The Ghost and the Baby

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “That’s okay, Adam. It all worked out.” Danielle then went on to tell him what she and Walt wanted to do with the property.

  When Danielle was finished, Adam said, “The way the codes are in this town, you’re not going to need a business license for what you want to do. Especially if you aren’t taking any money.”

  “That’s what we figured.”

  “I don’t imagine your neighbor will be thrilled, but I don’t see how she can do anything,” Adam said.

  “I don’t know what her problem is. She’s a nasty woman. According to the chief, that house has been in her family for years.”

  “I know, I was surprised when I heard it sold. Never went on the market. Then I found out she bought it from some cousins.”

  “Do you know who they are?” Danielle asked. “The chief said one of her relatives still lives in Frederickport, but he didn’t know who it is.”

  “No, sorry. Why?”

  “Just curious. But I think it might be the owners of Morton Funeral Home.”

  “Now that you mention it, I do remember Grandma saying that house was once owned by the Morton family. Didn’t know it was still in the family, but it’s entirely possible. Look at my grandmother. She hadn’t lived in the Beach Drive house since she was a baby, but she owned that house most of her life.”

  “What do you know about the Mortons?” Danielle asked. “I thought if I knew more about them, I might be able to understand why Pearl Huckabee is such a bitter old woman.”

  “It’s too bad Grandma isn’t here anymore. She could have told you a lot. I remember her mentioning the family a few times. There was a bit of a scandal.”

  “Scandal?” Danielle asked.

  “Yeah. There were two sisters—twins. Grandma went to school with them. They were a couple of years older than her. I guess one of the sisters ran off with her twin’s fiancé.”

  “That’s rude.”

  Adam chuckled. “It was. Grandma thought it was done for spite. The one who ran off with her sister’s boyfriend had been disinherited by their father. And since she couldn’t get any of the family money, she helped herself to her sister’s boyfriend. At least, that’s how Grandma told the story.”

  “I wonder if they ever made up?” Danielle asked.

  “Not sure. From how Grandma told it, the jilted sister stayed in Frederickport and ran the funeral home. She ended up married to one of her employees. Grandma said she was pretty bitter over what her sister had done; it changed her.”

  “What happened to the sister who ran off with the fiancé?”

  “They seemed to have a more exciting life. It didn’t look like the lack of inheritance bothered her much. She traveled all over the world. The sister of one of my grandmother’s friends had been a close friend of the twin who ran away, and she’d get letters periodically from her—from Paris, Greece, Italy. I don’t think she ever returned to Frederickport.”

  “If Pearl is related to the Morton family, then it must be through the jilted twin. And if she was that bitter, I suppose it is entirely possible she passed some of that bitterness down to her children or grandchildren.”

  Adam grinned. “Is bitterness an inheritable trait?”

  Danielle shrugged. “Maybe not by DNA, but by how one’s raised.”

  “Was that Danielle who just drove away?” Melony asked when she walked into Adam’s office not long after Danielle left.

  Adam, who was still sitting behind his desk, held up the candy Danielle had dropped off. “Yes. And she brought me chocolate macadamia nuts.”

  “Oh, I love those,” Melony said, reaching for the box of chocolates.

  Adam snatched them out of her reach. “Mine. You go get your own. In fact, I think she said something about having a box for you too.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” Melony said, successfully grabbing the box from Adam’s clutch. He frowned but didn’t try to take them back.

  Melony sat down in a chair, the box in her hand. She looked over at Adam and asked in a less aggressive tone, “Can I?”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you can open them.”

  Melony grinned and started to open the box. “I promise if Danielle gives me some, I will share. Did they have fun in Hawaii?” With the box now open, she stood back up and held it out to Adam. He took a piece. She took one too and sat back down in her chair.

  “Sounded like it. She seems in a good place. I think marriage agrees with her.”

  After taking a nibble of her piece of candy, Melony asked, “So you’ve come to terms with Walt?”

  Adam shrugged. “He’s an alright guy. And she definitely seems happy.”

  “With Lily pregnant, I wonder if Danielle is going to get pregnant soon.” Melony popped the rest of the piece of candy in her mouth.

  “I don’t know why that would matter.”

  “They are best friends. Sometimes girlfriends like to plan having kids at the same time. Unless I’m the girlfriend.” Melony took another piece of candy and then set the box on Adam’s desk.

  “That’s just because you don’t want kids,” Adam teased.

  “True. But neither do you,” Melony countered.

  “What do you mean you don’t want kids?” Marie gasped. She had just popped into the office moments earlier, just in time to hear Melony and Adam announce that neither one of them wanted children.

  Six

  After Danielle left Pearl’s house that morning, Craig Simmons introduced himself to Danielle’s neighbor. Pearl had called him the day before, requesting he come over to give her a bid on some work. She stepped out onto the front porch and began telling him what she needed done in the front yard. He busily jotted down notes on a pad of paper as he listened to her instructions.

  “I think that covers everything I want done in the front yard. Now, let me take you to the backyard,” Pearl told him.

  “What about that tree?” He pointed to a large tree in the front of the property not far from the sidewalk.

  “What about it?”

  “You should consider having it trimmed. That one branch could come down in a good wind.”

  “I don’t want to deal with the trees yet. I’m sure it will be fine for another year. I need to get the rest of the yard finished first. I’m not made of money. That branch has been there for as long as I can remember; I’m sure it will be fine for a couple more years.”

  “Okay. But you might want to think about it.” He then shook the pen in his hand. “My pen died. Let me grab another one from my truck.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you around back,” she told him.

  As Craig went to his truck, Pearl headed for the backyard, walking along the wrought-iron fencing separating her property from Marlow House. Just as she stepped behind some bushes, blocking her view of the street, she spied motion in the tree along the property line. The tree itself was on Marlow property, but one of its branches arched onto her side of the property line, and sitting on the branch looking down at her was the Marlows’ black cat.

  Pearl glared up at him. “You sneaky little animal.” On impulse Pearl leaned down and snatched up a large rock from the ground. She then hurled it at the cat. Pearl had played softball most of her life, quitting about ten years earlier. However, she still had a good arm and was capable of hitting any target if she set her mind to it.

  It happened so fast she would later question what she had actually witnessed. Her aim had been perfect. Unless the cat moved at the last second, the rock should have hit square between his eyes, and considering the size of the rock and the velocity, it could have killed him. Yet just before the rock hit its target, it reacted like a boomerang, changing course, heading back in her direction. Frozen from shock, Pearl didn’t have time to duck to avoid the incoming missile, but once again it changed course, this time veering off several inches to one side, whizzing by her head, brushing the tip of her ear.

  The cat did not budge from his perch and continued to stare down at her. Nearby rustling caught her attent
ion, and her gaze moved from the cat toward the neighbor’s yard. She found herself staring into the intense blue eyes of Walt Marlow. He stood several feet from the tree, watching her, his face expressionless. She knew he had seen what she had tried to do. For a fleeting moment she imagined Walt Marlow had somehow caused the rock to change course and almost hit her. That, of course, she told herself, was a ludicrous thought. The only reasonable explanation, the rock must have hit somewhere on the tree and then ricocheted back in her direction.

  “Okay, I’m ready, Mrs. Huckabee. What do you need done back here?” Craig said the next moment as he came walking down the side of the yard from the front.

  “Umm…come, I’ll show you,” Pearl said hastily, turning from Walt.

  Walt stood in the side yard of Marlow House and watched as Pearl led Craig to the back of her property. He shook his head in disgust and then walked to the tree and put out his arms to Max. The cat looked down at him and then leapt into Walt’s outstretched arms.

  “When are you going to listen to me?” Walt asked as he cradled the cat.

  Nuzzling Walt’s hand, Max began to purr.

  “Stop trying to change the subject,” Walt told him.

  Max stopped purring. He looked up in Walt’s eyes and meowed. Leaning over, Walt set the cat on the lawn and released him. Max looked up to him and blinked.

  “Why didn’t I hit her with the rock? I’m not going to hit women with rocks.”

  Max blinked again, his attention fully on Walt, who stood over him.

  “Yes, I know she almost hit you. If it hadn’t been for me, she would have knocked you out of that tree and over to Marie’s side.”

  Max meowed.

  “You need to stop pushing it, Max.”

  Walt turned from the cat and headed to the back of the property, near the garage.

  Max trailed alongside Walt and meowed.

  Still walking, Walt glanced down at the cat and silently conveyed, I think I will do a little eavesdropping. See what our neighbor has planned for her yard. Lingering by the woodpile at the side of the garage, Walt straightened the firewood while listening to what was being said next door.

  Pearl pointed to an area near the back fence. “I’d like to have the lawn removed. It’s scraggly anyway. I would like to have a sitting area put in. Maybe a patio made from pavers. Do you do that sort of thing?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “And over there…” She pointed to the two rows of rosebushes along the north fence, bordering the Marlow property line. “I don’t want you to touch that. None of that area.”

  “Are you sure? Those bushes look dead. I could take them out for you and plant something else.”

  “No. Absolutely not. They were my grandmother’s prize roses. I’m going to bring them back to life.”

  Craig frowned at the scraggly rosebushes, woody and dried looking without a single bud. “They’re going to need resuscitating,” he muttered under his breath.

  Walt, who was still standing by the woodpile in his yard, glanced over to his neighbor’s yard. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen flowers on those plants. Shaking his head, he made his way to the front of his property, Max trailing behind him like a dog.

  Craig walked over to one of the rosebushes and knelt down. He gently wiggled one of its branches. It snapped off. He looked up at Pearl. “Mrs. Huckabee, I hate to tell you this, but these rosebushes are dead. I could always replace them with new ones if you have your heart set on roses.”

  She shook her head adamantly. “No. I’m afraid I can’t have you do that. They were my grandmother’s prize roses. When we were little, she always told us they were never to be removed. She made all us grandchildren promise to never disturb this area of the yard. She was so proud of those roses.”

  “But they’re dead,” he reiterated.

  “They aren’t dead. They’re just dormant.”

  Walt had been in the house just a few minutes when the doorbell rang. When he answered the door, it was Bill Jones, handyman and friend of Adam Nichols. Wearing worn denim jeans, a blue work shirt and a black baseball cap, Bill carried a clipboard in his hand.

  “Mr. Jones,” Walt greeted him, opening the door wider.

  “Hi. Danielle called, said she had some fencing she needed repaired,” Bill told him.

  “Yes, in the side yard. I’ll show you.”

  By the time Walt and Bill got to the side yard, Craig Simmons had just gone into the house next door with Pearl.

  Bill nodded toward Pearl’s house. “I see you have a new neighbor.”

  “Yes. Not the most friendly of neighbors.”

  “I used to do some work for the last owners. Peculiar bunch.”

  “Really? I didn’t know Adam was the manager of that property.”

  Bill shook his head. “He wasn’t. I do side jobs for people who aren’t in his rental program—like Marlow House.”

  Walt nodded. “Of course.” Walt glanced over to Pearl’s house. “I understand the new owner is related to the previous owner. Why do you say they are a peculiar bunch?”

  Bill shrugged. “I know the house was passed down in the family a couple of generations. Last owners were cousins who had inherited the property from their parents. Didn’t get along very well. I can only recall a few times they even used the house. But they’d have me maintain the yard. Last time I was over here, there were a bunch of dead rosebushes in the backyard, and I offered to take them out. But they wouldn’t let me touch them.”

  “They’re still there,” Walt told him.

  “Maybe the new owner will take them out,” Bill suggested.

  “Doesn’t sound that way. She seems pretty sentimental about them.”

  Bill rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the previous owners were too. So, where is that fence you want me to fix?”

  Walt took Bill over to the section of the fence where Pearl had climbed through the day before.

  “You think you can fix it?” Walt asked after Bill inspected the section.

  “Sure. I can do it.” Bill glanced down at the damaged piece. “Looks like someone’s been going through that opening.” He pointed to the ground. “You can see where the broken piece has been dragged, and there’s a footprint.”

  “Which is why we want to have it repaired.”

  Bill glanced over to Pearl’s house. “You think the new neighbor went through there?”

  Walt shrugged. “Someone did. What do you think it will cost to repair?”

  Bill threw out a price.

  “When can you start?” Walt asked.

  “I can start now. I need to get some measurements first. But I should be able to get it fixed by tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I guess now that you’re married to Danielle, you can authorize this?” Bill asked.

  Walt flashed Bill a smile. “Yes. But if you would feel better calling Danielle first, you can reach her on her cellphone.”

  Bill shrugged. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ll take your word for it. I’ll go measure it now.”

  Pearl walked Craig Simmons back outside and said goodbye to him, while he promised to get her an estimate the next day. As he made his way down the walkway to the street, she spied movement by the fencing between her house and Marlow House. Looking that way, she noticed someone crouched by the fence. It looked as if he was peering into her yard. It wasn’t Walt Marlow. It was another man wearing a black baseball cap and blue shirt. Reaching her hand in her pocket, she felt for her cellphone.

  Glancing toward the street, she saw Craig wasn’t to the sidewalk yet. If she had a problem with this man, she was sure she could call for help and Craig could get to her. With narrowed eyes she stomped over to the man crouching by the fence.

  “What are you doing there?” she demanded.

  He looked up at her. “I’m going to fix this fence after I see what I need. Looks like someone has been crawling through this opening.”

  “It’s probably that menacing cat of theirs! It’
s always in my yard!”

  “I don’t think cats wear shoes,” Bill said, pointing to the footprint in the dried mud. He then glanced at Pearl’s shoes. “Looks like your size.”

  She scowled at him and then turned abruptly, hurrying back to her house.

  Seven

  The next stop on Danielle’s list was the Glandon Foundation Headquarters, to say hello to Chris and Heather and bring them each a box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts from Hawaii. When she pulled up in front of the building and parked, she noticed several trucks parked out front—one from a local electrician and another from a local contractor. As she got out of her car, she wondered what they were doing here.

  Wearing skinny jeans, knee-high boots, a beige knit cowl-neck sweater, its hem falling at her hips, with two boxes of candy under one arm and a purse draped over the opposite shoulder, Danielle opened the front gate and started up the walkway. She was greeted by Chris’s pit bull, Hunny, who came darting out from the side of the building, tail wagging, excited to see her.

  “Hey, Hunny,” Danielle cooed, pausing a moment to say hello. She leaned down to pet the dog and was greeted by sloppy kisses as Hunny jumped up and down.

  “She’s totally out of control,” came a woman’s voice from the front porch. Danielle glanced up from the excited dog and spied Heather standing in the now open front doorway.

  Heather Donovan lived two doors down from Marlow House, on the other side of Pearl Huckabee. She worked for Chris Glandon, aka Chris Johnson, and like Chris, Danielle and Walt, she could see ghosts. On first impression people often classified Heather as Goth, which Heather thought a ridiculous assumption. Just because she wore her long jet-black hair straight, often pulled into braids or pigtails, with straight-cut bangs falling along her eyebrows, and she preferred black nail polish and lipstick, there was no reason to imagine she liked sleeping in coffins. Heather had no idea if Goths actually slept in coffins, that was just what she imagined. And to her coffins meant dead people, and she saw enough of those without inviting them into her bed.