by SUE FINEMAN
Donovan pushed his chair back. “I’ll eat in the living room, where it’s quiet.” He picked up his plate and walked out of the kitchen. Plunkett was right about him. He was a hard-ass, and that stubborn streak could keep him and Hannah from having a happily ever after. Did it matter who paid what bill if they were married? No, but they weren’t married, and they might never be married with her so angry.
Trevor’s chicken stir-fry tasted good, but Donovan’s appetite had disappeared. He couldn’t eat when Hannah was so upset with him.
He went into the kitchen and filled a plate for Hannah. “I’ll take a plate upstairs.”
“Make her a cup of tea,” said Pop. “That’s about all she’s wanted today.”
Donovan filled the tray and carried it upstairs. Hannah was in the bathroom. When she came out, she looked pale and sick. “Hannah? Are you all right?”
“Sure. Just great.”
“I brought you some dinner.”
She held her hand over her nose and mouth. “Leave the tea and take the rest away. I can’t stand the smell. Would you send Trevor up when he finishes eating?”
Donovan wondered what Trevor could do that he couldn’t, but he didn’t ask. He took the tray down to the kitchen. “Trevor, Hannah wants to talk to you. I’ll clean up tonight.” It was Pop’s turn, but Pop didn’t say a word.
As soon as Trevor came in with another cup of tea, Hannah asked him if he’d go to the drug store for her. “I’d go myself, but I can’t get that far from the bathroom. Get one of those pregnancy test kits.”
His eyes widened. “We’re having a baby?”
“No, we’re not having a baby. I think there’s money in—”
He gave her a quick hug. “This one is on me.”
“Don’t tell Donovan,” she called when he went out the door.
Trevor was back twenty minutes later. By then, Hannah’s stomach felt a little better. He handed her the package, and she took it into the bathroom. Before long, she had her answer. She’d be delighted if things were better between her and Donovan.
Trevor brought her a zipper bag filled with crackers. “These helped my sister when she was pregnant. You are pregnant, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“Would you like me to make you some scrambled eggs and toast?”
“Okay. One egg and one piece of dry toast.” She hoped she could keep it down.
She curled on the side of the bed. Now she knew why she’d been so tired and testy lately, especially with Donovan. Would he marry her now? She knew he loved her, but she didn’t know how long it took him to get over being angry. They’d only been together four months or so, and this was their first major fight. It was too much to hope it would be the last, because they were both stubborn people.
It had better not take him long to get over it, because she had no intention of going through this pregnancy alone or being a single mother.
Donovan had left his gun on the nightstand, but she didn’t touch it. Billy knew better than to play with it, but Donovan would have to be more careful with a baby in the house.
She felt the cold and knew her grandparents were present. Instead of chasing them out of the room, she put her thick terry robe on over her sweats and stuffed her cold feet into her fuzzy slippers.
Donovan brought a tray up for her. “I made you some more tea.” He set the tray on the table beside the bed. “I’m sorry, Hannah. You gave us a chance to have a future together and I let my pride get in the way.”
“And?”
“And… what?”
“I’m waiting for a proposal.”
At first, he seemed stunned, then he grinned. “You’d marry me now, after I made such a fool of myself?”
She nibbled at a piece of toast and fought back a smile. “That’s not the right question.”
Donovan lips pulled into a smile. She was always surprising him, yet the way she felt about him was no surprise. She loved him or she wouldn’t consider marrying him. He held up one finger. “Be right back.”
He took his mother’s rings out of his dresser drawer and returned to Hannah’s room, where he dropped to one knee in front of her. He opened the little box and took out the engagement ring. “Hannah, my son loves you and my father adores you.” He smiled. “And if I mess this up, they’ll never forgive me.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Then don’t mess it up.”
He slipped the ring on her finger. “I love you, Hannah. I’ll always love you, honey, and I’ll try to be a good husband. Will you marry me?”
“No more fights about money?”
The burden and the bounty, she’d called it, only he had the burden and she had the bounty. “How about if I pay our living expenses out of my paycheck, and we’ll use Charity’s stash for retirement and a college fund for the kids?”
“Then I can stay home and take care of Billy and whoever comes along next?”
“And Pop. He’s getting up there.”
“He’s the only parent we have between us.”
“I’m sorry I behaved like a jerk.”
She leaned down to kiss him. “You only get to do that once, and you’ve already had your turn.”
He smiled to himself. Hannah wouldn’t let him get away with it again, and he had a feeling she’d be the one running the house. “I have hard-headed Irish genes.”
“I know, and I love you anyway.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, but we need to do it before I outgrow my grandmother’s wedding dress.” She gazed into his eyes. “You see, we’ve already started making whoever comes along next.”
For a second, he was too stunned to speak. “You’re pregnant?”
“I had hoped we could get married before we started a baby, but—”
“I don’t care when it comes, as long as you’re happy.”
She put her hand over her mouth. “Queasy, but happy.”
Looking closer at the ring on her finger, she said, “I can’t believe you already bought rings.”
“These were my mother’s. If you don’t like them, we’ll buy you some new ones.”
“I love them, but are you sure Pop doesn’t want to give them to Robin?”
“He wants you to have them, Hannah. Pop loves you.”
“I love him, too. It feels like I’m marrying the whole family.”
“You are. It’s a package deal.”
She nibbled at the toast again. “With me, you get Trevor.”
Donovan burst out laughing. “We’ll have to teach him to change diapers.”
This time she laughed.
Epilogue
Three months after the wedding, Hannah stretched out in a chaise on her new brick patio while Donovan turned steaks on the barbecue. Captain Rogers had been promoted to chief of police, and Donovan had the captain’s job he’d always wanted. She’d been afraid his relationship with her would hurt his career, but it hadn’t.
Tony Porcini had a massive stroke and died in April, Cordelli would stand trial in August, and Vittore had moved to Florida with his wife. The Porcini-Vittore political machine that had run River Valley for so many years was gone.
Although Hannah was only six months pregnant, she felt like a walrus. The babies were growing so fast she wasn’t sure she could make it to September. The last ultrasound showed they were both boys, but she hadn’t told Donovan yet. She knew he was hoping for a girl this time.
The new garage and the apartment over it were nearly finished, and several people had asked about renting it. The new fence was in, and Trevor would start painting the outside of the house next weekend, after he scraped off the loose paint and sanded the rough patches. He was still working at the television station and still living in the attic.
The babies’ room, Dad’s old bedroom, was ready. Almost. “Donovan, we’re going to need a crib.”
“We have one.”
“One isn’t enough.” She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and smiled.<
br />
For several seconds, he didn’t move. “Just how many babies are we having?”
“Two this time. Next time, we’ll try for three.”
Pop chuckled. He’d known for weeks they were having twins, but Hannah hadn’t told Donovan. She wanted to know the sex of the babies before she told him.
“I thought, if it’s all right with you, we could name them Charles Taylor Kane and Andrew Jefferson Kane. Charlie and Andy.”
“Boys? We’re having two boys?”
“I have a picture of the ultrasound if you’d like to see it. We’ll have girls next time.”
Donovan puffed up like a proud father, a charming father, and she knew these babies would be cherished as her father had cherished her, and as Donovan cherished Billy.
“With two babies, diaper changing could become a marathon event. It’s a good thing one of us has had some practice.”
“Two of us,” said Pop. “I changed my share with Donovan and Billy.”
The grandfather clock chimed and Trevor took the tongs from Donovan. “Uncle Trevor will watch the steaks. You’re being summoned to the living room.”
Donovan and Hannah walked inside with Pop and found the ghosts of her grandparents standing beside the clock. Grandpa pointed up, and Donovan put his arm around Hannah’s shoulders.
She was surprised they’d leave now, with the babies on the way, but she couldn’t hold them back. Charity and Andrew and Dad were waiting for them, and they knew their only living descendant would be happy here on earth.
Grandpa took Grandma’s hand. As the figures ascended, Grandpa blew a kiss and Grandma waved goodbye.
Pop lifted his hand and waved, and Hannah said, “I love you.”
“They know, honey,” Donovan said. “They know.”
One generation was gone forever and another would arrive soon. Hannah’s family had been through some tough times in this house, but future generations would grow and thrive.
And love.
In the house on Livingston Avenue.
Thank you for taking the time to read The Ghost in the Basement. Please turn the page for an excerpt of the next book in the series, The Ghost Upstairs.
THE GHOSTS UPSTAIRS
by
Sue Fineman
Chapter One
“William Goodman left his family home to you, Billy,” said Thornton Clapp, an attorney in downtown River Valley, Ohio.
“I thought my grandfather died years ago.”
The attorney nodded. “Yes, he did, but he gave a life tenancy to his wife, Eleanor Ainsworth Goodman, and she lived in the house until she passed away last month.”
So his grandmother was dead, too. He should be sad at his grandmother’s passing, but the woman was a stranger to him. He hadn’t seen her since Maggie’s funeral, when she stood in front of everyone and announced her precious daughter died from breast cancer because Dad forced her to have a baby she didn’t want. Harsh words for Maggie’s seven-year-old son to hear, although even at that young age, he knew his mother didn’t want him. She’d never wanted him.
“Eleanor’s estate is to be split between her Ainsworth cousins, but according to William Goodman’s will, the house and furnishings go to his only grandchild, William Goodman Kane. To you, Billy.” Mr. Clapp handed him a set of house keys and a card with the address of the house and the code to open the gate across the driveway. “If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Billy thanked him and shook his hand. He didn’t want the damn house, but he wouldn’t turn down the profits from a quick sale. If he could find anyone who wanted to buy a house that looked like a transplant from Transylvania.
Twenty minutes later, Billy sat in his pickup outside the black iron gate and stared at his grandfather’s monstrosity of a house. The gray stone mansion loomed before him like something out of a gothic horror movie.
He glanced at the card on the visor and then punched in the gate code and watched the gate roll back. Driving down the winding drive and around the loop, he stopped by the front door. The double front door was made of rustic wood planks bound together with heavy metal strips and square-head nails. The doors must be twenty feet tall and so wide he could drive his pickup through them. It looked more like a drawbridge than a door.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house smelled musty and stale, as if it had been closed up for months, so Billy left the door open while he checked out the house. His skin crawled just being here. Although his mother grew up in this house and his grandmother lived here since Billy could remember, he’d never been welcome in this house. Now he owned it.
The wide formal foyer was bigger than his entire apartment. It was anchored by a massive curving staircase, and huge tapestries of bloody hunting scenes hung on the walls.
Everything in the formal living room, including the light blue velvet furniture, was covered with a thick layer of dust. Pictures of his mother adorned every wall and every flat surface in the room. The young woman in the pictures was a beauty, a delicate blue-eyed blonde, but his memories of her weren’t warm or even pleasant.
Without touching anything, he wandered through the living room and into the formal dining room, then walked through a butler’s pantry and into a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a restaurant. He couldn’t remember his mother ever cooking anything, but then he couldn’t remember her ever doing anything but complaining. And shopping. Maggie loved to shop, spending money Dad didn’t have, building debt Dad couldn’t afford to pay on a cop’s salary. The whole family suffered because of those bills, but she didn’t care. Maggie had never cared about anyone but herself.
A smaller dining room and a big sunroom angled off the other side of the kitchen. A withered branch from the maple tree lay on the floor of the sun porch, and the floor was covered with mildew, broken glass, and dried leaves. He felt like walking out the front door and saying to hell with it. He didn’t have the money to renovate this place, and nobody in their right mind would buy it like it was.
Walking through another living room, this one with a television and sound system, he found himself back at the foyer. A table in the curve of the staircase held a statue of his mother. “Who else?” he muttered.
On the other side of the foyer, the library was lined with bookshelves filled with old books. The leather furniture looked well-used and comfortable. And dusty. An adjoining study was anchored by a beautiful old desk. These must have been his grandfather’s rooms. They didn’t feel as ominous as the rest of the house.
Too bad his grandfather didn’t live longer. William Goodman was the one person on this side of the family Billy would like to know.
Down a narrow hallway near the back of the house, he found the laundry and maid’s apartment. And behind the massive staircase in the entry hall, several sets of double doors led to a big, open room with a dark wood floor. A grand piano sat on a raised dais on one end of the room. French doors across the back led to a stone patio overlooking the gardens, which must have been nice at one time. In early May, the flowers should be blooming, but the grass had gone to seed and the flower beds were filled with weeds. The murky water in the fountain needed to be drained and the whole thing cleaned. The pool didn’t look much better.
Walking upstairs, his feet left prints in the dusty dark red runner. The rooms on the right looked like the master suite. A huge four-poster bed dominated the bedroom. The bed was a rumpled mess, and there were bottles of pills on the nightstand. Whoever was taking care of Eleanor Goodman had probably escaped from this house right after the old woman died.
He backed out of the room. It smelled bad, and from the stains on the bedding, he wondered if Eleanor had died in that bed. The mattress and bedding would have to be taken to the dump and the room aired out. But not today. He couldn’t deal with all this today. He felt overwhelmed at the enormity of the work that had to be done here.
The first room on the other side of the grand staircase was set up as a nursery, and there were
pictures of his mother as a baby all over the room. An adjoining room was filled with toys, as if his mother would ever play with them again. Another suite must have been his mother’s as a child. It had a frilly white bedspread on the canopy bed and stuffed toys piled on top. Every wall had pictures of her growing up. There was one of her on a pony, another on a merry-go-round, and others of her in the house, in the garden, or by the pool.
Maggie grew up in luxury, yet because of her excessive spending, Dad lost their house and Pop sold his to help Dad get the credit card bills under control. Billy and Dad and Pop lived in dumpy apartments while Dad tried to pay off the hospital bills the insurance didn’t cover. Eleanor could have helped with the bills, but she refused. She didn’t care if her only grandson lived in poverty. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself because she’d lost her precious daughter.
Billy glanced down the bedroom hallway and back at the staircase to the third level, but he didn’t want to see any more. The whole house was a shrine to his dead mother. It felt like a damn funeral parlor. He didn’t see any pictures of his grandparents anywhere. There weren’t any pictures of him either.
No surprise there.
<>
Dinner with Billy’s family was always a noisy affair, and that night was no exception. Dad helped Hannah put dinner on the table. He’d recently been appointed police chief, and Hannah took care of the house and the family. Dad’s second wife had never treated Billy like a step anything. She was more of a mom to him than Maggie had ever been.
Billy’s grandfather slid into a chair at the table. Pop turned eighty-seven last month, and although his body had slowed down, his mind was still sharp.
His three younger siblings came into the kitchen, the boys teasing their little sister about something, as usual. Fraternal twins Charlie and Andy were in high school. Charlie was into sports, girls, and trouble, not necessarily in that order. Andy spent his spare time building things in the basement workshop or playing in a garage band.
Ginny had just become a teenager last week. She was turning into a real beauty, but she was still a tomboy, always in a tree or playing football with the neighborhood boys. One of these days, those boys would figure out she was a girl and stop treating her like one of the guys. When they did, they’d better look out for Dad. Nobody messed with his little princess.