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Chapters (35)
  1. SOMETHING IN THE SNOW
  2. Books by Richelle Mead
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgments
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Chapter 11
  17. Chapter 12
  18. Chapter 13
  19. Chapter 14
  20. Chapter 15
  21. Chapter 16
  22. Chapter 17
  23. Chapter 18
  24. Chapter 19
  25. Chapter 20
  26. Chapter 21
  27. Chapter 22
  28. Chapter 23
  29. Chapter 24
  30. Chapter 25
  31. Chapter 26
  32. Chapter 27
  33. Chapter 28
  34. Chapter 29
  35. Copyright Page

“Yeah, but it might be a while. Her schedule’s pretty booked.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “The ghost kind of adds character. Maybe I won’t even have her get rid of it.”

We scheduled the appointment, and I hung up, thinking bleakly that that had been ten wasted minutes of my life I would never get back. I also found myself again thinking of Dorian. Not that he would do phone customer service, of course. But that customer’s personality was exactly the kind Dorian loved to taunt. I could see him nodding along seriously with the guy: “Intriguing. Tell me more about your ghost.”

Still, it occurred to me after a few days that I really was making Candace’s life easier. I was also helping out Charles, who was relieved to no longer have to deal with air-conditioning ghosts. I decided the annoyance of customer service was a small price to pay for their hospitality.

A week or so into my gainful employment, Evan surprised me with a daytime visit. He was in his usual jeans and T-shirt but had obviously cleaned up and didn’t have the typical wear and tear from working outdoors.

“Wondered if you wanted to go see some more local sights,” he told me. “There’s a plantation south of here that’s a historic monument.”

I made a face. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really like the history of those places. It’s hard for me to get too excited.”

He nodded, his face serious. “The history is ugly, but it’s an amazing piece of architecture. And sometimes ... sometimes it’s good to have a reminder of the evils of the past.”

The comment surprised me. I’d known Evan was neither stupid nor close-minded, but much like with Candace, it was easy to think he was just all laid-back charm. “Okay,” I said. I glared at Candace’s business phone. “Voice mail can take over today.”

We drove deep into the country, about an hour and a half away from Candace’s. The land was beautiful, and deep-rooted trees fought fiercely to maintain their green leaves in otherwise yellow and brown terrain. Evan left the windows open, and I leaned back with eyes closed, enjoying the rush of air over me.