Emma looked up. “You’re right, Dolly. There is something odd about that light fixture.”
“I call it Lenny the Light Bulb.”
“You gave the light a name?”
“Why not? His stuffed animals have names.”
Dolly Meskiel moved closer to the counter. She was in her mid-seventies but moved with the lightness of a much younger woman. A multicolored scarf held her long silver hair back from her still attractive face. Her flouncy Indian print skirt was paired with a long-sleeved peasant blouse of creamy cotton, divided at the waist by a cord of burgundy velvet with silver embellishments. On her feet were hot pink Crocs. Hanging heavily around her neck was an impressive squash blossom necklace. Dolly was not afraid of color.
Emma felt Dolly’s eyes on her, studying her through wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her slender nose. Behind the lenses sat sharp blue eyes that matched the color of her thick eye shadow.
“At first it was a silly joke,” Dolly explained. “I started calling the light Lenny when I noticed Nicholas talking to it all the time.” Dolly gently stroked the baby’s fine dark hair with a thin hand. “When his fixation continued, I wondered if there was more to it, especially since Nicholas doesn’t obsess on any other lights, just this one.”
“You think there might be a ghost haunting your house?” Emma looked up at the light again. She couldn’t feel the presence of any spirits, save Granny, and she presently couldn’t see any except for Granny. With Dolly’s air-conditioning running, it was also difficult for Emma to gauge any unusual pockets of cool air, often a sign that spirits were nearby.
“Not my house, just that light.” With a protective hand still on the child’s head, Dolly also peered up at the fixture. “Can ghosts inhabit lights? I’ve never heard of such a thing, but thought if anyone would know, it would be you.”
The comment gave Emma a start. Dolly’s only child was Milo Ravenscroft, Emma’s mentor, friend, and world-famous medium. Emma had driven to Las Vegas as a favor to Milo, though she was still puzzled as to why he needed her help. He was far superior to her in communicating with the other side.
Milo was in Las Vegas with Tracy Bass, his fiancée and Emma’s closest friend, but although the couple was staying with Dolly, neither was currently at Dolly’s townhouse in a quiet neighborhood that seemed light-years away from the glitz and clamor of the famous Strip. Once Emma had arrived and introductions had been made, Milo and Tracy left, saying they had an appointment at the university. Emma knew it was an excuse to let her interact with Dolly without distraction. Before leaving, Milo had said he and Tracy would meet up with Emma later at her hotel. In her head, Emma was working on a list of questions to ask Milo when she saw them.
Emma had left her home in Pasadena shortly after six that morning, just ahead of Tuesday rush-hour traffic. She’d covered the two hundred sixty miles to Vegas in a little over four hours, stopping once, in Baker, to grab a bagel and a cup of coffee at the Mad Greek. Eager to find out what was going on, she’d driven straight to Dolly’s from there. Granny had been excited to tag along to Las Vegas. She loved the place and she loved long car trips. During the drive Emma had listened to a book on tape, something she enjoyed doing and something Granny liked a great deal.
“I may not be able to read very well,” Granny had said, excited as the trip began, “or hold a book, but I sure can listen.”
Emma glanced quickly at Granny, then flashed her eyes upward, indicating she wanted to know what the ghost thought about the light fixture. She did not want Dolly to know about Granny, at least not yet.
Granny moved into Emma’s line of sight and shrugged, letting her know she hadn’t picked up on any spirits either.
“Why Lenny?” Emma asked Dolly.
Dolly hesitated before answering. “I don’t really know. It just seemed to fit.”
Dolly’s hand went from the baby’s head to her own hair. A long lock had fallen across her shoulder. She twisted it while she gave the question more thought. It was a gesture Emma expected from a very young woman, not from someone her parents’ age. She watched Dolly more carefully, wondering if the hair twisting was a sign of nervousness or simply an unconscious habit.
“It was the oddest thing,” Dolly explained. “One morning the name just sort of popped out of my mouth, rather like a hiccup.” She stopped playing with her hair, tossing the long gray strand back over her left shoulder. “Sounds good, though, doesn’t it? Lenny the Light Bulb. Sounds a lot better than Jack the Light Bulb or Maurice the Light Bulb.”
“She’s got a point,” added Granny, who floated closer to the baby, stopping next to Emma.
Emma wiggled the baby’s foot with its blue sock and cooed at him. Still laughing at the light, Nicholas responded by letting his eyes drift down to her. He smiled, showing off two bottom front teeth. When his gaze drifted to Emma’s right, where Granny stood, he wiggled in his seat and grinned in that direction.
“I think the little tyke can see me,” Granny told Emma. Granny slowly moved away from Emma. With his eyes, Nicholas followed Granny’s movement. When she got several feet away, he frowned with confusion and twisted his head to see her better. Granny started to move back toward him. When she got close, Nicholas’s face lit up. “Now I’m sure of it.”
Emma took note of Granny’s experiment, but said nothing. She turned her attention back to Dolly, “What do his parents think?”
“His parents think Lenny the Light Bulb is a funny, cute game I play with their son. I haven’t said anything to them about ghosts.”
“Probably a good idea, at least for the time being. Do you know where they stand on the paranormal?”
“Not really. I’ve been watching Nicholas for nearly two months now, but haven’t spent much time with the Fosters. Usually John drops the baby off every weekday morning between seven thirty and eight. He’s a cop here in town. Suzanne works part-time in a doctor’s office and picks him up around one or one thirty in the afternoon. They live in this complex, but a few buildings over. It’s convenient for them and a good way for me to supplement my income. Plus I enjoy it. It makes me feel less of an old lady.”
Dolly went to the refrigerator and pulled out some baby food. “I didn’t want to scare them, or make them think twice about letting me take care of Nicholas. John already thinks I’m a bit of an eccentric, what with the fortune telling and all, but I was referred to them by people they trust.”
“You tell fortunes?” asked Emma with surprise.
“Yes, didn’t Milo tell you that?”
Emma searched her memory until she found the answer. Milo had never said a thing to her about it, but Tracy had. In a phone call to Emma after her first meeting with her future mother-in-law, Tracy had announced to Emma with amusement that Dolly was a fortune-teller right out of central casting, and a former showgirl.
“No,” Emma said, “but I do recall now that Tracy mentioned it. She also said you were once a showgirl.”
Dolly straightened her posture and smiled. “That’s right, in one of the best shows of its kind. Of course, that was when I was in my twenties. Both Vegas and I were fresh and sassy back then.”
Emma gave the woman a big smile in return. Behind the heavy makeup and loose clothing, Dolly was still a very attractive woman and maintained a trim figure.
“I have a little shop downtown on Fremont Street where I read fortunes,” Dolly said with the same pride she held for her showgirl days. “Been there quite a long time.”
Emma looked around the townhouse, understanding now some of the decor. Even though the complex was modern, Dolly’s home looked like an explosion of a gypsy wagon. While the ceilings were a plain creamy white, the walls were painted different bold colors, and brightly patterned rugs and cushions were scattered across the wood floor. The furnishings were solid and old and also brightly colored. Nothing seemed to match. Books and candles were everywhere. Dolly’s home definitely was not the norm for desert décor.
Knowing Milo and
his quirky ways, Emma didn’t expect his mother to be a June Cleaver knockoff, but she wasn’t quite expecting Dolly. So far, she liked the woman. According to Tracy, she also liked and got along well with Dolly. There was something whimsical about Milo’s mother—a rare combination of daffy and wise under the hippy-dippy clothes and electric eye makeup. But Emma still wondered why Dolly hadn’t asked her son to check out Lenny.
“May I?” Emma asked, indicating she wanted to pick up Nicholas.
Dolly smiled. “He loves to be held and cuddled.”
Emma scooped up the solid baby boy and held him so he was facing her. He wiggled and cooed and touched her face, but his eyes never left Granny. They moved as she moved. Emma walked around Dolly’s dining area and living room with him, but Nicholas was determined to keep eye contact with Granny Apples. It wasn’t until Granny disappeared that he concentrated on Emma, changing his focus to her chunky necklace. When she walked back to the kitchen counter, the bold jewelry was quickly forgotten as the baby held out his arms—not to Dolly, but toward the overhead light.
“See what I mean?” Dolly held out her arms and Emma transferred the baby into them. “There’s something in that light. Something only Nicholas can see.”
Although she was in agreement, Emma kept her own counsel. She wanted to talk it over with Milo and see what he thought about the little boy’s behavior. Although Emma knew it was not uncommon for very young children to see or sense spirits, she’d never encountered one personally.
“It is odd, but let me think on this a bit, Dolly, and I’d like to discuss it with Milo. He’s really the expert.”
At Emma’s words, Dolly pursed her lips in disapproval. Or was it disappointment? Emma couldn’t tell.
“I’ll be in town for a few days. Do you mind if I drop by again?”
“Not at all. It would be a pleasure, Emma. I’m usually home until about four each day. After that you can find me at my shop, The Raven’s Craft. Milo has the address, but it’s easy to find. It’s located on Fremont Street almost across from The Golden Nugget. I usually arrive between five and six and stay quite late, depending on business.” She made a funny face at Nicholas, but he still only had eyes for the light fixture.
Emma walked over to the wall next to the counter and flicked a light switch. Instantly the light overhead went out. She watched the baby, expecting him to lose interest in the now dark fixture. He didn’t.
Dolly bounced the baby. “I’ve tried that many times. It doesn’t matter if it’s on or not.”
“And he stares at it all the time?” Emma glanced up and thought she saw a hint of sparkle in the dark orb, but it quickly disappeared.
After some thought, Dolly answered, “Not all the time, no, but most of the time. Sometimes Nicholas giggles and plays like today. Other times he just stares up at it, as if he’s waiting for something.”
Emma turned to retrieve her purse from a nearby chair where she’d left it.
“Did Nemo’s boys send you?”
She whipped around. Dolly was occupied making faces at Nicholas.
“Did you say something?” she asked Dolly.
“I was just telling my little man here I had some yummy strained peaches for him. He loves peaches.”
“You didn’t say anything about Nemo?”
“Nemo?” Dolly stopped playing with Nicholas. “Where did you hear that?”
“Just now. I thought I heard you say something to me about Nemo.”
“No.” Dolly shook her head back and forth with quick jerks. “I didn’t. You must have heard me say num num num.” She looked the baby in the face and repeated the words. He giggled.
Emma would have bought the explanation, except for catching Dolly giving Lenny the Light Bulb a furtive glance.
Dummy of a Ghost (Novella) (Ghost of Granny Apples) Page 10