Jane walked through the house to her office, turning on lights as she went along. Her gaze swept the room and settled on her desk. The Lucite container was sitting on top of her computer keyboard, the green frog on top of the monitor. She whirled around. The tremor in her legs forced her to sit down. “Okay, what is it this time?” she demanded, her voice so shaky she hardly recognized it. She answered her own question by opening the Lucite box and removing the disks. She counted them, once then a second time. They were all there. The rubber band was still at the bottom of the box. She knew the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a rush of cold air swirl around the room.
Jane whirled about. “Is anyone there?” she asked, peering into the dark corners of the room.
“Just me, Billy,” a voice answered. “I’m over here, next to the bookcase. Bad things are happening. You have to be careful.”
Jane clenched the armrests of her chair and stared at the apparition. For some reason she wasn’t afraid. “All those other times I saw you—I wasn’t dreaming, was I?”
“I told you, you weren’t, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
“So . . . what you’re saying here is that you’re a ghost. A real live ghost.”
“Yes. I know you don’t believe in ghosts, but we really do exist. And we don’t all rattle chains or try to scare people. I prefer the word spirit opposed to ghost, and I definitely do not like being called a spook.”
“Okay, I can accept that. I think. Was it you who moved the box of disks and taped that paper to the disk?”
“Yes. Did it help you?”
“I’m sure you already know the answer to that. Tell me how you knew that letter was on that disk? More to the point, what do you know? Share your thoughts with me, Billy.”
“You’re too isolated way out here. This is a very old house and easy to break into. I don’t want you to worry, though. Jeeter and I will watch out for you. He’s playing with Olive in the kitchen. I wish you would call your friend.”
“Who? Mike?”
“No. Your lady friend. The one who is troubled.”
“If you’re referring to Betty, I can’t do that. She’s the patient of another colleague, and I can’t poach. That means it wouldn’t be professional.”
“I think she needs your help.”
“If she needed my help, she would call me. She hasn’t called all week. She is having dinner with my godparents on Christmas.”
“You could go to visit her the way you visited Mr. Ramsey.”
“I can’t. Sharon would report me to the Board if I did that. If she calls me, I can talk to her. Why don’t you visit her and plant the suggestion?”
“I can’t leave this house. I’m tied here forever. Mike’s turning into your driveway. Be careful, Miss Jane.”
The apparition faded into nothingness. Jane stared at the bookcases, unconvinced of what she’d just seen. She’d had a stressful day, and she was tired. Either she was hallucinating, or she’d dozed off. She got up to make her way to the second floor when suddenly she turned to see Mike standing in the doorway.
She flew into his arms and held on to him.
He gave her a kiss then pulled back. “Did you see Olive?”
“She was having herself a high old time in the back. She was running in circles and chasing something. She totally ignored me.” He started to take off his coat. “The Christmas tree smells really good when you first walk in. I brought a wreath for the front door. There was a hook on it so I hung it up. My mother always said a wreath on the front door made Christmas official. I think she was right. Want to see it?”
“Yeah. Does it have a red bow?”
“Of course and some pinecones and some other doodads.” He pulled the door open for her inspection.
The Christmas wreath was almost as big and wide as the old-fashioned door itself. “It’s beautiful, Mike. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Are you okay? You look kind of funny.” He closed the door and put his arm around her. “You get some wine, I’ll build a fire, and we’ll sit down and you can tell me what’s troubling you.”
“I always seem to have a problem of some kind,” Jane said.
“Better call Olive in, it’s getting nippy out there.”
Olive was already in the kitchen, her nose in her food bowl just the way Billy said she was. Jane watched as the springer suddenly moved to the side as though to allow room for someone else to eat from the bowl. Jeeter? “There’s no such thing as a ghost,” she muttered to herself. Olive walked away from the bowl and Jane did a double take when she saw the food in the dish disappear in front of her eyes. Don’t’t think about what you just saw. You need glasses, Jane. You know you can’t see a thing up close.
With wine bottle, glasses, and corkscrew in hand, Jane fled the kitchen. She added what just happened in the kitchen to the long list of things she didn’t want to think about. “How’s that for a fire?” Mike stood to the right of the fireplace, admiring his handiwork.
“Pretty darn nice. I bet you were a great Boy Scout!”
“I have the badges to prove it. Actually, my mother has them. She framed them. Mothers do stuff like that.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Jesus, Jane, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
“I know you didn’t. What should we toast? I can’t believe Christmas is only three days away. Where did the time go? I say that every year.”
Mike raised his glass. “To Christmas! To us! To all our tomorrows, may they all be wonderful!”
“That’s a very worthy toast, so I’ll drink to it,” Jane said, clinking her glass against Mike’s.
“Now tell me what’s causing that look of worry on your face.”
She told him about her luncheon with Todd and how he’d reacted. Then she told him about what had happened in her office. “I was so certain I was wide-awake, but the truth is I must have dozed off. Anyway, I had this weird dream that I should call Betty Vance. Do you think it would be okay to drive by her apartment to drop off a present? For some reason of late, I’ve been paying attention to my dreams. It would relieve my mind to know she’s okay. On the other hand, I could take it with me to Trixie’s Sunday evening and leave it there, since she’s going to be having dinner with her and Fred.”
“I think you should leave well enough alone. I don’t like that business with Prentice. I sense trouble, Jane. What in the world possessed you to say those things?”
“He’s in this up to his neck. I just don’t know how or why.”
“You aren’t going to leave it alone, are you?”
“No, Mike, I’m not. I’m sick and tired of feeling guilty and ashamed. If there’s something I can do now, I’m going to do it. I probably never would have done a thing if Brian Ramsey hadn’t come to me. I would have gone through life never shedding this awful guilt. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t approve of this either, right?” Jane said, moving farther away on the couch.
Mike’s arm snaked out to pull her back to his side. “It’s not a question of approval, Jane. You’re disrupting people’s lives. No one takes that sitting down. Eventually someone is going to lash out, strike back, or do something. I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Think about it. You’re way out here, five miles away from your godparents and no neighbors on the other side of you. You’re a mile in off the highway.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re succeeding, Mike.”
“That’s great. At least you’re listening to me for a change.”
“Does that mean you won’t go with me to Betty’s apartment to drop off the Christmas gift?”
“Look, if you’re that concerned, call her. Wish her a Merry Christmas and hang up. Sharon Thomas can’t find fault with that. Even so, I wish you wouldn’t do it. You have to learn when to let go.”
“I did let go, damn it. I never call her. She calls me. We talk about her job, her apartment, her dog, her visits to
Trixie. The calls last five minutes. Sometimes a friendly voice is all it takes to get a troubled person over a particular hurdle.”
“I got a present today from one of my patients,” he said, switching topics before an argument started. “Guess who?” he teased.
“From your battery guy?”
“Yep. Battery-operated ski socks, battery-operated ski gloves, a battery-operated ski cap, a battery-operated thermos, and a battery-operated set of Christmas lights, guaranteed to last for six full hours. And a charger!”
Jane burst out laughing. “Guess that means you haven’t made any progress.”
“Not one bit. He talks and talks and talks, but he doesn’t say anything. He is so clueless it’s mind-boggling. He told me the other day that sooner or later I would hit on what his problem is. He said he has the utmost faith in my ability. That’s the term he used, hit on it.”
“I have every faith in you, too, Mike. Sooner or later you will hit on it,” Jane giggled.
Mike grimaced. “So, do you want to have sex or do you want to eat?”
“Eat,” Jane said smartly.
“Great. You smell terrible. How much garlic did you eat today?”
Jane threw a pillow at his retreating back.
12
“Merry Christmas, Trixie! Merry Christmas, Fred!” Jane said, throwing her arms around both godparents. “Mike’s bringing in the presents. Oooh, it smells so good in here! I don’t know how you guys do it. You both work all day and yet this house looks like it took weeks to decorate. It looks better than those glossy spreads you see in Beautiful Homes. I just love Christmas!”
“Me, too!” Fred said, reaching for the pile of presents as Mike came through the door. “I’ll put these under the tree.”
“I have two more loads,” Mike said, rubbing his arms. “Brrr. I bet the temperature dropped to thirty degrees. It’s gumbo weather, as my mother always says.”
“I always say that, too,” Trixie chimed in, her face aglow with happiness. She was resplendent in an ankle-length, red-velvet skirt trimmed with faux ermine, and a white sweater covered with sparkling beads. She laughed in delight as she plopped a Santa hat on top of her curls. “Flash loves this hat! He grabs it and runs off with it every chance he gets.”
Fred rejoined them, smacking his hands together in glee. “This is going to be a wonderful holiday. Dinner won’t be ready for at least an hour, so let’s sit by the fire and look at that glorious pile of presents. The dogs are curled up toasting on the hearth. Would you like some wine, a drink, or perhaps some of Trixie’s famous egg-nog?”
Jane giggled as she stared at Fred’s reindeer suspenders. He, too, wore a Santa hat. “Eggnog, of course,” she said.
As soon as the door opened, Fred posed the same question to Mike.
“Eggnog, please.” He handed the second pile of presents over to Fred and started back for the third and final load. “Who in the world are all these presents for?” he asked, his breathing a little more labored than usual.
“Some are for Trixie and Fred. Some for Flash and Olive. And there might even be one or two in there for you,” Jane said as she winked roguishly.
“I do my shopping in the middle of the night by dialing 1-800. I did some on-line shopping this year, too,” Trixie chirped.
“Me, too,” Jane said, accepting a cup of eggnog from Fred. “I hope you guys don’t mind that I had my calls forwarded here. Mike and I were talking about leaving from here for New Orleans. Of course that depends on how much eggnog we drink tonight. I don’t think any calls will come in, but you never know. Mike has someone covering for him, so he doesn’t have a problem.”
“We can handle any calls that come in. What did you decide about the radio show, Jane?” Fred asked.
“My contract is up January 3. If the sponsors are willing, Mike will take it over. I’ll guest on it for a little while, so the transition will be smooth. I’m not worried about it. What’s for dinner, Trixie?”
“Roast goose, prime rib, plum pudding, shrimp-and-lobster cocktail, crab tart, and all kinds of good things.”
“Good lord, Trixie, when did you find time to do all that?” Jane asked in amazement.
Trixie looked at Fred and grinned. “We thought we’d get real creative with dinner this year. When the Neiman Marcus catalog arrived last August, I called them up and ordered two dinners, one for tonight and one for tomorrow night. The deliveryman brought them bright and early this morning. All I have to do is press a button to heat everything. Do you feel cheated that I didn’t cook it myself?” Trixie asked, her voice anxious.
“Not at all,” Jane said, chuckling. Neiman Marcus! My God! A dinner from them must have cost a fortune, but she wasn’t going to ask how much. If she did, she would probably lose her appetite. Leave it up to Trixie.
“It doesn’t matter to me either,” Mike said, coming in the door with the last load of presents. “I’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t Froot Loops.”
The evening progressed nicely until the eggnog was gone, at which point Fred suggested a sing-along while he played some favorite Christmas songs on the piano. They all sang with gusto, the dogs barking in the background. It was eight o’clock when Trixie called a halt to the festivities and announced dinner.
Jane loved sitting in the old-fashioned dining room. She particularly loved the furniture that had been Trixie’s grandmother’s. It was old, scarred, and nicked but it had character. Trixie polished it once a week with beeswax and then lemon oil so the wood wouldn’t dry out. Jane knew one day it would be hers to polish and preserve.
The tablecloth, another of Trixie’s grandmother’s heirlooms, was pure linen that had been washed and ironed so many times it had the sheen of satin. The centerpiece was an exquisite, cut-glass bowl with scarlet poinsettias floating in water. Bayberry candles, two inches high on crystal saucers, surrounded the bowl, giving off a heady scent. The arrangement had been chosen so it wouldn’t interfere with cross-table conversation. Fred hated it when he had to crane or stretch his neck over a tall centerpiece to talk to someone.
Christmas Eve dinner was a tradition Fred and Trixie had started long ago, when Jane was an unhappy youngster in search of love. Now it would be Mike’s tradition as well. Jane glowed with pleasure. She’d never been happier in her life. She reached up to accept a crystal bowl full of ambrosia when Mike winked at her. She got so flustered she almost dropped the bowl.
“It was a great dinner. Now if we all pitch in, we can get the cleanup out of the way and head for the presents. All in favor say aye!” Jane announced.
“Aye!” Four voices shouted simultaneously.
The cleanup was accomplished in under thirty minutes. Fred replenished the fire, handed out treats to the dogs, and sat down next to Trixie. “Janie always hands out the presents. We take turns opening them so we can oooh and aaahh over them. We’ve been doing it that way for a long time. It does take a bit of time, but everyone spends a lot of time choosing, wrapping, and admiring the gifts, so we want the experience to last as long as possible,” Fred said.
“I think I need some help this year, Fred.” Jane looked at Mike, who, she noticed, was watching her intently. “My pile goes in front of me, yours in front of you, ditto for Fred and Trixie, and the dogs’ pile—I mean presents—go over there by the chaise. The presents wrapped in silver with the bells are opened last. That means they’re special presents. Don’t screw it up now,” she said, shaking a finger at him. She was absolutely giddy. Was tonight the night Mike would ask her to marry him? Would there be a ring? She promised herself that if it didn’t happen, she wouldn’t be disappointed, but she knew she would be.
“God forbid that I should screw up,” Mike grinned, getting into the swing of things.
For two wonderful hours the foursome whooped and hollered over the silly gadget gifts and murmured with pure delight over the more serious, thoughtful ones.
“T. F. Dingle!” Mike shouted. “All the ones I don’t have! Jane, where did you get
them? My God, I can’t wait to read them.” He raised his eyes to look at Fred and Trixie. “You must think I’m nuts, but I love this guy. When I was in college, and if a new book came out, and it was a choice between a frat party with three kegs or the new book, the book won. Hands down. I don’t know how to thank you, Jane. That must have taken some doing. And they’re autographed, too!” he said, slapping his head in amazement. “How’d you do it?”
“Well I . . . what I did was . . .” She looked at her godparents for help.
“She just asked us to sign them,” Trixie blurted. “Fred and I are T. F. Dingle. You are the only other person in town besides Jane who knows this. Please keep our secret. We asked Janie not to tell. If you’re going to be part of this little family, you have a right to know.”
Mike stared at them in disbelief. “You’re kidding me. You two are him?” he said, looking down at the books in his hand. Fred and Trixie nodded in unison. “My God. I can’t believe it. I would never have guessed in a million years. And you’re two people! I never would have guessed that either.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay, I get it. The T is for Trixie and the F is for Fred. Where did the Dingle come from?” Mike put the books down and walked over to Fred and Trixie. He pumped their hands furiously until Trixie squealed for mercy.
“Fred had a dog named Dingle when he was a boy,” Trixie explained, tucking her hand beneath her.
“Well, I’m honored. I’m really honored,” Mike said, returning to his seat, a grin the size of Texas on his face.
His excitement was such that he reminded Jane of a little boy getting a much-wanted toy—the toy of his dreams. She smiled at Trixie, silently thanking her for letting Mike in on the secret.
“Your turn, Janie,” Fred said.
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