Fairytale Come Alive by Kristen Ashley

laughter, catching his tentative grin before she took a step back and wrapped her arms around her aching sides.
    She hadn’t laughed this hard since…
    Since…
    “Sally, come here, baby, let’s get you cleaned up.” Prentice had walked forward two steps and was holding his hand out to his daughter.
    He was smiling warmly at his daughter but he wasn’t amused. How Isabella knew this, she didn’t know.
    But she did.
    Isabella’s laughter died away.
    Sally dropped the bag on the counter, hopped down, still giggling and trailing flour, and took her father’s hand.
    Isabella watched them turn the corner to walk down the hall to bathroom.
    She decided she couldn’t worry about Prentice.
    So he thought she was playing a game. He would think that, of course.
    But she wasn’t and that was the truth.
    So, she’d just ignore him and focus on the children.
    And Prentice would just have to…
    Well…
    Deal .
    Isabella looked at Jason, tipped her head to the counter and suggested, “Let’s see what we can do about this chicken, shall we?”
    Without further coaxing, Jason jumped off the stool to help.
    * * * * *
    Fiona
    Fiona floated crossed legged above the floor next to Isabella’s bed while Isabella slept.
    She poked and poked again and poked again, her finger going through each time, at the leather-bound book on the top of the pile on the nightstand.
    She’d gone back to hating Isabella Austin Evangahlala.
    Not because Isabella had said she’d been jealous of Fiona, and sounded like she meant it.
    Not because she said all those nice things about her, and sounded like she meant those too.
    Not because she looked good in yoga pants, that arse would look good in anything, even a muumuu, and those shoulders… and her arms! Bitch.
    No, because she’d filled Fiona’s house with laughter, she’d made Jason grin and she’d also not only miraculously rescued dinner, the children had loved it and even Prentice, who looked like he wanted to rip Isabella’s head off all night, though he was careful not to show it in front of the children, cleaned his plate (twice).
    Fiona wanted her family to have a decent meal and she wanted them to start laughing and smiling again.
    Of course she did.
    But she also didn’t.
    Not with Isabella or any other woman, for that matter, except her sister Morag, or Prentice’s sister, Debs, but especially not Isabella.
    Throughout dinner ( and pudding), Sally had chattered, a far more relaxed, almost but not quite like Bella of old Isabella had encouraged it and even Jason had entered the conversation whenever there was a lull in Sally’s prattle, which wasn’t often.
    Her family had eaten the food like they’d never get another meal, the sundaes had been a huge hit and Isabella, who surprised Fiona, she wouldn’t have expected fancy, American heiress Isabella Austin Evangahlala capable of it, left the kitchen spotless clean.
    With all her anger at being dead (which was a lot ) and all her anger at Isabella Evangahlala being alive (which was also a lot ), Fiona poked at the book.
    It moved.
    She stared at it.
    She’d been poking at things, pushing things, trying to blow on things now for over a year and she’d never made even one of Sally’s drawings on the refrigerator so much as sway.
    But that book was half an inch off-kilter from the rest of them and that was not how Little Miss Tidy and Perfect Isabella Evangahlala left it.
    Then she heard it and her ghostly head snapped to the side.
    Jason .
    She dematerialized and materialized in his room.
    She should have known when he got out the guitar. It happened every time he brought out her guitar. It hadn’t happened in awhile, so long, Fiona thought it was over.
    He was screaming.
    Nightmares.
    He’d had them since before she died. So, when she was just sick in bed and too weak to get to him, she’d heard that screaming with her true ears and she’d detested it but detested it more that she was the cause of it.
    She still detested