Nothing you love is lost. Not really. Things, people — they always go away, sooner or later. You can’t hold them, any more than you can hold moonligh… - Bruce Coville

As it turned out, he was wrong about that. The last guest didn't show up until we were eating our dessert.
That was when the ghost sat down in the empty chair-directly across from me.

"Our leading lady saw the theater's ghost last night."
My dad was really cool. Other than raising an eyebrow, he didn't miss a beat.
"How did she take it?" he asked, his voice as calm as if we were discussing a change in Lydia's costume.
"Not too well," said Chris. "She sort of flipped out." She shot me a sideward glance and said, "To tell you the truth, Mr. Tanleven, I don't think she's very mature. When Nine and I saw the ghost, we handled it a lot more calmly than Lydia did."
I would like to be able to tell you that I stayed calm when Chris dropped that particular bombshell. The truth is I nearly spit a mouthful of mashed potatoes across the table. As for my father, he just raised his eyebrow a little higher.
"Is that so? I don't think Nine bothered to mention it to me."
No one said anything for a moment. The only sounds around the table were the ones that came from me trying to swallow the potatoes while I worked out a way to kill Chris without getting caught.

"...You should make someone a wonderful husband."

Even the tips of Jamie's ears were crimson now. But instead of retreating, he clenched his jaw and looked directly into her eyes.

"I suppose I would," he said. "Are you interested?"