For old gals, they sure could knock them back.
The laugher got louder and the stories got crazier as the Fab Four yanked and raked their way through the formal gardens. Tazer stuck his nose in here and there, but mostly he was happy to find warm, sunny spots to doze in.
By the time the afternoon was winding down, Shelby was pretty sure she knew the difference between a runner and an invasive. And by about half past three, she and The Four were sitting on the south porch with a fresh pitcher of margaritas on the table in front of them, relaxing and lifting their faces to the sun.
“Oh yes. The Tanner family has always been important around these parts,” Lucy, the most exuberant of the bunch, was saying. The wiry blonde pushed her hair back. “Heavy supporters of local causes. Thanks, honey,” she said as Nan passed the pitcher.
“Beth Tanner was president of the Historical Society for four years.” Em took up the narrative. She stretched out her long legs and relaxed deeper into her chair.
“Beth?” Shelby asked.
“Lee’s mother.” The speaker this time was Helen Whitevale. Like Nan, Helen had left her hair gray. Nan’s brown eyes always sparkled with a hint of mischief. She also had an impressive set of boobs. “Scuttlebutt says he wanted more children. She was dead set against it and eventually left him.”
Shelby blinked when all four women watched her expectantly. She cleared her throat. “Lee doesn’t talk about his mother.”
The women looked disappointed, like they’d been hoping for insider information.
“Oh well,” Nan said eventually. “We haven’t seen Beth since, what, the mid-eighties?” Heads nodded in affirmation. “They never divorced though.”
“She was the love of his life.” This from tall Em.
“Pity,” Lucy added. “Lee’s father is a hunk.”
“Another chip off the old Raleigh block.” Nan laughed, and the others joined in.
“Raleigh?” Shelby asked suspiciously.
The Fab Four sobered.
“Sorry. Slip of the tongue,” Nan offered lamely. “Never mind me, dear. Tequila always makes me—”
“I distinctly heard you say Raleigh,” Shelby interrupted coolly. “As in Raleigh Tanner?”
“Ahh. He’s been around, has he?”
“Thought he might be.” This was from Lucy. “Lovely thing like you here and all.”
Helen piped up. “I’ll say this for him—dead or not, the man’s dynamite in the sack.”
When the women raised their glasses, Shelby balked. She was taken aback by how nonchalant they were about the whole thing. Like rakehell ghosts were common around these parts.
“Remember the last Thanksgiving Festival they held here?” Nan said.
“Oh yes. That was before Beth left. Decades ago,” Em added as an aside to Shelby. “Say, since you’re here now, why don’t you talk to Lee about holding another one.”
“He might go for it if we make it a charity event with proceeds going to the Historical Society.”
Shelby was amazed by how fast the conversation moved. Ideas and plans formed almost quicker than she could keep track. Among their other talents, these gals could brainstorm.
“I also suspect the break-ins would taper off considerably if people around here—this new generation of hoodlums who I suspect are behind most of them—got to know you.”
“We could host the traditional open house the day before Thanksgiving. Grant access to the grand Tanner grounds.”
“We’ll need a menu. Nothing we can’t put together ourselves though.”
“Shelby, once we decide on the entertainers and menu, you’ll help us figure out the admission price, won’t you?”
She nodded dumbly. It was the only thing she could think of that might ground her in the middle of the idea storm whirling around her. “Sure. I mean of course.”
“Fantastic. Now, we’ll also need entertainment that will draw children.” The pitcher made the rounds again. “That’ll get the parents to…”
* * * *
“Chief Gardner?” When she was connected to the local fire chief, Shelby turned her task chair away from her monitor. “My name is Shelby Prentice. I’m calling on behalf of Lee Tanner about a fireworks permit…oh you have? She did? Nan West and the rest of the Historical Society are a force to be reckoned with. Hmm? Yes, the event’s for charity. You do?”
She sat back and listened while Chief Gardner told her about the fire department’s spring fundraiser, how they hadn’t settled on a venue for next year, and how the Tanner family had hosted the event once or twice in the eighties.
By the time the call ended, Shelby had been promised a fireworks permit, a group of volunteer firemen to run the display, and she’d promised to ask Lee if he’d host the fire department’s spring fundraiser.
She was pretty sure he’d say yes. Like the Thanksgiving Festival, his hosting duties would consist of being there, shaking hands, and encouraging people to open their wallets.
Although when she’d first broached the subject of the Historical Society fundraiser, he’d been hesitant.
“I’ve got no talent for stuff like that,” Lee had insisted over the phone. He’d had to go back to the job site in Veracruz, and she could hear muted wharf sounds in the background. “Sure they can use the house and grounds. I’m all for it. But are you willing to take this on? I won’t have the time to help you.”
“The Fab Four are doing most of the work. Those women are a force of nature.”
Lee had laughed with her at that. “I miss you,” he’d said, changing the subject suddenly. “I’ll be back in a couple of days. I can’t wait to get home.”
Smiling, Shelby stopped reminiscing and turned back to her computer.
“I adore all this activity.”
She looked up when she heard Raleigh’s voice. He was standing by a window, immaculately dressed as always, watching her fondly.
“The house was so dead before you arrived. No pun intended.” He cocked his head, like he was listening to the Fab Four banging around in the kitchen, laughing up a storm as they prepared various menu items for the Festival. “Now, it’s like old times. Like things were before my wife and Devon died.” Usually, when he spoke about his daughter, Raleigh was sad. Today however, he seemed energized, like he was remembering happy times, and not just the aftermath of their deaths. “Devon was so full of life. She drew people to her like moths to a flame. A chip off the old block, if I do say so myself. I tried not to be partisan, but I was probably her most adoring follower.”
Picking up her notebook, Shelby stood and headed for the door. “Coming?” she asked him. “I believe you, er, know them.”
Raleigh threw his head back and laughed ribaldy. “I do indeed. The Historical Society ladies are charming through and through. You go along, my dear,” he said and pressed an unexpectedly chaste kiss to her forehead. Since her first night with Lee, Raleigh hadn’t been around. “I’m going to enjoy the sunshine for awhile.” With that, he turned back to the window, tilted his face up, and shut his eyes.
When Shelby entered the kitchen, she tried not to gawk at the squat man standing beside the island. She’d never seen him before. He was wearing a tall white hat, a white tunic, and checkered pants. When he saw Shelby, he turned to her and held out his arms in obvious exasperation.
“Hippies,” he barked. “Hmmph.” He made a very snooty, grunting sound and pointed at the Fab Four. “No professionalism in the kitchen.” For all his outrage, the man’s silhouette wavered, and at times, Shelby could make out the island behind him. “No willingness to plan, never on time, and they don’t wash their hands often enough.” This he shouted at Lucy as she rushed past, carrying a salad bowl.
Without a single reaction, Lucy passed through him like he wasn’t there.
Shelby kept her mouth shut and took a stool on the opposite side of the island.
“We decided against deep-fried turkey,” Em told her and set out a sampling of roast vegetables.
&
nbsp; “We figured, it being the Thanksgiving weekend and all, we didn’t want to feed people the same meat they’d have at home.” This was from Helen. She smiled at Shelby, and, as always, the gray-haired woman’s eyes sparkled. “So we settled on roast beef. We can rent commercial ovens, set them up outside, and cook up half a cow without breaking a sweat.”
Nan added, “We figure the smell will drive the crowd wild, and we should be able to sell more hot dogs, ice cream, and baked goods during the day.”
“Devious and clever,” Shelby acknowledged. She leaned back on her stool when the ghost chef leaned over the vegetables in front of her, sniffing them like they were offensive. “And who said ex-hippies couldn’t plan.” The Fab Four grinned. The chef harrumphed, stuck his nose in the air, and walked out of the kitchen—straight through an exterior wall.
Shelby opened her notebook. “Okay, details time. I’ve hired a clown who does a magic act and makes balloon animals.” The other women picked up their wine glasses and turned their attention to her. “He’ll donate his services in exchange for free advertising.” Shelby jotted down another note. “I have to scout out a sign maker. I thought we’d have a big, general sign near the front door, listing everyone who’s supplied goods or services for free.”
“And smaller signs, too,” Em suggested. “One for each booth or event area, to reinforce the donated-by message.”
“Good idea,” the others seconded.
Shelby made an additional note. “I just spoke to Chief Gardner. The fire department will run the fireworks display. Lee said he’d pay for the fireworks and talk to the retailer about a discount.”
“Hear, hear!” A round of toasts followed.
Grinning, Shelby continued. “Thanks to Helen, I’ve got a contact number for a carnival that will rent us booths at a discount. Things like games of chance for kids and adults.”
“Don’t forget the progressive euchre tent,” Nan said adamantly. The others nodded with a fervor usually reserved for religion.
“Not forgotten,” Shelby affirmed, tapping her pen beside the notation. “All we need to do now is confirm our volunteer line-up and ask who wants to run the treasure hunt and the races.”
“Far out,” Em cried, hiccupped, and took another sip of wine.
While Shelby re-checked her list, the women prepared sample menu plates…adult and children’s portions. She rolled her eyes and made a yummy sound when she tried Lucy’s green bean casserole. “Okay, each admission ticket will include access to the grounds, a tour of the house, dinner, and fireworks. This afternoon, I’ll firm up arrangements for the pony rides…oh and I thought about asking the local animal shelter to bring some animals for an adoption drive.”
“We’re already getting donations for the charity auction,” Helen said. “I’m bidding on the weekend getaway to Savannah, and don’t any of you dare bid against me.”
The others crossed their hearts and promised.
“One last thing,” Shelby said as she cut into the roast beef on her plate. “A friend of Lee’s owns a microbrewery not far from here. They asked if we’d be interested in a cash bar.”
“Hell yeah,” Lucy answered first, followed by the others.
Grinning, Shelby continued to sample the dishes, made ingredient and portion lists, and began calculating the price point of each offering.
* * * *
May 10, 1922
Devon’s fever goes on and on. The doctor and I are at our wit’s end. Raleigh telegraphed again to say he’s sending two specialists from the city and a nurse to tend to us. I’ve been ordered to bed with fever, too, so I must rely on reports from the staff about how my baby is doing.
The previous artistry of Arabella Tanner’s penmanship had declined. As she read on, Shelby felt her chest tighten.
Elizabeth, one of the maids, has been unable to leave her bed for a full day now. I wasn’t meant to overhear, but they said she wasn’t expected to survive the night. I’m so frightened. I shall sleep for awhile now. When I awake, perhaps I’ll find everyone was overreacting and this nuisance fever has passed.
The rest of Arabella’s journal was blank. There were no more entries.
Shelby’s hand shook as she set the leather-bound book on her night table. She wiped away the moisture stinging her eyes, turned off the light, and felt better when she realized Lee would be back in two days.
* * * *
Warm hands plumped her breasts. A moustache tickled her skin before her nipple was drawn into a moist, talented mouth.
Shelby’s eyes shot open. “Raleigh,” she barked and slapped his head until he backed off. She grabbed the covers and yanked them up to her chin. “Stop taking my clothes off. And get out of my bed.”
He chuckled, and it was a low, masculine, infuriating sound. Shelby threw her pillow, and it sailed right through him. By moonlight, Raleigh Tanner was obnoxiously gorgeous. His lean body seemed to shimmer, drawing her eye to his well-proportioned chest, long legs, and the annoyingly delicious erection he was sporting.
She reached back to grab another pillow.
“All right,” he sighed and held his hands up defensively. “All right. Message received.” He rubbed his forehead while Shelby reached over the side of the bed, grabbed her nightgown, and huddled under the covers to re-dress herself.
When she came back up, Raleigh was wearing silk pajamas. A talent like that would save a lot of time. And if she wasn’t so annoyed with him, she’d admit to herself he looked hot in them.
He burrowed beneath the covers beside her and spooned his body around hers. “You’re the first Tanner woman to reject my advances,” he sulked.
“Wait…you slept with your descendants?”
“Heavens no.” He sounded appalled. “That would make me a pervert. No, my male descents, and there have been nothing but, have always chosen the most charming, beautiful women. Why do you think the Tanner men have become progressively more handsome through the generations? My descendants have benefited from their mothers’ beauty. You, my dear, are the pick of the crop.” His hand wandered over her hip. Shelby pushed it away.
“I’m not—”
“Any fool,” he interrupted smoothly, “could see how Lee feels about you. It’s early days yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find he’s slipped a ring on that lovely finger of yours within a year.”
Shelby thought about kicking Raleigh out of bed. She knew his moods and his habits though, and this was the introspective Raleigh who hid his loneliness behind glib humor and polished reserve. Even ghosts needed a cuddle now and then. Her guilt over dumping him eased when she realized how casually Raleigh viewed their relationship—as casually as she had. She was also thinking about what he’d said about Lee. It made her hope, probably too much.
“Why only male descendants?” she asked, interrupting the quiet that had settled between them.
Behind her, Raleigh tensed. “Devonna was the last female Tanner born.” His voice was quiet and sad. “My son’s wife had two stillborn daughters. Although she gave him a marvelous and healthy son, she became convinced no Tanner daughter would survive.”
“And the story of an imagined curse was born.”
Raleigh sighed. “Yes. Bertie’s wife went a bit mad at the end, but that didn’t stop the stories about a curse.”
Shelby considered that. She was pretty sure Devon’s ghost could have freaked out the subsequent Tanner wives. Raleigh’s ghost, too. Although it was pure speculation, it could explain why Lee’s mother left.
“You never remarried?” Shelby asked. He’d been in his late thirties when Devon and his wife died.
“I didn’t have the heart to.” He hugged her like her warmth was a balm. “After awhile, I did think about trying to move on. Rebuild my life. There was a reason I stayed here though. Like you, I heard her sometimes, usually in that twilight consciousness between asleep and awake. I’d hear her laughter in the gardens, hear her skipping up the stairs. Sometimes I swore I could feel her little hand on my arm
, catch her scent in passing.
“A parent isn’t supposed to have favorites,” he confessed quietly. “I loved my son, but he was a boy. He had to be prepared to be a fierce competitor in business. Devonna was…she was simply my little girl. I could dote on her, spoil her although her mother insisted I maintain some balance and discipline her when needed. I put on a good show, but I could never discipline her too severely.”
After that, they fell silent. When the alarm woke Shelby, she was alone again. And still clothed. The spare pillow held an impression of Raleigh’s head. The room still carried a faint scent of sandalwood and fine cigar.
As she made her way to the shower, Shelby promised herself to devote more time to reading the Tanner wives’ journals.
Chapter Nine
“He wants better locks on the office doors. What do I know about locks?”
“Yes, Myrtle. It’ll be all right.”
“No it won’t. How can it be all right? I’m just a secretary. My boss will blow his top if I can’t get this done.”
When Shelby made her way to the back hallway, Myrtle passed right through the wall beside her.
Myrtle was dressed in a fitted knee-length suit, and her hair was rolled up post–World War II style. Her lipstick was a matte, shocking red. “What do I do?” she wailed, which was cliché for a ghost. Shelby held off on commenting.
“Hire a locksmith,” Shelby said calmly. She walked outside. Myrtle walked through the door as it was closing. “Ask your building handyman to recommend someone.”
“Really? He’ll do that?”
“Absolutely.” Shelby would have patted Myrtle’s hand, but the ghost lacked substance. Shelby trying to touch her freaked Myrtle out—even more than her usual state of freaked.
With a thoughtful look on her face, Myrtle stood still, then faded away.
“She’s reliving the new lock request again?” Raleigh was sitting at a wrought iron table on the back patio. The morning sun shone in his dark hair. He was reading a newspaper and turned the next page with an audible snap. Shelby didn’t subscribe to a paper and quickly gave up wondering where his had come from.
Campbell, Gwen - Ghostly Seduction (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 12