“Zara, my wife, is painfully shy. And she has a few—umm—issues she’s trying to work through. I don’t want to say she sufferers from mysophobia exactly…”
“She has a fear of germs?” Danielle asked.
“Mostly, she doesn’t like shaking hands. And touching doorknobs is a problem for her.”
Walt resisted the temptation to say that might present a problem getting in and out of rooms.
“I’ll confess, she wasn’t thrilled about staying at a B and B. I talked her into it after the house we rented fell through. You see, if we rented a house, she would just go through and sanitize all the doorknobs, and then she would feel comfortable opening them.”
“If your wife feels more comfortable wiping down my doorknobs, I won’t be offended. And I understand not wanting to shake hands. I know a number of people who feel the same way,” Danielle said.
“Thank you, that’s kind of you. She usually keeps some wipes in her pocket. But she only uses them when people aren’t around, because she’s self-conscious. That’s normally not a problem, because when we’re together, I just open the door for her and no one thinks anything about it.”
“There was a time most gentlemen did that anyway,” Walt noted.
Noah looked at Walt and smiled. “True.”
“Is there anything else?” Danielle asked.
“Like I said she is shy—self-conscious. So if she doesn’t talk to people, please don’t take it personally.”
After Danielle showed Noah to his room upstairs, where he left his suitcase, the two returned to the first floor. Danielle stayed in the living room with Walt while Noah stepped outside to retrieve his wife.
“I knew a guy once who refused to shake hands,” Walt mused. He sat with Danielle on the sofa.
“Was it the germ thing?”
Walt shrugged. “He never said; I never asked. But I do remember Hal Tucker went to shake the guy’s hand when they first met, and Hal took exception to the guy’s refusal. Almost broke out into a fistfight.”
“I wouldn’t want to shake Hal Tucker’s hand either, and it has nothing to do with germs,” Danielle grumbled.
Walt chuckled in response.
Danielle glanced to the doorway leading to the hall, listening for Noah to return with his wife. “I will admit, I expected him to be much younger.”
“Why’s that? Did his wife sound young on the phone?”
“In a way, but that’s not why. They’re newlyweds, so I just expected them to be younger.”
“It might be their second marriage—like us.”
“He’s older than us—well, at least he’s older than me.” Danielle grinned mischievously.
“I’d remind you that you’re technically older, if we go by my age at death—yet considering Clint was older—I don’t know how old I am anymore.”
Danielle laughed. “Aw, come on, Walt, we know exactly how old you are. You were born in 1899, so on your next birthday you will be, what, one hundred eighteen? I think you look darn good for your age, old man.”
“In my day, young lady, an impertinent wife would find herself over my lap while getting a sound beating.”
Danielle smiled at Walt. “I know you better than that. Even back then you wouldn’t have struck a woman.”
“True,” Walt said with a sigh.
They heard the front door opening. Danielle stood up.
“You coming?” Danielle asked.
“In a minute,” Walt said.
Danielle turned from Walt, but before she took a step toward the door, he reached up and gave her backside a firm swat with the palm of his hand.
Danielle jumped in response and gave a little squeal. She turned quickly to face Walt while her right hand went back to touch the seat of her pants. “You brat!”
“I couldn’t resist,” he said as he stood up from the sofa.
“I’ll get even with you later,” Danielle whispered to Walt as they made their way to the door.
“I’m counting on it,” he teased, reaching out and giving her backside another swat, this one much gentler.
When Danielle met Zara a few minutes later, she wondered briefly if the woman had been a model. Dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and dark slacks, Zara was tall and thin, with a pretty face and shortly cropped hair, with big blue eyes. Danielle had always been envious of taller women, because they were able to carry additional weight. Zara lacked Danielle’s curves, although Danielle never considered herself especially curvy, not when standing beside Lily. She guessed Zara was in her forties and suspected Walt might be correct; this was probably a second marriage for one or both of them.
Danielle noticed Zara wasn’t carrying a purse, and thought, A girl after my own heart. There were many times Danielle had refused to carry a purse, often using one of her pockets to hold her phone and ID, yet in the last year or so she had begun carrying a purse more frequently.
“Would you like a quick tour around the house?” Danielle offered after introductions were made. “So you’ll know your way around.”
“That would be lovely,” Zara told her.
Danielle started with the parlor and then went to the living room, pausing a moment at the downstairs bedroom.
“I normally save this room for guests who have difficulty with the stairs,” Danielle explained. “Tomorrow we have two gentlemen arriving, and one of them will be staying in this room.”
She gave them a quick tour of the kitchen and then took them into the library, Walt trailing behind them. Displayed where the original portraits had once stood were Clint’s reproductions. Danielle explained the paintings’ history.
Zara studied the portrait of Walt and then looked over to him. “She’s right, you do look just like your cousin.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
Zara turned her attention back to the painting and cocked her head slightly. Still looking at it, she said, “I can almost imagine you stepping out of that painting. That you are Walt Marlow. This Walt Marlow.”
Fifteen
After coming into the kitchen, Danielle slipped on a Christmas apron over her jeans and blouse, its front adorned with an appliqué red-nosed reindeer. The apron had belonged to her cousin Cheryl. They had all had one—her parents, her aunt and uncle, and Cheryl’s younger brother. But now they were all gone—there was no one left from her family, but she now had Walt. Walt was her family, as were her friends.
A Santa appliqué decorated her apron, but it needed mending, which was why she had decided to wear her cousin’s apron today. Perhaps tomorrow she would wear her mother’s, and the next day, her aunt’s. The Christmas aprons had been a family tradition, and they had all been wearing them the last time she had seen them—in her Christmas dream hop two years ago, courtesy of Walt. Danielle smiled at the memory, reminding her of another reason she had fallen in love with a ghost.
“Do I smell cookies?” Walt asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Danielle, who had just pulled a cookie sheet from the oven, paused a moment and looked back at Walt. “I swear, you have a sixth sense when it comes to cookies.”
“It hardly takes a sixth sense. I can smell them. And I’m fairly certain my sense of smell is included in the standard five.” Walt tried to snatch a chocolate chip cookie from the hot sheet, but Danielle swatted him away.
“Stop that, you’re going to burn yourself, and they need to firm up anyway.” Danielle set the cookie sheet on the hot plate while Walt stood by, waiting anxiously for a taste. “And I meant you have a sixth sense when it comes to knowing when they’re coming out of the oven. You always seem to know.”
“It’s a gift.” Walt took a seat at the kitchen table, his eyes still on the warm cookies.
“What do you think of our new guests?” Danielle gingerly removed the cookies from the pan and set them on a plate.
“His wife didn’t seem that shy to me,” Walt said.
“Maybe she’s just shy in large groups,” Danielle suggested.
“Perhaps. But I do believe she has that germ phobia. I noticed she didn’t use the handrail going up and down the stairs.”
Danielle cringed. “That doesn’t thrill me. We’ve already had one disastrous fall down our stairs.”
“In all fairness, she didn’t trip or just fall, she was pushed,” Walt reminded her.
“Still. It’s not safe walking up and down stairs without holding onto the rail.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that right now. She made it back down the stairs safely, and they just left the house. Noah told me they were going to take a walk along the beach.”
“I hope they brought their jackets.” Danielle shivered at the thought.
“Yes, they were both wearing jackets,” Walt assured her. “Now, what about that cookie?”
Danielle grabbed a napkin and used it to plate one warm cookie. She handed it to Walt and then returned to the counter to place more cookie dough on a fresh cookie sheet.
“Have I told you I love you lately?” While his words of affection were directed at her, his gaze was focused on what Danielle had just given him.
“Are you talking to me or the cookie?”
“A little of both.” He laughed.
“You only love me for my cooking,” Danielle teased, her back to him.
“They do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” He bit the cookie in half and then glanced over to Danielle, who was focused on her task at hand. He turned his attention to the cookies she had set on the plate.
Finishing the freshly baked treat, he licked the warm chocolate off his fingers and glanced at Danielle and then to the plate again. The next moment, one of the cookies lifted up and off the plate and began floating across the room to him. Just as it reached his hand, Danielle, her back still to him, said, “I saw that.”
Overhead, the sky was gray yet free of drizzle and rain. Noah wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his jacket closer to his body, attempting to ward off the chill. Zara, who walked beside him up the road as they headed north, seemed more interested in what was on the other side of the street.
“I had no idea he was the author,” Noah told Zara. He tucked his hands in his coat pockets and shivered.
“That’s the book you just finished reading?” she asked.
“Yes. It hasn’t been out long, but it’s been number one on the bestseller list for a couple of weeks now, which is pretty amazing considering this is his first book. Of course, I imagine part of it goes back to it’s all about who you know.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“In one of the reviews I read about the book, it mentioned how Marlow’s neighbor is Jon Altar. According to the article, Altar read the book and passed it on to his agent. The rest is history.”
“I’ve always loved Jon Altar’s work.” Zara stopped walking a moment and then looked down the street toward Marlow House. “That must mean Altar lives around here. That’s strange, when I checked the houses on this street, I didn’t come across his name.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a pen name.”
Zara let out a sigh and turned her attention back to where they were headed. “We could use someone like Jon Altar.”
“Knowing what I know now, Marlow’s book makes sense.”
“I never realized how bizarre this world was,” Zara noted.
“That’s for sure.”
Zara stopped abruptly and looked across the street. “There it is.”
Noah looked at the house that had Zara’s attention. “That’s where Chris lives?”
She nodded. “Yes. And the woman who works for him, she lives a couple of houses down from Marlow House, going the other way.”
“I wonder if he’s home,” he asked.
“There’s no car in the driveway, but I would expect him to park in the garage.”
“You certain he didn’t get a good look at you?”
“Like I said, I only saw him from a distance. I didn’t want him to get a good look at me. I figured it might complicate things if he recognized me,” she explained.
“But the woman who works for him, she saw you?”
“Yeah. Which is why I need to avoid her if possible.”
“Maybe you should have dyed your hair or worn a wig?” he suggested.
“Funny, Noah.” She didn’t sound amused.
“Sorry. But if you can’t avoid her, you’ll just have to make her think she must have seen your double. They say everyone has one.”
A moment later a car came driving down the street and turned into Chris’s driveway.
“There he is,” Zara whispered.
“Let’s cross the street, like we’re going to the beach,” Noah suggested.
By the time they reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street, Chris was already out of his car, getting something out of the trunk.
“Hello. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Noah cheerfully greeted Chris, Zara by his side.
Chris, who had just closed his trunk, paused a moment and looked up at the dismal gray sky. “Where are you from, the North Pole?”
“I guess I just love this type of weather,” Noah lied, feeling foolish for his opening statement.
Chris turned to the pair and smiled. “Yeah, a lot of people don’t have a problem with the gloom, but I wouldn’t mind a bit more sunshine this time of year. So, are you new in the neighborhood or just visiting?”
“Just visiting for the holidays. We’re staying at Marlow House through Christmas,” Noah explained.
“Ahh, so you’re the other guests. Danielle told me you were coming in today.”
“You’re friends with Danielle Boatman?” Zara asked.
“Yes.” Holding the bag he had removed from his trunk, Chris walked down his driveway toward the pair, who stood on the sidewalk. “Marlow House is where I stayed when I first arrived in Frederickport. In fact, it was also Christmastime, two years ago. Marlow House is always quite festive this time of year, and if you like Christmas cookies, you came to the right place,” Chris said with a chuckle.
“Good to know. I haven’t tried any of her cookies yet. I’m Noah Bishop, by the way, and this is my wife, Zara.”
“Chris Johnson,” Chris said and then shook Noah’s offered hand. After the handshake ended, Chris turned to Zara, but her arms were firmly folded across her waist as she nodded to him and smiled. It was obvious to Chris she wasn’t interested in shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Chris. Maybe we’ll be seeing you around while we’re here,” Noah said.
“You will. I’ll be having Christmas dinner with you all at Marlow House, but I imagine you’ll see me again before then. My uncles are the other guests staying there this week. They’re arriving tomorrow.”
“Danielle mentioned that,” Zara said.
The sound of barking came from Chris’s house. All three turned toward it. In the window, her head shoved between an opening in the curtains, was a pit bull barking furiously.
Chris looked backed to Noah and Zara and said, “I’d better get going before Hunny starts eating the furniture. Nice meeting you both. Enjoy your time in Frederickport.”
“Thank you,” Noah said.
“See you later,” Chris called out as he turned toward his house and started up the driveway.
“Do you have any doubts now?” Zara asked after Chris went into his house, and they started down the street.
Noah shook his head. “No, it’s him.”
Walt was still sitting at the kitchen table when Chris knocked on the back door twenty minutes later. Chris didn’t wait for a response, but just walked in. He hadn’t seen Danielle in the kitchen when he had first peeked in the window, but he found her standing at the kitchen sink, washing a mixing bowl, when he walked in.
“Rumor has it you’re baking cookies,” Chris said.
“You’d better hurry before Walt eats them all,” Danielle teased as she turned to face him.
“E
ven I couldn’t eat all the cookies you bake,” Walt said as he gave Chris a nod and pointed to the plate of cookies, silently suggesting to help himself. “Although, I am giving it my best shot.”
Chris grabbed a couple of cookies from the plate and then headed for the table to sit with Walt. En route there Danielle stopped what she was doing and handed him a paper napkin.
“I met your guests,” Chris said after taking his first bite of cookie.
“The Bishops,” Danielle said. “They arrived this afternoon. I suspect you met them while they were taking their walk?”
“Yes, they were down by my house. He seemed pretty friendly, but she didn’t say much.”
“According to him, his wife’s extremely shy, but she didn’t seem particularly shy when we met her,” Walt said.
“When do you think my uncles are going to arrive?” Chris asked.
Danielle dried her hands on a dishtowel and then tossed it on the counter as she headed to the table. “They’re flying into Portland. I don’t expect them until later tomorrow afternoon.” Danielle sat down at the table.
“There was something familiar about him,” Chris said after finishing his first cookie.
“You mean Mr. Bishop?” Danielle asked.
Chris nodded and broke his cookie in half. “It was something about his laugh. Driving me nuts, I’m trying to place it.”
Sixteen
Early Tuesday morning Danielle turned off the baby monitor and put it in her top dresser drawer. She wondered what people would think if they found it in her room. She smiled at the thought. She and Walt hadn’t been married long when they realized the attic bedroom suited them best. The attic suite was larger than her room, and its modern bathroom and larger shower was much nicer than hers on the second floor.
However, there was one problem. If they had guests and one needed her in the middle of the night, there would be no one in her room to hear the knocks. It didn’t take her long to find a solution—a baby monitor. Each night she would set it on the table by her locked bedroom door and turn it on. Upstairs by their bed was the receiver, and if anyone knocked or called her name outside her door on the second floor, she would hear them.
The Ghost of Christmas Secrets Page 10