by Gayle Leeson
“I’ll have to check them out later,” I said. “It was nice meeting you.”
Janice grabbed a stack of her business cards and pressed them into my hand. “Here. For your clients. I’ll be glad to return the favor.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Next, Mrs. Meacham took me to meet Mark, a web site designer. Everything about Mark screamed thin. The young man didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on his body. He had thinning black hair. He wore a thin crocheted tie. He held out a thin hand for me to shake. His handshake was surprisingly firm.
“Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amanda.” He handed me a card from the holder on his desk. “Should you need any web design help or marketing expertise, please call on me. I can work on a flat fee or monthly fee basis, depending on your needs.”
“Thank you, but—”
“Are you aware that fifty percent of fledgling businesses fail within the first year?” he asked.
I started to correct his stats, but I didn’t want to alienate someone I was going to be working near. I thanked him again and told him I appreciated his offer. It dawned on me as Mrs. Meacham and I were moving on to the next tenant that she’d said the web designer was leaving at the end of the month...which was only a week away. I wondered where he was taking his business.
The other upstairs shop was a bookstore called Antiquated Editions. The owner was a burly, bearded man who’d have looked more at home in a motorcycle shop than selling rare books, but, hey, you can’t judge a book by its cover, right?
I made a mental note to tell Grandpa Dave my little joke. As you’ve probably guessed, I didn’t have a lot of friends. Not that I wasn’t a friendly person. I had a lot of acquaintances. It was just hard for me to get close to people. I wasn’t the type to tell my deepest, darkest secrets to someone I hadn’t known...well, all my life.
The brawny book man’s name was Ford. I’d have been truly delighted had it been Harley, but had you been expecting me to say his name was Fitzgerald or Melville, please see the aforementioned joke about books and covers. He was friendly and invited me to come around and look at his collection anytime. I promised I’d do so after I got settled in.
Then it was downstairs to meet the rest of the shop owners. The first shop on the left when you came in the door—the shop directly across the hall from mine—was Delightful Home. The proprietress was Connie, who preferred a hug over a handshake.
“Aren’t you lovely?” Connie asked.
I did not say I doubt it, which was the first thought that popped into my brain, but I did thank her for the compliment. Connie was herself the embodiment of lovely. She had long, honey blonde hair that she wore in a single braid. Large silver hoops adorned her ears, and she had skinny silver bracelets stacked up each arm. She wore an embroidered red tunic that fell to her thighs, black leggings, and Birkenstocks. But the thing that made her truly lovely wasn’t so much her looks but the way she appeared to boldly embrace life. I mean, the instant we met, she embraced me. Her shop smelled of cinnamon and something else...sage, maybe.
“Melba, that blue is definitely your color,” Connie said. “By the way, did that sinus blend help you?”
“It did!” Mrs. Meacham turned to me. “Connie has the most wonderful products, not the least of which are her essential oils.”
I could see that Connie had an assortment of candles, soaps, lotions, oils, and tea blends. I was curious to see what all she did have, but that would have to wait.
“I’m here to help you in any way I possibly can,” said Connie, with a warm smile. “Anything you need, just let me know. We’re neighbors now.”
Mrs. Meacham took me to meet the last of my “neighbors,” Mr. and Mrs. Peterman.
“Call us Ella and Frank,” Ella insisted. She was petite with salt-and-pepper hair styled in a pixie cut.
Frank was average height, had a slight paunch, a bulbous nose, and bushy brown hair. He didn’t say much.
Ella and Frank had a paper shop. They designed their own greeting cards and stationery, and they sold specialty and novelty items that would appeal to their clientele. For instance, they had socks with book patterns, quotes from famous books, and likenesses of authors.
After I’d met everyone, Mrs. Meacham handed me the keys to my shop and went upstairs. Although my shop wouldn’t open until the first of September, she’d graciously given me this last week of August to get everything set up.
I unlocked my door and went inside. I was surprised to see Max standing by the window. I started to ask her how she’d got in, but then I saw that there was another door that led to the kitchen. I imagined my space had once been the family dining room. Anyway, it was apparent that the door between my space and the kitchen hallway had been left unlocked. I’d have to be careful to check that in the future.
But, for now, I didn’t mind at all that Max was there. Or that it appeared she was wearing the same outfit she’d been wearing yesterday. Must have been some party!
“So, you leased the shop?” Max asked.
“I did!”
“Congratulations! I wish we could have champagne to celebrate.”
I laughed. “Me too, but I’m driving.”
Max joined in my laughter. “I’m so glad you’re going to be here. I think we’ll be great friends.”
“I hope so.” And I truly did. I immediately envisioned Max as my best friend—the two of us going to lunch together, talking about guys and clothes, shopping together. I reined myself in before I got too carried away.
I surveyed the room. The inside wall to my right had a fireplace. I recalled that all the rooms upstairs had them too. But this one had built-in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on either side of the fireplace.
“Does this fireplace still work?” I asked Max.
“I imagine it would, but it isn’t used anymore. The owners put central heat and air in eons ago.”
“Just checking. I mean, I wasn’t going to light fire to anything. I merely wanted to be sure it was safe to put flammables on these shelves.” I could feel my face getting hot. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I’m just so excited—”
“And I’m excited for you. You have nothing to apologize for. How were you supposed to know whether or not the former tenant ever lit the fireplace?”
“You’re really nice.”
“And you’re too hard on yourself. Must you be brilliant and well-spoken all the time?”
“Well...I’m certainly not, but I’d like to be.”
“Tell me what you have in store for this place,” she said.
I indicated the window. “I’d like to have a table flanked by chairs on either side here.” I bit my lip. “Where’s the best place around here to buy some reasonably priced furniture that would go with the overall atmosphere of the building?”
“I have no idea. You should ask Connie.”
“Connie?” I was actually checking to make sure I’d heard Max correctly, but it so happened that I’d left the door open and Connie was walking by as I spoke.
“Yes?”
“Max was telling me that you might know of a good furniture place nearby,” I said.
“Max?” Connie looked about the room. “Who’s Max?”
I whirled around, thinking Max had somehow slipped out of the room. But, nope, there she stood...shaking her head...and putting a finger to her lips.
“Um...she was....she was just here. She was here yesterday too. I assumed she was a Shops on Main regular.”
“I don’t know her, but I’d love to meet her sometime. As for the furniture, I’d try the antique stores downtown for starters. You might fall in love with just the right piece or two there.” She grinned. “I’d better get back to minding the store. Good luck with the furniture shopping!”
Connie pulled the door closed behind her as she left, and I was glad. I turned to Max.
“Gee, that was awkward,” she said. “I was sure you knew.”
“Knew?”
“That I
’m a ghost.”
{ }
Chapter Two
I
realized I was gaping and closed my mouth. My legs felt weak, and I looked around for somewhere to sit.
“Windowsill,” Max said, pointing behind me. “Your scrawny butt will fit just fine.”
I backed up until I felt the windowsill against my thighs, and then I sank into a sitting position.
Max came and sat beside me. “I honestly thought you knew. I mean, how could you not?”
“How could I not? You’re as clear to me as Connie or anyone else in this place.”
“Really?” She clapped her hands together. “How delightful! I mean, I knew yesterday when we met that you were special. I thought you realized you had a...well, a gift...or a sensitivity...or whatever you want to call it.”
“No...I...no.” I shook my head slightly. “This isn’t an elaborate joke you guys are playing on me, is it?”
“Afraid not. Connie doesn’t know I exist. I have tried to get her attention a few times. Despite all her talk about chakras and crystals and energy, she has no clue. Neither does anyone else here. Until you.”
“Wow.”
“I’m truly happy you’re here. I haven’t had a friend in almost a decade,” she said. “You can’t imagine how boring it is not having anyone to talk with. And it’s so frustrating trying to read books, magazines, or newspapers over someone’s shoulder when that person has no idea you’re there. I seldom get to finish anything.” She scoffed. “And don’t even get me started on those books upstairs.”
“How—if you don’t mind my asking—did you...?”
“How’d I die? Fell right down those stairs out there and broke my stupid neck. It was May of 1930, and I was going to a dance. I was wearing this beautiful new gown—” She indicated the dress she was wearing. “—and nobody even got to see me in it! The last time anyone saw me in the flesh, I was wearing that godawful monstrosity Mother buried me in. It was truly the kind of dress you’d take one look at and say, ‘I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in that.’” She shrugged. “Thanks a million, Ma!”
“I’m truly sorry.”
“Me too. I’d have much rather had a closed casket with a photo of me looking beautiful sitting on the lid or on a table beside the coffin. I did not appreciate people peering down at me.” She shook her head. “The dress was this muddy-water brown with no frills whatsoever. I’ve had over eighty years to try to figure it out. At first, I thought that Mother bought the dress to save money. But that makes no sense. I had plenty of gorgeous gowns in my closet. She didn’t have to buy anything new. And everything I had looked better than—”
“I meant I’m sorry that you’re dead,” I said.
“Oh.” She waved away my concern with a flick of her wrist. “That’s all right. I’m used to it. We can still be friends, can’t we?”
“Of course.”
“I’m glad. Some folks are prejudiced against people who are...well...different.”
I smiled. “I know. I’m...I’m happy we’re friends.”
“So am I. We’re going to have such fun together. Do you have anything we could read?”
“I’ve got lots of things we can read.”
She gave a little round of applause. “Swell! I’d hug you if I could.”
I giggled, and I wasn’t quite sure if I was delighted, hysterical, or a little of both. "For now, I need to get to the antique store to see what I can find.”
“Yeah. I’d love to go with you, but I’m kind of confined to this building.”
“Kind of?” I asked.
“I can go out onto the porches, but that’s about it. I’m looking forward to seeing what you find in the way of furniture.” She grinned. “You’re going to make this place fantastic. I just know it.”
“Thanks.” I stood on legs that were still a little unsteady. “I’ll be back either later today or tomorrow.”
I DIDN’T GO ON DOWNTOWN to the antique shops. Instead, I drove as slowly as I could to Grandpa Dave’s house. He was the only person I could think of who could possibly listen to my story without thinking I was I completely insane. Still, I went at a snail’s pace so I could think of what and how to tell him. I hadn’t come up with a good story by the time I got to his house.
I knocked on the front door and then sat on the porch. It was a hot, sunny day, but the shaded porch provided some relief from the heat, and the swing gave me something to do.
Grandpa Dave came outside and sat on his usual white rocker. “Would you like some water or sweet tea?”
“Maybe in a few minutes.”
“You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look?” I asked.
“The look you’d always get when you were a little girl and something had happened that you weren’t quite sure about. You’d always talk with me about it before deciding whether or not to tell your mom and dad.”
I smiled slightly. “And whatever it was often stayed between you and me.”
“That’s right.”
Grandpa knew me well enough to sit quietly until I was ready to confide in him. Finally, I just blurted it out.
“Max is a ghost.”
“All right.”
“All right? You don’t even sound surprised.”
“Well, it is historic Abingdon,” he said. “Everybody with an old building supposedly has a ghost or two.”
“But, Grandpa, I saw her plain as day...and we talked the same way you and I are talking right now! And then, I mentioned her to Connie, but Connie couldn’t see her.”
“Now you’re getting ahead of me. Who’s Connie?”
I filled Grandpa in on how I’d gone this morning and spoken with Mrs. Meacham and secured the lease.
“Then she introduced me to everyone—one of whom was Connie who sells home stuff—and I went to my space to see how I wanted to decorate it. Max was there, and I asked her where I might find some furniture that would fit with the overall theme of the building, and Max said I should ask Connie.”
“So, you called Connie over?”
“Not really. She was walking by and heard her name.”
“Ah, Connie could hear Max?” Grandpa asked.
“No. I’d repeated Connie’s name—that’s what she heard. That’s when I told her Max had recommended I check with her about where to find furniture. But Connie couldn’t see her and said she didn’t know anyone named Max. After Connie left, Max apologized and said she thought I knew she was a ghost.”
“Do you still plan on leasing the shop?”
“Of course,” I said. “Unless you think I shouldn’t. I believe Max has had a hard life...or after...life, I guess. I believe it would be good for her to have me there.”
“But is it good for you?”
“I don’t think Max would harm me. She wasn’t threatening in any way.” I gave him a sharp look. “Do you feel she’s only being nice to me until she gains my trust or something?”
“No.” He blew out a breath. “Is this the first encounter you can remember having with...with the supernatural?”
“Yes.”
For a few moments, the only sounds were those of the swing’s chains clanging together, Grandpa Dave’s rocker squeaking on the boards of the porch, and a bumble bee buzzing as it visited his red begonias.
At last, he broke the silence. “When you were a little girl, you sometimes saw people that no one else could see. Your parents thought you were making things up and scolded you until you either stopped seeing...things....people...or you simply quit talking about it.”
“They thought I was nuts,” I said.
“No. Well, maybe. But they didn’t understand you like I did.”
“You mean, you see ghosts?”
“No, but my grandmother had the gift of...the sight—that’s what she called it. She was kind of a spooky old bird, but she loved me and I loved her, and I didn’t mind her eccentricities. I always believed you might’ve inherited her ability.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?” I asked.
“I didn’t see the need before. But now you’ve befriended a ghost, and you need to know you aren’t crazy.”
“Will you come back to the shop with me? I want to know if you can see her.”
He grinned. “You need more reassurance you aren’t insane, huh? Well, don’t pin your hopes on this old man. I’ve never seen a ghost in my life.”
“It’s more than that.” And it was...kinda. “I want you to help me pick out furniture.”
“And you don’t think I have anything better to do than that?”
“I know you do,” I said. “But I’m your granddaughter.”
WE TOOK GRANDPA DAVE’S blue pickup truck back to Shops on Main. When we walked inside, Connie’s door was ajar. She was with a customer, but she waved to us. We waved back before unlocking the door and stepping into my shop.
Max was sitting on the windowsill where I’d left her. “Good to see you’re back. I was afraid I might’ve scared you off.”
I glanced over at Grandpa because I was about to tell him that Max was here and that she’d just spoken to me, but I could tell by his wide eyes and slack jaw that he could see and hear her too.
Max winked at him. “Who’s the silver fox? Got that expression from the old jewelry gal upstairs. It suits, though. You’re a looker, mister.”
Grandpa blinked a few times and extended his hand. “I’m Dave Tucker. You must be Max.”
Max gave a tinkling laugh. “Darling, I wish I could shake your hand. I wanted to hug Amanda earlier, but I couldn’t do that either.”
“Grandpa, how can you see her?” I asked.
“The same way you can, I suppose.”
“But you said you’d never seen a—” I glanced at the door to make sure we weren’t being overheard. “—a ghost in your life.”
“Max is my first.”
Max placed a hand over her heart. “You make me blush, Dave. I haven’t been anyone’s first in ages.” She laughed again, and he laughed with her.
I merely looked back and forth between them bewildered.
“Why are you surprised that I can see and talk with her?” Grandpa asked me. “You can.”