Black Opal Read Free Page A

help but stare at the fancy trim running around the edges of the high ceiling. It reminded me of tiers on a high-dollar wedding cake. Nadine, who gave me a sideways glance, set a silver tea set on a Queen Anne style tea table. Screw style. I bet that table is the real deal and worth thousands of dollars.
    The more I took in all the details, the more hurt and scared I felt. Did Dean just forget to tell me about all this? My ass he did. As usual, my hurt and fear defaulted to satisfying, blistering anger. I’d only thought myself angry about the receipt. Dean’s omission of this place and the people in it infuriated me.
    Movement outside the open door caught my eye, and I stared at the area, halfway expecting yet another relative to join us. The stained glass window from which the hallway got most of its light cast the area in a surreal, funhouse glow. About the time I decided I’d seen nothing, something flashed through the area again. I opened my second sight in time to glimpse the girl I’d seen on the road. The one who had been in a scuffle.
    This close, she gave off a feeling I knew well. The hair on my arms raised, and I suppressed a shiver. It hadn’t taken long at all for the dead to find me. Great. Just great. If my luck held, these people would find out I see ghosts and ostracize me just like people have all my life. Realizing my worries had taken on a fever pitch, I forced them to a stop, focused on the living occupants of the room, and took deep breaths.
    Dean’s ex-wife and his sister settled down on a Victorian courting couch. Bet it’s original to the house.
    Looking at Lisette, I believed more than ever she’d shared an elegant meal with him in the revolving restaurant atop Reunion Tower in Dallas. There was no way I could compete with her creamy, unmarred skin, her shining, expensively styled hair, or her sophisticated outfit. My cuteness was a honky-tonk guitar to her symphony of beauty. She held my eyes with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
    “You sit right here next to me, Peri,” Mrs. Turgeau patted the spot next to her on an expensively upholstered love seat. I ran my hand over the fabric, feeling the bumps of the raised floral pattern. Please don’t let me spill anything .
    Mrs. Turgeau and the ex-wife each took a treat and nibbled daintily. The sister waved the treats away with a smile. I resisted the urge to grab huge handfuls and shove them into my mouth just to be obnoxious. I needed to do something to feel in control of the situation, so I started running my mouth.
    “Your home is amazing.” I twisted in my seat to peer at a Tiffany lamp on the end table. I stopped when I realized they all watched me, eyebrows raised, with varying degrees of curiosity in their eyes. “Is this the Venetian pattern?”
    Dean’s ex-wife leaned forward . “Very good. I can never keep all the patterns straight.”
    She surprised me. If she was seeing Dean, wouldn’t she act catty and jealous?
    “That one dates back to the 1920s,” Julienne said. “My grandmother, Fayette, purchased it. Do you know Tiffany lamps?”
    “Only a little. Sometimes I fill in at an antique store. I hear the names of stuff, but I’ve never owned any of it myself.”
    Dean’s ex nodded in understanding even though she looked like she had a houseful of Tiffany lamps.
    “This home has been in my family since 1825,” Julienne Turgeau said with a smile she probably intended to put me at ease. It only made my guts grind tighter. “I don’t know if I’d own half the items in it had they not been hand-me-downs.”
    “Did you see them in concert?” Dean’s sister spoke for the first time since she introduced herself, gesturing at my t-shirt.
    “A long time ago.” We exchanged smiles. “They were good.”
    “Dean and I went to see them once.” Lisette’s voice sounded soft, cultured. It reminded me of the man I met in the parking lot. I started to ask about him, but once Dean’s ex got talking, it seemed like