Cyncerely Yours

good,” Lily assured her. “It’ s incredible. I knew the fabric was supposed to respond to the wearer's body, but I had no idea . . . look.” Gently she turned Cynna towards the small mirror over the sink.

    Cynna's breath caught. A sunrise sky flowed over her breasts in a thousand shades of blue, from twilight to shimmery ice. Blue that rippled here and there into white, pink, yellow tinged with orange . . . colors so clear and soft they looked like air itself smiling at the approach of day.

    Colors, she saw as she took a step back, that moved when she did. " Wow.”

    “I’ve never — what the hell?”

    The glass vial that had held the seawater floated straight up from the ledge where Cynna had set it — then dropped, smashing on the concrete floor.

    “Shit!”She’ d been hoping — but no, she couldn't be that lucky, could she? Cynna put her hands on her hips. " That is not the way to go about getting yourself forgiven, woman!”

    “Uh . . . Cynna? You talking to me?”

    “Of course not. Mrs. Ryerson.” Cynna glowered at the broken bottle. " I don't have anything to sweep up that mess with.” She bent so she could pick up the biggest pieces of glass.

    Lily knelt and pushed her hand away. “Move. The bride can't be bleeding when she walks down the aisle. Ah . . . about this Mrs. Ryerson. She levitates things?”

    “She’ s haunting me. Started about two weeks ago.” Cynna shook her head.

    “Never mind her. Come on, you can't get all that up by hand. Let's go.”

    “Shoes,” Lily said, dropping the shards she’ d collected in the trash. “You’ re forgetting your shoes. I take it Mrs. Ryerson is dead?”

    Cynna pulled her new ballet flats out of the tote. “Long dead.”

    “Who is she?”

    “She was a neighbour about a zillion years ago.” She stepped into the shoes and wiggled her toes. Pity she couldn't wear boots with the dress, but these didn't feel bad.

    “Nosy type, always thought us kids were up to something. For some reason she picked me as her favourite target, but that was so long ago . . . I don't know why she suddenly showed up. Doesn't make sense, does it?” She glanced at the mirror and smiled in spite of everything. This was one killer dress. " Come on. I'm getting married today no matter how many temper fits that stupid ghost throws.”

    Lily stuffed the tote into one of the stalls, where maybe it wouldn't get stolen. “How do you know about this ghost?”

    “Oh, when stuff started happening I went to see a medium. Friend of a friend, you know? She's pretty good.”

    “Why is—”

    “I don’ t want to talk about it now. I want to get married.” Before the fizz in her stomach turned into a sick funk — or Mrs. Ryerson came up with a new way to bedevil her.

    “Okay, sure.” Lily slung her smart little leather purse onto her shoulder. “But why do you think the ghost is this Mrs. Ryerson?”

    Cynna sighed. Of course Lily wouldn't leave it alone. If Lily was breathing, she was asking questions. " Because she told me so when the medium brought her through. She claims she wants forgiveness, but . . . ” Cynna sent a glare around the small bathroom. “ I told her I forgave her, but she's still here, isn't she? Breaking stuff. Puncturing tires.”

    Lily's eyebrows shot up. “She did that?”

    “I’ m betting on it.” Cynna yanked open the door.

    “I thought ghosts couldn’t affect material objects.”

    “It’ s really rare. I don't know how I got so lucky.” Cynna stepped out and took a deep breath. Oh, God. She was so scared. “Forget about her. I want to see the look on Cullen's face when he gets a look at this dress.”

    Muggy air filled Cynna's lungs as if she'd just stepped out of the shower, but so far the rain was holding off. She thanked God and Mary and anyone else who might be listening as she hurried down the path.

    The open area where her guests and her groom waited was just down a short, woodsy trail. Cynna could hear a low buzz of conversation and a few birds calling. The blue of the sky was ten times brighter than her gown, but not a white more lovely. She kept glancing down at the fairy silk.

    “Slow down!” Lily called. “I’ d rather not make our entrance at a run.”

    “What? Oh, right.” Cynna forced her feet to pause and let Lily catch up. “You look gr eat. Did I tell you that you look great?”

    Cynna hadn't gone for bridesmaid gear , which seemed designed for maximum ugly. An annoying little