by Traci Wilton
She left her suite, glad that she and Minnie had devised a plan for a substantial breakfast since they had more people over the holiday. The Garcia children were already downstairs, as was her father.
“Good morning,” she called. Her dad and Emily sat at the kitchen table while Minnie made breakfast. Silva batted at a toy that Emily had on a string, and Maddie colored on a piece of paper, a cup of hot chocolate cooling before her.
They greeted her with various hellos and smiles. Her dad said, “And good morning to you, Charlene. You look chipper today.”
“I feel good,” she replied. Amazing what sleep could do. She patted Maddie on the head in passing. “How about you, little munchkin? Did you sleep well?”
Maddie nodded. “Yes, I like the fluffy bed. Feels like a big pillow.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she said. Charlene kept her knowledge of her and her sister sneaking out of bed to spy presents between her and Jack. “Are your parents up?”
“Yup.” Maddie stirred a marshmallow in her cup and attempted to chop it with her spoon. “They’re in the room, making plans for us. We might go see some witches.”
“That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” Charlene had left brochures in their room giving them information on all the tours and museums. It might be Christmas, but witches and ghosts never went out of style in Salem.
“What’s that?” Maddie pointed to a quiche that Minnie had pulled from the oven. “It looks like pie. I like pie.”
“Why, that’s a cheese and mushroom quiche, and the other has ham and tomato,” Minnie told her. “We also have a tray of blueberry muffins, or chocolate chip. Does that sound good to you?”
“Uh . . . chocolate chip?” Maddie rubbed her tummy. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t have to ma’am me, I’m just Minnie. That’s good enough.”
“Minnie—like Minnie Mouse?” The little girl laughed, her brown eyes wide.
“Well, I’m too big for a mouse”—Minnie wiggled her nose—“but yes, we have the same name.”
Happy listening to the banter in her kitchen, Charlene cut up fresh fruit—juicy slices of honeydew, cantaloupe, and watermelon—to put on a large, oval tray. They always kept a basket filled with red apples, mandarin oranges, and bananas for the guests to help themselves.
Maddie peeled a mandarin orange in between sharing her thoughts with everyone. Charlene couldn’t help but be charmed by her.
“Did you do one of the tours last night?” Charlene asked.
“Nah, we just walked around down at the harbor. There were some shops there. See my bracelet? Do you like it?” Maddie put her little arm out and Charlene admired the beaded bracelet with a black cat charm.
“Very much. What did your sister get?” Emily wasn’t paying attention to them—too focused on Silva.
“She got one with a witch on a broom.” Maddie giggled and covered her mouth. “It’s spooky.”
“Are you scared of witches?” Charlene asked, washing her hands after finishing with the fruit.
“Yes!” She made a face. “They’re scary.”
“I used to think so, too, but in Salem we have people that call themselves witches who aren’t scary at all. Kass, a friend of mine, runs a tea shop. She sometimes gives visitors—like you—ghost tours.” Charlene took a sip of her hickory roast coffee.
“Does she wear a black hat and have long, crooked fingernails?”
“Hmm, I’m sure she doesn’t. Kass is very tall and slim, pretty too, and likes to wear black clothes.”
“That’s weird,” Maddie declared.
Minnie laughed. “Salem has a lot of weird. Isn’t that right, Charlene?”
“Sure does.”
Her house phone rang and she took the cordless receiver into the living room for quiet. “Charlene’s Bed and Breakfast.”
“Charlene Morris?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Officer Horitz. I was wondering if you could come to the station today. We have some questions regarding David Baldwin’s accident that Detective Holden said you might be able to help with.”
“Of course—any particular time?”
“At your convenience, but today would help.”
“I’ll be there.” She hung up, wondering what it could be about. Sam had suggested she could help? How unusual! Charlene went back to the kitchen, and her mother joined them all soon after, dressed for the day in a tunic top and leggings.
“I smell coffee.” Her mom sniffed. “Morning, everyone.” She spotted the two large quiches fresh from the oven. “Oh, we’re having quiche for breakfast? I had my heart set on a nice omelet.”
“Then you can make it, Mom.” Charlene forced a smile. “We try to keep things simple around here.”
Minnie made a clucking sound. “I’d be happy to whip you up an omelet if you like, Brenda. Michael, would you prefer that as well?”
Her dad pulled his attention from Emily and the cat. “Don’t go to any trouble for me, Minnie.” He stood and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I haven’t had quiche in a while.”
Her mom smoothed a strand of short white hair behind her ear with a sniff.
Minnie handed him a quiche on a trivet. “Would you be a dear and take this to the dining room for me? We’re ready to start serving as soon as Andy and Teresa appear.”
“We’re right here,” Andy called from the bottom stair.
“Help yourself to coffee,” Charlene said, “then let’s gather at the dining table.”
Teresa collected her older daughter from beneath the kitchen table. Silva was draped over her chest and shoulder, carried like a baby. “The whiskers tickle me.” Emily’s nose scrunched. “I want a cat when we get home.”
“No cats,” her mother said. “We have Charlie, our Schnauzer, and that spoiled dog is enough to care for. Especially since I’m the one who has to walk him . . . and feed him and groom him.”
“Put down the cat,” Andy told his daughter. “Let’s go wash our hands. Hurry now.”
Teresa led Maddie from the kitchen, and Charlene picked up the platter of fruit, handing it to her mom. “I don’t want Minnie making any special-order breakfasts or everyone will want one. There’s plenty of food.”
Her mother made a huffing noise but marched off to the dining room, her shoulders back, chin high.
“That woman will be the death of me,” her dad murmured when he returned for the other quiche.
Minnie bit her lip as she followed Charlene’s dad back to the dining room with a basket of bread.
“And me,” Jack whispered, watching the antics from the doorway. Devilishly handsome as always, he wore a long-sleeved navy T-shirt that was different from the sweater he’d worn earlier. He turned to face her, and she sputtered. It was one of those touristy shirts that they sold everywhere in Salem. The slogan read: GHOSTS DO IT BETTER.
Where could he have gotten that? She shook her head, wanting him to find someplace to hide, but he just laughed and folded his arms, looking like a hunky ghost centerfold.
“You like my shirt?” he asked, blue eyes twinkling.
He loved to make her laugh when she had people around, but she was getting good at ignoring him. Being rude was better than appearing crazy.
She refilled her coffee mug and breezed by him, saying in a very low voice, “Go play with Silva. Do something, but not in the dining room. Mom gets cold with you around. Got it?”
“Did you say something?” Minnie asked as she returned to get a pitcher of juice.
“Oh, you know me.” Charlene lifted her mug. “Always talking to myself. Bad habit.”
She hurried to the dining room and her chair at the head of the table. “Help yourself. The quiche is already sliced. Teresa, want to start us off?”
Everyone dug right in. Minnie made sure the coffee cups were full and that the girls had enough juice. Another successful breakfast at “Charlene’s,” she thought with pride.
After the breakfast dishes were put away
, the Garcia family went upstairs to dress for their outings. They had a full schedule ahead of them, including a trip to the Witch House to see a reenactment of the witch trial and The House of the Seven Gables.
When they came downstairs, Charlene told them about the oldest candy store in the country, Ye Olde Pepper Companie. “It’s across the street from Seven Gables, and their chocolates and candy make excellent gifts.”
“We’ll be sure to visit after our tour,” Andy said.
Once they left, Charlene helped Minnie clean up and then put on a holiday movie for her mother to watch, as her father had already taken his favorite chair near the fireplace. He was engrossed in his Dan Brown novel, with Silva purring loudly from her perch on his lap. She hadn’t told them about going to the station in case it was something Sam wanted under wraps.
Jack cornered Charlene when she headed for her rooms to get her purse. “Don’t blame you for wanting out,” he said conspiratorially. “But don’t leave me alone with your mother too long, or I might do more than hide her false teeth.”
“Jack!”
“Just kidding! I wouldn’t harm a hair on her head.” Jack peered into the living room. “Besides, your dad is a real hoot. He manages your mother like a pro.”
“Years of practice.”
His beautiful blue eyes warmed as he gave her a long look. “You don’t resemble her a bit, thank heavens for that.”
She laughed. “If I did, you’d have scared me off by now. But we make pretty good roommates, don’t we?”
“Agreed. You’re a wonderful companion, intelligent, amusing, a pleasure to be around.”
“And you are a darling. A darling ghost,” she said, putting on her boots. “So, before I go shopping, I’m stopping at the station to help with the investigation.”
“Isn’t that your darling Sam’s job?” Even Jack’s smirk was handsome.
“Of course it is, but he told the officers that I could help with something. How intriguing is that?” She was dying to know what.
“Very. I can’t wait to find out.” The outline of his navy-blue tee began to dim, as did his jeans and hair, and he slowly faded away with a sad expression. Jack had limitations, and exerting energy as he had been lately zapped his strength. That’s what happened when you were a ghost.
She left her suite and walked down the hall to the coat tree and her black down coat, when a loud knock sounded on the door. Opening it by the second rap, Charlene was surprised to see Jessica standing there.
“Hey, Jessica. How are you holding up? Want to come in?”
Jessica shook her head and stayed on the porch, bundled up in a gray coat. “I’m on my way to Dr. Matt’s for my shift.” She pulled a tissue from the jacket pocket that she wore over blue scrubs, and dabbed her eyes.
“What, hon?”
“I . . . I . . . went to the bank this morning. You know . . . to cash my check.”
“Yes?” Charlene touched her arm. “You’re really shaken up. How about a cup of tea?”
“No, I have to get to work. I just wanted you to know.”
“Know what?”
“They wouldn’t cash the check. Not just mine.” Jessica’s big brown eyes welled. “Nobody’s.”
“Why in the world not?” The answer suddenly dawned on her as she remembered how resentful Tori had been about David giving out money. “Are you telling me . . .”
“Yes, Tori closed the account the moment the bank opened. Nobody had a chance to deposit or cash their checks.”
“Can she do that?” Charlene frowned. What about the children’s charity?
“Apparently, it’s totally legit, because she’s his wife.” Jessica’s red-rimmed eyes spilled over. “I called Vincent. He’s furious and threatened to sue the estate. David died still owning his share of the restaurant, which will now go to Tori. They were haggling over the price—Vincent figured it should be gifted to him, I heard.”
Charlene remembered how angry Vincent had appeared when he’d opened his envelope.
Jessica released a big sigh. “Everything’s a mess. Why did David have to die? This leaves folks in a bad way and right at Christmastime too. Now the only one who’ll benefit is Tori, and maybe her boyfriend, Zane.” Her mouth trembled. “I put in a call to Alice—she sounded ready to blow a fuse.”
“It’s terrible that Tori won’t honor his wishes,” Charlene murmured. She hadn’t been impressed by Tori, but to run off with the money and leave everyone empty-handed was unconscionable!
Jessica’s voice hitched. “She lives by the bank, so I drove by. That money-grabbing witch is leaving town. There’s a moving pod in front of her house. David had told me in confidence that he’d called a lawyer, who had recommended that he and Tori go underground for a while. It’s why he wanted to give the money he owed everyone the night of the auction. Now she can do anything she likes. Spend it on gold nipple studs for Zane if she wants.” She wiped her eyes with the soaked tissue. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’m so sorry too. It isn’t right.”
Jessica pulled herself together. “I have to get to Dr. Matt’s, but I’ll be in touch—there’s a remembrance at Unity Church tomorrow afternoon. See you there?”
“I’ll check my schedule.”
“I’ve got to go. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Charlene, but I wanted you to know. I feel so bad for the kids at Felicity House. What can we do?”
The children! They had the money from the actual auction prizes that Tori couldn’t snatch, but was it enough? “I’ll do my best to make it tomorrow—and, Jessica, if you think of anybody that might have had a grudge against David, would you let me know?”
“Sure. That list just keeps growing, doesn’t it? You never really know somebody. Argh—I’m going to be late!”
Jessica left, and Charlene returned to the living room to tell her parents what had just happened.
“What really cooks my goose is the fact that the children might not get what they need for Christmas.” Charlene paced before the fireplace in angry strides. “It’s enough to break my heart. I’m going to pay Felicity House a visit this morning”—after the police station—“and see what I can do. Maybe get each kid something?” She’d buy gifts herself if necessary.
“You’ve got a kind heart,” her father said.
“You’re not made of money,” her mom countered. “Do you have a big enough wallet to be so generous?”
“I’ll do what I can. If I asked around and everyone pitched in a little something . . . Kevin would, and Sharon. If enough businesses open their tills, we could buy presents. It wouldn’t take much. Twenty, thirty dollars. It’s peanuts, really.”
Her mom looked doubtful.
Charlene hated that her mother might be right, but she would think of something. Christmas was only days away. “Would you like me to pick you up anything while I’m out?”
“No, dear, you run along and enjoy your shopping,” her mother surprised her by saying. “You work hard here, I can see. I didn’t understand why you gave up your career in marketing, but you’re good at this business too. I just never thought about you waiting on people, but what do I know?”
“Not a blasted thing,” her dad opined.
Charlene wasn’t sure if she’d just been paid a compliment or highly insulted by her mother. Either way, she didn’t really care. She loved her bed-and-breakfast, her new friends and her life here, and her mother’s opinion didn’t matter.
“I just wish you’d let us help,” said her mother.
“If you really want to, then if I’m not back by four, would you mind peeling the potatoes for tonight’s dinner? Minnie is making us a pot roast.”
“Don’t mind a bit—I’ve been peeling potatoes most of my life.”
Charlene put on her coat. “Thanks. I have my cell phone if you need to get hold of me. Otherwise, I should be back by five at the latest. There’s leftover chili for lunch.”
“I couldn’t eat another thing,” her father said. “Maybe
one of those cookies, or a brownie or two.”
“You’ll get fat,” her mother said. “Bald and fat.”
“Better than skinny and mean,” he answered back.
On that note, Charlene rushed out the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charlene left the bed-and-breakfast determined to help the kids at Felicity House—Tori might be greedy and self-serving, but to deny this center for children the money promised was unforgivable.
Officer Horitz’s request hadn’t sounded urgent, so Charlene decided to go to Felicity House first. She drove by a large double lot and parked in front of a wood-framed, single-story farmhouse that might have been built a century or more ago, painted brown with ivory trim, the door a cherry red.
There was a small brick schoolhouse to the left, complete with playground, and to the right and back of the lot, a two-story clapboard house, big enough for at least a dozen bedrooms. The property was fenced in, with high barbed wire, to keep people out or the kids safely in, she wasn’t sure.
A little sign over the red door on the farmhouse read: OFFICE.
Charlene climbed the steps to a narrow porch, not sure what to expect. With a knock, she went inside—pleasantly surprised by the enormous fresh Christmas tree, decorated with handmade ornaments and prettily wrapped presents underneath.
Comfortable but worn sofas and chairs had been grouped together around a desk with two computers. A large sixty-inch TV took up one corner, and in the other were bookshelves that held hundreds of books. She smiled at the row of Harry Potter paperbacks, having read them all herself.
Eight young children were seated on the floor around a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old girl who was reading to them. They looked up with shy glances at Charlene. She waved. “Good morning. I’d like to see Alice Winters?”
A little girl with an adorable smile waved back, her teeth like white pearls in her brown face. “Mrs. Winters is in her office,” she said, pointing down the hallway. “I’m Tamil. I’m six and a half.”
“Nice to meet you, Tamil. That’s a pretty name.”