by Mary Carter
Just when Bailey thought she had become quite accustomed to the oddities of her guests, she was surprised yet again. She came into the kitchen one morning to find the bird-watcher sitting naked at the dining room table. She let out a little screech.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, standing.
“Don’t get up!” Bailey yelled. She whirled around so that her back was to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Usually you’re all asleep at this hour.”
“You do this every morning?”
“Yes ma’am.” He was way older than her, with a huge stomach and gray hairs and sagging skin, and he was calling her ma’am.
“Mr.—” She suddenly couldn’t remember his name. She’d been calling him bird-watcher so long she’d forgotten everything else.
“You can call me Tom.”
“Why are you naked?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s for my wife.”
“Call me Bailey.”
“I’ll just go to my room.”
“Just get some clothes on and I can make you breakfast.”
“I know you don’t serve breakfast this early and I’ve got a long day of bird-watching ahead, so I’d best get a move on.”
“I’m up now. Definitely won’t be getting back to sleep now.” Not after the image of your naked aging body burned on my brain.
“Appreciate it.” He scooted out of the kitchen, and she forgot to keep her eyes averted, so she caught an unfortunate sight of white buttock as he exited. Was this the dream Brad had in mind? He was upstairs snoring peacefully with the damn dog. Bailey started with the pot of coffee. The French couple, baby and all, were late sleepers. When Tom came back down, he was in his khaki bird-watching outfit: pants, vest, hat, binoculars, boots.
“Coffee?”
“Black, please.” Bailey served him a cup, then tried to find out if he wanted eggs or pancakes, but he insisted on nothing more than a bowl of cereal. She served him, then began making the batter for the pancakes anyway. She would eat them herself.
“So,” she said when he was nearly done, “you just come in here every morning and sit naked at my kitchen table?” Oh, God. The seats. Did he always sit in the same chair? She was going to have to boil the cushions. Was there a way of telling him it was unsanitary without hurting his feelings? “I’m afraid we can’t allow—”
Tom held up his hand. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it won’t happen again.”
“You said something about your wife?” Tom looked up at her. He had a sweet round face and big blue eyes. He nodded, and they filled with tears. “Tom?”
“She passed away last spring.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I never went swimming with her.”
“Pardon?”
“She loved going to the beach. She loved summer. Even at her age. Wearing shorts and swimsuits. She loved it. Somewhere along the way, I became self-conscious about this.” Tom patted his protruding stomach. “I refused to go with her.” His voice started to crack. “All I cared about was what other people would see. What they would think of me. I let years go to waste. I made her go alone every single time. One of the last things she said to me was, ‘Tom. People don’t care half as much as you think.’ ” He glanced at Bailey and chuckled. “Although you should have seen the look on your face. I guess I should have left my shorts on.” Bailey laughed, and then he laughed and soon they were in hysterics. Bailey started unbuttoning her shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“We’ll leave our undergarments on,” Bailey said. “But what do you say we give the Coast Guard something to honk at.”
Rachel and Dean, contrary to their usual noon wake-up call, were up soon after Bailey had taken off everything but her bra and underwear. And at the least the stereotype about the French being more comfortable about sex and their bodies proved true in this case, for they too undressed after hearing about Tom’s wish to get over his insecurities. The Frenchman was very skinny and hairy. The baby was chubby and adorable. The woman was very petite, and she even decided to go topless. After a while it all felt very normal. That is, until Jake and Angel walked in. Bailey was immediately jealous, not wanting to look at either of them stripped down. She didn’t have to worry because Jake just leaned against the counter and stared at Bailey, which was what he was doing when Brad walked in.
Brad let out a few expletives of his own. “Bailey?” he said, trying to make his voice sound under control. “A word?” When Bailey followed Brad into the living room, she imagined that Jake was watching her walk away. She didn’t dare turn and look to see that was the case, but she could feel it happening anyway. “What the hell is going on?”
“We’re helping Tom feel comfortable with his body,” Bailey said.
“Say more.” Bailey tried to fill him in. Brad just kept shaking his head. “Please,” he said. “Put your clothes back on.”
“Fine. But if I died and you wanted to get naked, I would only hope there would be people willing to support you.” Bailey started back to the kitchen. Brad reached out and stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
“My clothes are under the dining room table,” Bailey said.
“I’ll get them,” Brad said.
“Would you be acting this way if Angel had her clothes off?”
“Excuse me?”
“Bet you wouldn’t ask her to put her clothes back on.” Bailey could feel the bitterness coming out of her mouth, and she knew it wasn’t fair to blame all her jealousy on Brad, but she couldn’t help it. That’s what years of marriage did. Like little particles, little layers of dust accumulating year after year, and even though you tried to clean it out, the little misunderstandings, the tiny resentments, the disappointments, the words you couldn’t take back, the times you’d been taken for granted, the broken promises, they remained, no matter how much you cleaned.
“I would certainly ask her to put her clothes back on,” Brad said. “Just like I’m going to ask them all to put their clothes back on. Do you really want us to get some kind of bizarre reputation? Did you learn nothing from the séance? The whole town thinks we’re nuts!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just felt so proud of Tom for breaking out of his shell. I think this was very therapeutic for him.”
“I’m sure it was. But we’re not running a nudist colony.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
“I can’t believe you all did this.”
“Birds of a feather,” Bailey said. “Birds of a feather.” Brad stared her down. Then he shook his head. Next, he took off his T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” Bailey said.
“I can’t have you looking like the cool keeper, now can I?”
“Our poor children,” Bailey joked. “They’ll have two cool parents and no discipline.” She just said it to be funny. Or so she told herself. But she was saying things about kids all the time now. It was probably manipulative. Show her one marriage that wasn’t. Brad pulled Bailey into him and kissed her neck.
“You look mighty fine in your underwear, Ms. Jordan,” he said. “But if you ever take your clothes off around that horny man-boy in there who is so obviously hot to trot for you, we’re going to be wanted for the suspicious disappearance of a missing person. You got me, babe?”
“Got ya. He wasn’t here when the whole thing started.”
“You got your mulligan. We’ll start fresh.”
“Really?” Bailey called after him. “Hot to trot?”
“Drinks on deck,” Brad was calling it. Since the aging projector Brad bought in town couldn’t show a flick without skipping some parts, and game nights had caused more fights than they’d had in their entire marriage, he decided from now on they would just drink. He invited Captain Jack, Jake, and Angel, and of course Dean and Rachel. To Bailey’s disappointment, little Simone was sleeping. The only reminder of her existence was a baby monitor propped on one of the picnic tables.
Bailey thought they should
offer cocktails, but all they had was wine and beer. Nobody seemed to mind, but Bailey used the opportunity to bring up the margarita machine she’d wanted to buy. Why was it that Brad got every toy he asked for yet she couldn’t have hers? Then again, if she had a margarita machine close at hand, she might really start using it, running to it every time a guest stressed her out or Brad found some way to dash her hopes of becoming a mother. She’d start drinking in the morning while doing the dishes and having a little pick-me-up during the day. No. No matter what, they weren’t buying that machine.
And like she said, Rachel and Dean seemed happy with wine, the other men stuck with beer, and Angel insisted on drinking only fizzy water because she was going to go for a run in the morning. In theory, Bailey was totally supportive of exercise. But she noticed a tendency among those who did it religiously to always find a way to drop their healthy habits into conversations. “Sorry I couldn’t call you back—I was at the gym.” Or, “I can’t drink, I have to run in the morning.” Or, “I would love to catch a movie with you, right after my spin class.” Really, Bailey never walked around telling people she was making beds and mopping floors and making breakfasts and taking morning walks.
Well, maybe she did, but once in a while a girl had to vent. Bailey sipped her wine and just listened to the conversations around her. They talked and laughed, and drank, and came and went from the table, but Bailey just sat there looking at the baby monitor. She wished the sweet little girl would wake up so she could hold her and play with her and smell her hair. Would this be her life? Living vicariously through the children of their guests?
From the monitor came a slight crackle. Bailey leaned forward to listen closer. Suddenly, there was a faint tinkle, like a bell ringing, and the sound of laughter. Everyone who was still at the table froze. Rachel stood up first, grabbed the monitor, and looked up toward the room.
“Someone’s in there with her.” The laugh had definitely not been a baby’s laugh. Captain Jack’s face had gone as white as a sheet, so white Bailey couldn’t look at him. Everyone began the race to the stairwell together. When they reached the room, they were all breathless. The baby was standing up in the crib, looking at the corner of the room. There was no one there. Rachel grabbed her and held her.
“She’s fine,” Dean said.
“Who was laughing?” Bailey looked around for Brad. Since he wasn’t in the room, she turned and screamed his name. She felt a little guilty when the French couple slapped their hands over their ears, but it did the trick. Brad came running up the stairs.
“Where were you?”
“Sorry,” Brad said. “I was getting Angel a drink. What’s wrong?” Bailey filled him in, and was happy when Rachel and Dean added to the story. At least it wasn’t just her this time crying ghost. Brad and Jake began a room-by-room search. Bailey pulled Captain Jack out of the room.
“What aren’t you saying?” she whispered. Captain Jack shook his head and looked away. “Tell me.”
“It sounded just like her,” Captain Jack said.
“Who? It sounded just like who?”
“Edga.” Jake and Brad came stomping down from the third floor. Brad was carrying a picture frame. It had obviously been smashed; tiny shards of glass at the edges were all that remained intact. He turned the picture to Bailey. It was a black-and-white of a young couple. They were both very attractive, and smiling. Everyone looked at Captain Jack.
“That’s Edga and Trevor,” he said. “It was taken on their first day here.”
“Who is that?” Rachel said. “Is it the ghost who was laughing?”
“An American ghost!” Dean said. “We love it.”
“Not when she’s laughing at our baby, we don’t,” Rachel said.
“Where did that picture come from?” Bailey asked. “I’ve never seen it there before.”
“Neither had I,” Brad said. “It was in the middle of the floor.”
“Middle of the floor,” Jack repeated softly. “Underneath the highest rafter.”
“How did you—”
“Right where they found her hanging,” Jack finished. He shook his head and started for the stairs. Bailey hurried after him. He kept a fast clip and was soon out the door, almost running back to the ferry. Bailey went after him.
“Someone is playing a trick on us,” she said.
“I warned you,” Jack said. “Edga is still around.”
“She is not. I’m telling you—”
Jack whirled around. “Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry, Bailey. But it’s no trick. Strange things have been happening in the house and with the light since she died. I’m sure the Coast Guard has paid you a few visits about the light?”
“Of course. We think it’s just a malfunction—”
“It’s her. I’m telling you, it’s her. She wasn’t happy here. And if the look in your eyes is any kind of a clue, I don’t think you are either. It’s starting to scare me.”
“Scare you?”
“You remind me of her. In so many ways. She was so in love too. But it drove her crazy. She started to get paranoid.”
“Are you saying I’m paranoid?”
“If you’re not, you should be. You have a ghost! If I were you, I’d pack my bags and move out.”
“I don’t see that happening.”
“Good night, Bailey. Think about what I said.”
“What would we do? Have another auction?”
“No. I’d buy her off you.”
“Is that what this is all about? You want the lighthouse for yourself?”
“No,” Jack said. “I want to burn it.” With that and a tip of an invisible hat, he was once again off and running.
Chapter 27
On their second to last morning at the lighthouse, Bailey made Rachel and Dean French toast. Maybe that was a mistake. They were still talking about the sound of a woman’s laugh coming through the baby monitor.
“Angel left the table right before it happened,” Bailey said. “She said she was going to the bathroom.”
“You think it was her?” Dean said.
“It had to be,” Bailey said.
“Why didn’t she tell us?” Rachel said.
“Because she knew you wouldn’t like her sneaking into your baby’s room.”
“We have to ask her. Is she coming to breakfast?” Bailey looked out the window to see if she could spot her jogging down the path, but there was a thick layer of fog that morning, obscuring everything.
“She won’t tell us the truth,” Bailey said. “We’ll have to get her to laugh instead and then see if we recognize it.”
“What’s going on in here?” Brad entered the room freshly showered. Bailey loved how he smelled.
“We’re going to make the blonde with the big boobs laugh,” Dean said. Brad looked around to see what he was talking about.
“Your wife thinks she is the ghost,” Rachel said.
“I’m making French toast,” Bailey said. “Do you want some?”
“Do you make English muffins when the British come?” Dean said.
“No,” Brad said. “But we hang out two lanterns.” The couple just cocked their heads and looked at him. Bailey laughed. Dean thrust a syrupy knife in their direction.
“Ah, joke!” he said. “Very good. You can make the blonde laugh with that one, no?”
“Bailey?” Brad said. “A moment.”
“We don’t need a moment,” Bailey said. “They were just talking about hearing someone laugh on the baby monitor, and I just happened to remember that minutes before, Angel had excused herself to go to the restroom.”
“So?” Brad said.
“So obviously, she popped her head into the baby’s room, the baby did something funny, she laughed, then she lied about it.” Bailey kissed Brad on the cheek and handed him a cup of coffee.
“That’s not possible,” Brad said. Jake stepped into the room.
“What’s not possible?” Jake sa
id.
“Nothing,” Brad and Bailey said at the same time.
“The blonde with the big boobs is our ghost,” Dean said. “At least we think so. But first we have to say the English muffin joke and make her laugh.”
“I don’t get it,” Jake said.
“To be honest, we don’t either,” Dean said. “They are serving us French toast, because we are French, no? So I ask if they serve English muffins to the British. He says, ‘No, but we hang out the lantern.’ ”
“Two lanterns,” Brad said. “Two if by sea.”
“The British are coming,” Bailey said.
“Oh, so you are buying English muffins, no?”
“Would you like some French toast, Jake?”
“What were you saying about Angel?” As if on cue, Angel appeared in the doorway. She was in her usual running gear, tiny shorts and a tight sports bra. Bailey couldn’t stand the way the woman had to pop into the dining room in her sweaty little outfit every single morning before showering.
“Hi, y’all!” she called. “God, it’s so gorgeous out there. Oh my God, is that French toast? That smells delish!”
“If you go by sea, you can have two English muffins,” Dean said. He threw his head back and laughed, then stared at Angel, who just smiled back. He looked at Bailey and shrugged, like, I tried.
“I’m just going to have grapefruit,” Angel said, patting her flat, tanned stomach.
“Did you go into the baby’s room last night?” Jake said. “Were you the woman we heard laughing on the monitor?”
Interesting investigative style, Bailey thought. Confront the suspect directly. One problem. Suspects will lie.
“You got me!” Angel said.
“What?” Brad said.
“I should have ’fessed up. I love babies. I just couldn’t help a peek. She was awake when I went in and gave me the cutest little look. She just tucked her chin into her shoulder and smiled at me. I had to laugh.”