The Ghost and the Baby

by Anna J. McIntyre

  With a chuckle, Lily grabbed hold of Ian’s right hand and gave it a tug. “I’ll explain in the car. We need to go.”

  Walt’s words must have soothed Sadie’s concerns, for in the next moment the dog let out a bark and began wagging her tail.

  On Friday Joanne had changed all the bed linens at Marlow House and had put out fresh towels. In spite of the fact the bed and breakfast had closed, she still came over several times each week, so minimal cleaning was required before the guests started arriving. She planned to come over on Saturday afternoon to help with dinner and prep the food they planned to serve on Easter Sunday.

  It was Saturday afternoon, but Joanne had not yet arrived, nor had any of the guests. Walt and Danielle sat in the living room. Sadie napped on the floor by Walt’s feet while Max found a quiet corner behind the curtains to snooze.

  “Did I miss saying goodbye to Ian and Lily?” Marie asked as she popped into the living room. Sadie lifted her head sleepily and gave Marie a brief woof before resuming her nap.

  Danielle wasn’t sure how Marie had intended to tell them goodbye, since neither Ian nor Lily could see or hear her. But she reserved comment and instead said, “They left early this morning.”

  “Have any of your guests arrived?” Marie asked.

  “Not yet.” Danielle glanced at her watch.

  “So how did the raffle do? Did they sell a lot of tickets?” Marie asked.

  “It did extremely well,” Danielle told her. “Especially considering it was all pretty rushed. I was afraid it would be difficult to sell tickets because once they announced the winners, they didn’t have a lot of time to make travel plans—or even get the time off from work. But they made more than ten thousand dollars. Actually twice that, since the Glandon Foundation matched whatever they raised.”

  “That much?” Marie asked.

  “Yep. Just in ticket sales it was double what I would have made on those rooms if I had simply rented them out.”

  “How much did they sell the tickets for?” Marie asked.

  “Twenty bucks each,” Danielle told her.

  Marie arched her brows. “People were willing to pay that much for a chance to stay here?”

  “While it would be flattering to imagine Marlow House was such a coveted prize, I suspect most people who bought a ticket were thinking more about supporting the high school art department,” Walt interjected.

  “Chris told me he talked a Portland radio station into buying a hundred tickets, which they gave out as prizes on their radio show. In fact, one of the winners came from those tickets. A couple from Portland.”

  “Excellent!” Marie smiled.

  “Oh, and you’ll never guess who one of the winners was,” Danielle said.

  “Who?”

  “Faye Bateman…or as she was known when she lived next door, Maisy Faye Morton,” Danielle told her.

  “Faye Bateman bought a raffle ticket?” Marie asked in surprised.

  “Her son did. Apparently he bought several from Heather. Heather said he only bought them to be nice and never expected to win. But when he did, he gave it to his mother. She’s never been in Marlow House and has always wanted to see it.”

  “That’s not true. She was here once,” Walt interjected.

  Danielle looked to Walt. “When?”

  “Not long after the twins were born. Her father hired a nanny, and the woman had some problem and stopped by here asking for help. She had the babies with her. I remember she had them in the same carriage. They were such little things. I don’t think it was long after they were born.”

  “I seriously doubt she remembers that time,” Danielle said with a chuckle.

  “I imagine you’re right.” Walt grinned.

  The doorbell rang and the next moment Sadie jumped up, prepared to bark. Walt quickly put a stop to that, and Sadie reluctantly lay back down on the floor, letting out a little grunt as she did.

  Several minutes later Danielle opened the front door to her first raffle guest, Faye Bateman. The elderly woman wore a long velvet jacket over a floor-length dress. The formal attire reminded Danielle of what might have once been considered standard apparel for any properly brought up woman from local society’s upper station. She wore an emerald green velvet pillbox hat atop her platinum blond hair, and by her side was her son, Norman, a suitcase in his hand.

  “Welcome,” Danielle greeted them, opening the door wider. She glanced over their shoulders and noticed the dark clouds rolling in.

  “Danielle, I would like you to meet my mother, Faye Bateman. Mother, this is Danielle Marlow, your hostess for the week.”

  “I am so happy to meet you,” Danielle told Faye as the elderly woman stepped into the entry.

  “I imagine you think I’m a silly old woman to be staying here when I have a house on the other side of town.”

  “Certainly not,” Danielle insisted.

  Faye looked around the enormous dark-paneled entry, taking in the sight. “But I have always wanted to see inside Marlow House.”

  “I’m very glad you came. I’m putting you in the downstairs bedroom. I hope you don’t mind. But then you don’t have to worry about the stairs—and it does have its own private bathroom, unlike the rooms upstairs.”

  “That’s fine. I just hope you’ll take me on a tour of the house—I want to see everything. Even upstairs.”

  Fifteen minutes later Faye’s suitcase was deposited in her room, her son had said his goodbyes, and she was in the living room being introduced to Walt.

  “You are the author?” Faye asked, taking Walt’s hand in hers and giving it a pat.

  “Oh my, she looks so old,” Marie muttered from the sidelines.

  Danielle flashed Marie a harsh look.

  “Well, she does,” Marie said unapologetically.

  “You’ve heard of me?” Walt asked.

  “I’ve not just heard of you, I read your book. And loved it.”

  “That’s not all she loves,” Marie grumbled. “I don’t think she’s going to give Walt his hand back.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Walt told her.

  “And you do look like him. I heard you did,” Faye told him.

  “I assume you’re talking of the original Walt Marlow? My distant cousin?” Walt asked, leading her to a chair so she could sit down.

  “I saw the portraits at the museum. Of course, over the years I saw photographs of him, but the portrait is quite magnificent,” Faye said.

  “I’ll go get us some tea,” Danielle announced.

  Walt flashed her a smile, but Faye’s eyes never left Walt.

  “I do believe Maisy Faye is smitten with our Walt,” Marie told Danielle.

  Danielle resisted the urge to chuckle at Marie’s words and left the room to get the tea. With a shrug, Marie followed Danielle to the kitchen.

  “Did you know I used to live next door?” Faye told Walt. “I was just a baby when your cousin died. And growing up, this house was always closed up.” She glanced around the room. “But it always fascinated me. Had I been a little braver, I might have broken in to have a look. But I must admit, back then I thought the house was haunted.”

  “We only have friendly ghosts, Mrs. Bateman,” Walt assured her.

  Faye laughed. “That is good to know. But please, call me Faye.”

  “I will.” Walt flashed her a smile.

  “I saw you on an interview. Do you still have amnesia?” she asked.

  “Yes. But it’s only what happened before the accident that I don’t remember. I’m making new memories, and I’m quite happy with my life now.”

  Faye reached over and gave his hand a pat. “Trust me, when you get to be my age, you realize there are some things that happen in your life that are best forgotten. Sometimes a fresh start is a blessing.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said softly.

  “I remember you mentioning in the interview you used to go by your middle name, but after the accident you started using your first name
again,” she noted.

  Walt nodded. “Yes. When I woke up from my coma, my first name seemed more natural.”

  “I guess we have that in common—I mean going by our middle names. Faye is actually my middle name. But I don’t ever see me using my first name again.”

  “Why is that?” Walt asked.

  Faye shrugged. “It’s very old-fashioned. I just never really liked it.”

  “Can I ask what it is?” Walt already knew, but she didn’t know that.

  She looked at him a moment and finally said, “Maisy. Maisy Faye.”

  “I knew a Maisy Faye once.”

  “Did you? I can’t say I’ve ever met another Maisy, much less Maisy Faye. Who was she?”

  “Someone I knew a long time ago. I can’t remember much about her, aside from her name. That and how she looked. She was quite beautiful. Big blue eyes and blond curls. And sweet. I remember she was sweet.”

  “I suppose you can’t remember who she was because of your amnesia?” Faye asked.

  “Umm…yes. That’s correct.”

  Seventeen

  “Should I be worried about this other Maisy Faye?” Danielle teased Walt after Faye went to her room to freshen up. She had walked into the living room with the tea earlier, just in time to hear Walt’s comment.

  “Maybe, if I could actually place her,” Walt countered with a grin.

  “Come on, you remember she was sweet—her big blue eyes—and you say you can’t place her?” Danielle taunted.

  “No, I can’t. And I find it quite annoying.” His smile turned to a frown, as if he was trying to recall his memories about the other Maisy Faye. “Sometimes it feels as if I really do have amnesia.”

  Danielle reached over and patted Walt’s knee. He sat next to her on the sofa. “It’ll come back to you. You have over a century of memories to recall; it’s not surprising you’ve misplaced a few.”

  Walt’s smile returned. He grabbed hold of Danielle’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Where did Marie go?”

  “Not really sure. She said she would stop by later and check out the rest of our guests. From what I understand, she hadn’t seen Faye for years and was quite shocked at how she looks.”

  “The woman is ninety-five,” Walt reminded her.

  Danielle shrugged. “I guess the wrinkles surprised her. To me Faye looks like someone who has smoked all her life.”

  “And managed to live to ninety-five?” Walt asked. “And here I gave up my cigars.”

  Danielle arched her brow at Walt. “There is always the exception, the smoker who beats the odds. And it’s possible she was never a smoker, and she just has wrinkles. Like you said, she is ninety-five. And if she did once smoke, I don’t think she does now. I can always smell that on someone.”

  The doorbell rang. Again Sadie lifted her head from where she had been sleeping by their feet, and again Walt told her to stay. As Danielle stood up from the sofa, she glanced to the living room window. The blind was open, but little light came through the glass pane.

  “Looks like it is getting pretty dark out there,” Danielle noted.

  “The weather report did say it was going to be a big storm.”

  “Wonderful,” Danielle grumbled. “I was hoping for a week with lots of sunshine.”

  When Danielle went to answer the front door a minute later, she found two young women—teenagers—standing on the porch, each holding a suitcase. Danielle knew immediately who they were. Both were students from the local high school, sisters. The eldest sister, a senior, had recently turned eighteen and was one of the raffle winners. The girls, a pair of slender brunettes—more cute than beautiful—looked like twins. If Danielle had to guess which was the oldest, she would have a fifty-fifty chance of guessing correctly.

  “Hello. I assume you’re Brenda and Tammy Owen?” Danielle asked as she opened the door wider.

  “Yes. I’m Brenda and this is my younger sister, Tammy. Are you Danielle Marlow?”

  “I am. Please come in. Welcome to Marlow House.”

  By the time Danielle got the sisters situated in the bedroom upstairs with the twin beds, the doorbell rang again. This time Walt answered it.

  “Welcome to Marlow House,” Walt greeted after opening the front door. Standing on the porch was a thirty-something couple. They introduced themselves as Jose and Juanita Alvarez from Portland. A few minutes later Walt took them up the stairs, where they met Danielle midway. She took over for Walt, taking the Alvarezes to their room while Walt went to answer the door again.

  When Walt opened the door this time, rain was falling and a crack of lightning lit up the afternoon sky. Shivering on the porch was a lone fifty-something man, suitcase in hand. Walt hurried him into the house and took his wet overcoat, hanging it on the nearby coat rack to dry. He was just introducing himself to Walt when Joanne arrived to help prepare the evening dinner.

  It had been over two months since Marlow House had operated as a bed and breakfast. And while they were no longer open for business, they had a full house. In the kitchen Joanne prepared that night’s dinner. In the past bed and breakfast customers typically received just breakfast, yet the raffle winners would receive breakfast and dinner during their stay. Tonight it was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, homemade biscuits, green beans, asparagus, and apple pie and ice cream for dessert.

  Because of the storm—growing in intensity—Danielle insisted Joanne go home before serving dinner, not wanting her driving in the dark while the roads were so slippery and wet. Rain was not unusual for Frederickport, but it was coming down uncommonly hard, and the weather report warned of flash flooding.

  By the time Danielle set the table, Joanne had already left for home. Danielle and Walt welcomed their guests. Eight of them sat around the large dining room table, with Walt seated at the head of the table and Danielle at the end. At one time Danielle had taken her place at the head of the table, but since her marriage to Walt, she insisted he take the place of honor. In Danielle’s heart, the house—and table—had belonged to Walt long before it had ever been hers.

  Danielle handed the man to her right the platter of fried chicken and asked, “I understand you are a teacher at the high school, Mr. McGhie?”

  “Yes, I’m an English teacher. But please call me Jonah, and this looks delicious, by the way.” He helped himself to some chicken and then held the platter for Faye so she could select a piece.

  “I was in Mr. McGhie’s class last year.” Brenda spoke up. “I had no idea one of our teachers would be here!”

  “I promise there will be no pop quizzes this week,” he teased.

  Brenda giggled and then took the platter from him, passing it in front of Faye.

  “Is your wife coming later?” Tammy asked. She sat across the table from her sister, waiting for the chicken to come her way while she helped herself to some biscuits and passed them on.

  “No. It’s just going to be me this week,” he said happily. “And I imagine you will only see me during the meals.”

  “You aren’t staying?” Tammy frowned.

  “I’ll be in my room. You see, I’m working on my book.”

  “You’re an author too?” Faye asked as she added green beans to her plate. “Walt here is a very successful author.”

  “Oh, yes, I know.” Jonah blushed.

  “Not sure how successful. Let’s just say my first book was well received,” Walt said as he passed a platter of food on.

  “You came here to write?” Danielle asked.

  “I’ve been working on my book a couple of years. But it’s always difficult to find someplace quiet to work. My wife’s a teacher too, and her mother lives with us. She suggested I rent a motel for Easter week, lock myself in and write with no distractions. It sounded like a wonderful idea, but frankly, a little extravagant. But then she bought a ticket for the raffle, and to our surprise, she won. I told her we both should come, but she insisted I use this week to write, and it’s always difficult to leave her mother alone
for so long.”

  “Or you could have sent your mother-in-law here and had a romantic week at home with your wife,” Faye interjected with a laugh. “That’s what my son did. Although the truth is, I practically snatched the prize certificate out of his hand. I’ve been wanting to see inside Marlow House, and so far, it has not disappointed!”

  “I’m glad you decided to come,” Danielle told her with a smile.

  Jonah looked across the table and asked Jose, “You mentioned you’re from Portland. How did you happen to buy a ticket?”

  “They were giving away raffle tickets on a radio station I listen to. You have to call in and answer a question. I knew the answer, managed to get through, and here we are.” Jose grinned and then stabbed his pile of mashed potatoes with a fork.

  “I’m just so happy he won,” Juanita said. “It was a little tricky getting the time off work, but we did it.”

  Thunder shook the house. Everyone stopped eating and talking a moment and looked up to the ceiling.

  “That storm does not sound good,” Faye said with a shiver.

  “I’m glad we got here before the rain started,” Jose said.

  “I was planning a big Easter dinner for tomorrow and really hoped we could eat outside, but I don’t think that is going to happen,” Danielle said as she resumed eating.

  “I like the thunder and lightning. Makes this feel like a real haunted house,” Brenda said.

  “Brenda!” Tammy scolded.

  “Oh, come on, you know they all say Marlow House is haunted,” Brenda returned. “Not that I really believe in ghosts, but it does make it more fun staying here.”

  The adults laughed and Walt asked, “So tell me, were you young ladies involved in the raffle sales?”

  “Not really,” Brenda said. “But I had friends who were selling tickets. According to the rules, you had to be eighteen to be eligible to win, so they weren’t really selling to other students. I thought it would be neat to win. I knew it was a long shot, but what the heck? And look, I won!”

  “And she asked me to come with her,” Tammy said with a grin.