathetic attempt at being cute. Truth be told, I could listen to him forever, but I feared if I did I would actually become that pre-teen at a boy band concert, so instead, I gathered my things to leave. "That was really amazing. You're incredibly talented," I said, stumbling over my words. "I'd love to stay and listen some more, but I need to get back and get ready for dinner."

He set the guitar on the throw. "Got it. No worries. I'll be here tomorrow, too. Same time. Same place." He ran a hand through his hair. "If you're not busy, of course. I'm always happy to have an audience."

Did his teeth sparkle when he smiled or was my imagination in high gear?

"Great. That's great," I said, struggling to speak, afraid I'd say something pre-teenish. "I may just come by. If I'm not busy, I mean." I waved as I walked away, and said, "Nice meeting you, Ben."

"You too, Carly."

He said Carly with such a heated, soft sexiness I actually moaned a little.

About Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

Former Booktrope Editions and AmazonEncore author and editor Carolyn Ridder Aspenson is the best selling author of the cozy mystery Angela Panther Series, Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Mystery Unbreakable Bonds An Angela Panther Mystery and Uncharted Territory An Angela Panther Mystery, The Inn At Laurel Creek, a contemporary romance novella, Santa's Gift, a Cumming Christmas Novella and 8 To Lose The Weight, a life style eating program.

Aspenson is a freelance writer and editor living in Atlanta, GA. For more information, visit carolynridderaspenson.com.

MORE GREAT READS

FROM

CAROLYN RIDDER ASPENSON

The Inn at Laurel Creek

DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT?   CARLY HOWARD DOESN'T.

Frustrated and hurt by the news of her ex-boyfriend's pending marriage to a virtual stranger, Carly escapes to a small-town bed and breakfast in the mountains of North Georgia to heal her wounded heart.

At the Inn Carly meets struggling musician Ben, and their instant connection is undeniable. Even though she knows next to nothing about the sexy singer with the crooked smile and sensitive soul, that doesn't stop her heart from suddenly feeling like it’s home.  

Can Carly’s newfound feelings survive when she discovers Ben isn't who he seems?

Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Mystery

In UNFINISHED BUSINESS AN ANGELA PANTHER MYSTERY, #1 AMAZON bestselling author Carolyn Ridder Aspenson introduces her now trademark blend of witty dialog and hilarious banter in the first book of her hilarious and heartwarming paranormal chick lit, cozy mystery, Angela Panther series. 

When Angela Panther's mother Fran Richter wakes her up in the middle of the night ranting about stolen Hershey Bars, Angela thinks her mother's got a screw loose. And then it hits her. Her mother is dead. Just a few hours before, Angela watched as the funeral home staff nearly dropped her mother's body off the gurney while sliding her into the hearse. So maybe she's the one that's nuttier than a fruitcake?

But Fran keeps popping in and with a volcano full of drama already brewing at home—crazy or not—Angela's grateful for her mother's presence.

It's the other ghosts Angela can do without.

Seems Fran's return opened a portal between Angela and the other side and ghosts are hitting up the reluctant psychic medium for help. From the naked British guy juggling balls in the coffee shop parking lot to the woman desperately trying to save her sick child, Angela must find a way to balance her own life with the unfinished business of the dead.

Unbreakable Bonds An Angela Panther Mystery

"Be careful what you wish for because karma has a way of biting you in the butt." That's what Angela Panther's mother always said.

 And boy was she was right.

 When Angela first discovered her gift to gab with ghosts, she fought it tooth and nail. But the second she decided it wasn't so bad, tragedy hit and the universe decided to teach her a lesson.

Now she's unable to chat with the other side and is crying out for a re-do.

When her best friend Mel suspects her husband of cheating, she asks Angela to help her prove it. They concoct the perfect plan to get the goods on him, but to make it work they'll need help from Angela's mother, Fran. 

There's just one tiny little problem--Fran's dead.

As the two best friends set out on a cheater-catching adventure, they hope Fran can use her celestial super powers to help, and prove that the bond between those who've crossed over with the ones they've left behind is never broken. 

In UNBREAKABLE BONDS, AN ANGELA PANTHER MYSTERY, AMAZON and Barnes & Noble bestselling author Carolyn Ridder Aspenson’s snarky dialog and hilarious banter between psychic medium Angela and her best friend Mel will leave you laughing in tears, and the touching scenes between the living dead will tug at your heart strings.

Uncharted Territory, An Angela Panther Mystery

A Five-Star Rated Mystery!

Suburban housewife Angela Panther didn't want to communicate with the dead, but the universe had other plans...

When an unidentified fourteen-year-old boy takes a dive off an interstate overpass, to solve the case, Atlanta area detective Aaron Banner calls on some unlikely help—from psychic medium Angela Panther. Banner knows she's legit, and knows she'll get to the truth about his junior John Doe—was the boy's death suicide, or murder? The problem is, the spirit can't remember who he was or the night he died, and to make matters worse, he doesn't care. Instead, he convinces Angela to focus on another spirit, one different from Angela's usual, garden-variety ghost.

To complicate matters, Angela's best friend Mel, newly single and on the prowl, has her sights set on the sexy Detective Banner, and Angela's mother drives her even more crazy dead than alive.

To solve the dead duo's dilemmas, armed with little more than their double lattés and a tiny pink bottle of wannabe pepper spray, Angela and her sex-starved sidekick Mel must venture into the dark underbelly of Atlanta and come face-to-face with a gang of saggy-pantsed hoodlums ready to take them out. Will they make it out alive, or end up pushing up daisies alongside the spirits they're trying to help?

In UNCHARTED TERRITORY, AN ANGELA PANTHER MYSTERY, Carolyn Ridder Aspenson's witty dialog between psychic medium Angela Panther and her best friend, Mel will keep you laughing out loud, while the tear-jerking scenes between the living and dead will leave you hoping the connection with those we love is never lost.

To be notified of future releases and receive a free copy of Carolyn's holiday novella, Santa's Gift, A Cumming Christmas Novella, visit

http://carolynridderaspenson.com

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