My Midlife Crisis, My Rules (Good to the Last Death #4) - Robyn Peterman

Chapter One

The anticipation in the room was visceral—almost physical. Something invisible pressed against me and my breath came in jerky spurts. None of us—not Gideon, Charlie, Tim, Heather, Missy or I—had any clue what would occur in the next few minutes.

Missy’s hands were warm in mine. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

The situation was bizarre. The fact my beautiful human friend, Missy, believed me and had absorbed that Immortality was a reality without losing her shit was mind-boggling. It had taken me a few months to realize I wasn’t insane.

Missy had just found out that the old wives’ tale she’d never believed about her family being safe harbors for souls in peril was not a wives’ tale. She barely batted an eye. My dearest friend had unknowingly harbored my mother’s soul inside her for over thirty years.

“We’ve always been connected, Daisy,” Missy said.

“Always,” I agreed.

“And we always will be.” Missy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Just call to her, Daisy. She’ll come.”

A light jasmine-scented breeze blew through my friend’s colorful living room and an ethereal lavender glow surrounded her. Breathing in the scent, I closed my eyes and connected with my best friend since childhood in a way I never had before.

“Alana,” I called out tentatively. “Come to me. It’s safe now.”

I waited.

Nothing happened.

I could feel the tension of the others.

Missy squeezed my hands. “Don’t be scared. Did you call her Alana when you were a child?”

“No,” I said with a little laugh, my eyes still closed.

“Call her what she will recognize,” she suggested.

“You think that will work?” I asked.

“I know it will,” Missy replied. “I can feel it.”

I’d always known Missy was special. It wasn’t until this moment that I understood the meaning of the word.

“Mom? Mama?” I tried again. “It’s me, Daisy—your daughter. I’m here to lead you into the light. You’ll be safe with me. I love you so very much and… I want to save you like you saved me. Please come to me. It’s safe to leave Missy now.”

The wind picked up and my eyes shot open. Missy’s eyes rolled back in her head and a beautiful golden soul orb appeared on her shoulder. I quickly wrapped my arms around Missy so she wouldn’t fall to the floor, then I gently kissed the soul on her shoulder.

It wiggled and glowed. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Did we do it?” Missy asked, holding on to me for balance as she came back from wherever she’d just gone.

“We did it,” I said softly, carefully taking my mother’s soul into my hands and leading Missy to the couch.

“Will she stay in that form?” Missy asked, marveling at the orb.

“No,” my father said, approaching me with tears streaming down his handsome face. “Alana, take another form. Come and say hello to your family.”

The Archangel waved his hand and the room filled with an enchantment so strong, I found it difficult to breathe. Shimmering gold flecks rained down from above, creating a sparkling backdrop to the magic that was happening before my eyes.

My father put his arm around me, and we watched in awe as the golden orb morphed into the woman I’d been missing my whole life. Her smile undid me, and my father continued to cry.

“I am so sorry, Alana,” he whispered hoarsely. “So sorry.”

She floated over and circled us a few times. I worried she didn’t recognize me. I’d been five when she’d died, and now I was forty.

“I’m Daisy,” I told her as she hovered in front of me and studied my face.

“I know,” she replied. “I’m your mother.”

I giggled. “I know.”

“You’re stunning,” she whispered.

“So are you,” I said.

She tilted her head to the side and laughed. The sound hit me in the gut and went straight to my heart.

“Silly girl,” she said, touching my nose, then looking at the man she’d loved more than any other. “Michael.”

“Alana,” he replied.

My mother’s attention was now completely focused on him. The love between them was undeniable. I was heartbroken that he wouldn’t be able to feel her touch like I could. Only a Death Counselor could experience the touch of a ghost. Archangels didn’t have that gift.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” she said. “I did what I had to do.”

He nodded and reached for her. His hand went through her, but he kept it extended. “I would have done the same in a heartbeat.”

She smiled. “I know.”

“Mom,” I said, hating to interrupt them, but worried that Clarissa might show up unexpectedly. I was desperate to