“Bill’s in Portland for the next couple of days,” Adam began.
Lily groaned. “Then no way he can get it done before my folks get back.”
“Sure he can. When he returns, he had some things he was going to do for me, but I can push that back, and he can do your nursery instead. One room should only take him a day.”
“You would let him put off the work you need?” Lily perked up.
“Sure. When he returns from Portland, I’ll have him stop by and look at the room so he can give you a bid and see if he needs to get anything,” Adam told her.
“Hmmm…okay. That could work. Have him call me before he wants to come over. I’m staying at Marlow House until Ian gets back from California.”
“When’s he coming back?” Adam asked.
“We’re babysitting,” Danielle said with a grin.
Lily glanced at Danielle. “Funny.” She looked back to Adam and said, “Not until next week. The day before my parents get here.”
“Was Marie in Adam’s office?” Lily asked Danielle as they drove down the street to the museum.
“Yes. How did you know?” Danielle asked.
“I just figured. His ear looked red, like it really was pinched.” Lily chuckled.
“Marie was annoyed with his crack, wow, you are pregnant.”
“That’s sort of what I figured. I do love Marie.”
“Me too.” Danielle pulled the car into the parking lot of the museum.
“You are a sport,” Lily said.
Danielle parked the car and turned off the ignition. She looked at Lily and asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Considering all that nonsense the historical society pulled a while back, for you to agree to help with this exhibit.”
“They’ve all apologized. Sort of. And Ben did leave me the Packard, so holding a grudge would seem petty. But mostly, it’s for the community, not them.” Danielle started to open the car door but paused a moment and looked back at Lily. “By the way, while we’re at the museum, would you mind if we stop at the newspaper exhibit?”
“I don’t care. What do you want to look up?” Lily asked.
“I know the chief and his people have searched through the records, looking for who those remains might have belonged to. I’d just like to look through the newspapers and see if I can find anything.”
“Danielle, that’s a lot of newspapers to look through.”
“I just want to look around the time Mr. Morton died, up until Pearl’s grandmother bought the house.”
“What are you hoping to find?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t help but wonder if whatever happened to those poor people might have something to do with Mr. Morton’s death.”
“Why would you think that?” Lily asked.
“I don’t know. It’s something that keeps nagging at me. But if you don’t want to hang around at the museum while I look, I can do it another time.”
“Nah, I don’t have a problem sticking around. I enjoy looking through those old newspapers.”
A few minutes later Danielle walked with Lily into the museum and was greeted by Millie Samson.
“Oh, Lily, you look radiant,” Millie told her. “How are you feeling?”
“Other than the heartburn, pretty good, I suppose.”
“When is the baby due?” Millie asked.
“September 25,” Lily told her.
“Really?” Millie looked Lily up and down. “By the looks of you, I would have thought that baby was about to come any time now. Are you sure you aren’t having twins?”
“Where is Marie when you need her?” Lily muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?” Millie frowned.
Lily smiled sweetly. “Nothing.”
“I’m here to pick up the list of businesses you want me to visit,” Danielle interrupted.
Millie turned her attention to Danielle. “Oh yes. I do thank you for doing this for us.”
“What exactly is this new exhibit?” Lily asked.
“It’s on the local businesses, the ones who have been in the same family for a couple of generations,” Millie explained. “I’ll go get you that list.”
The telephone in the gift shop rang. “I need to answer that first,” Millie told them.
“No problem. Lily and I are going to go look at the newspaper exhibit. We’ll be in there,” Danielle told her.
Danielle and Lily sat together at the newspaper exhibit table, each looking at a large book containing back issues of the local newspaper. They had been silently thumbing through the papers for about fifteen minutes.
“Find anything interesting?” Lily asked, looking up from what she had been reading.
“I found something sad,” Danielle said. “Nothing to do with our mystery bodies. It’s an article on the suicide of Millie’s brother in-law, Lewis.”
Lily glanced to the doorway leading to where Millie was, and then back to Danielle. “The one who killed himself over Daisy marrying another man?”
“Yeah.” Danielle continued to read to herself. “This is kind of interesting,” she muttered, and then looked up at Lily.
“What?”
“I think Leo Bateman was the name of Faye’s husband.”
Lily frowned. “So?”
“According to this article, the witness who saw Lewis drive off Pilgrim’s Point was Leo Bateman, a mortician from Portland. Odd coincidence. He ends up marrying the jilted sister after witnessing the man who was brokenhearted kill himself over the other sister.”
“Are you sure it’s the same person? From what I remember, the man Faye married was already working for her when Daisy and Kenneth took off, months after Mr. Morton died,” Lily reminded her.
Before Danielle could answer, Millie brought her the list of businesses she had been waiting for.
“Here it is,” Millie said, handing her a manila folder. “Everything is in here.”
Danielle accepted the folder and asked, “Millie, I came across an article on your brother-in-law’s death.”
“Such a sad thing. But like I said, I never really knew him. It was before I was even dating my husband.”
“In the article it said the witness who saw him drive off Pilgrim’s Point was Leo Bateman,” Danielle began.
Millie nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Norman’s father, from the funeral home. He’s one of the businesses for you to visit for the exhibit.”
“According to the article, Norman’s father was working in Portland at the time of your brother-in-law’s suicide. But someone said he started working for the Morton Funeral Home right after Mr. Morton’s death. So I would assume he wasn’t working in Portland at the time of the suicide, like the newspaper said.”
Millie shook her head. “No. Leo had worked for Morton Funeral home before Mr. Morton’s death. But he had left to take another job in Portland. The man who had been hired to take his place took over as funeral director after Mr. Morton’s death but he didn’t work out. That’s why Leo happened to be in Frederickport that day. Maisy was interviewing him to replace the director at the time.”
Thirty-Four
The next morning Lily, Walt and Danielle sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast, while Sadie and Max were in the side yard enjoying the sunshine. Danielle reread the list Millie had given her while nibbling on a piece of toast.
“How exactly is this exhibit for the museum a fundraiser?” Lily asked.
Danielle glanced up to Lily from the paper, looking at her from across the table. “It’s actually a special exhibit, so it will only be up for one month.”
“That way they can do it again next year and make more money,” Walt snickered.
Lily glanced from Danielle to Walt, back to Danielle. “And how do they make money from it?”
“Each applicable Frederickport business will have a section in the exhibit. If they make a donation, the Glandon Foundation will double it. So a business doesn’t have to donate anything, but with Chris doubling
the donation, it gives them an incentive. Marlow House gets an honorary spot, because they see Marlow House as technically being in the same family, since I married Walt. More honorary, because we are no longer a licensed business.”
“Plus, Danielle agreed to talk to all the applicable businesses about the exhibit,” Walt added.
“Walt and I have to pitch the idea to them,” Danielle said with a grin.
“Somehow I got roped into this project,” Walt said before sipping his coffee.
“So who are you going to see first?” Lily asked.
“The nursery. I need to pick up some potting soil anyway. We’re going in a couple of hours; you want to go with us?” Danielle asked.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I think I’ll just hang around here and read. Maybe take a nap. That’s all I want to do these days—sleep.” Lily yawned.
“Then sleep. In two months, sleep might be a precious commodity for you,” Danielle said.
Marie stood alone in what had once been her bedroom some ninety years earlier. While she couldn’t remember actually living in the house, she was familiar with the property, considering she had owned it all those years until she had sold it to Lily and Ian shortly before her death.
A ghost—an image of a woman in her early eighties (she had actually been older at the time of death, but Marie opted to shave a few years off her appearance, yet not enough that those who could see her and she cared about would not recognize her)—stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips, taking inventory.
As Lily had mentioned in Adam’s office, cans of fresh paint sat on the floor. By her estimation it would be more than was needed to paint the room, yet more was better than not enough. Also stacked in the corner were paintbrushes, a roller, roller pan, and an assortment of other items needed to complete the painting project, including drop cloths to protect the floor.
Marie wanted desperately to get something for the baby, but she had learned with her passing, you really can’t take it with you. She no longer had money. Of course, considering the energy she had managed to harness, it would be possible for her to lift any baby gift she wanted without getting arrested. However, once she decided to pass over to the other side, she imagined there might be hell to pay—literally.
While she didn’t have money to buy Lily and Ian a gift for the new baby, she realized she could paint the nursery. Marie smiled at the idea. At the time of her death she had been in no shape for such a project. But now, without her earthly constraints and with her newly harnessed energy, she had no doubt she could complete the project—and do a far better job than Bill.
“I have a room to paint!” Marie said cheerfully, willing the drop cloths to float up from the corner and unfold.
Toynette stood behind the sales counter at her nursery, thumbing through the family album she had brought to work to show Danielle. Millie Samson had called her the night before, telling her about the museum project and that Danielle would be stopping by to see her sometime this week. She had just opened the store ten minutes earlier and hadn’t had any customers yet.
A moment later the front door to the store opened, ringing the bell. Toynette glanced up to see Danielle walk in with a man. She had never met him before, but she immediately knew who he was: Walt Marlow. She found it breathtaking how much he looked like the man in the portrait on display at the museum—the other Walt Marlow.
She had heard around town how he had his own distinct style. Some even suggested he dressed for the part of a 1920s author—his crisply pleated slacks, collared shirt, with its long sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a fedora hat sitting at a cocky angle atop what looked like a thick head of dark hair. His manner of dress was strikingly different from the men his age who typically came into her nursery. While his clothing was hardly casual by comparison, he appeared quite comfortable and natural with his style, in some ways more so than her customers dressed in denims and T-shirts. While they had never met, she had seen him around town driving the Packard Ben Smith had left Danielle in his will—and some said had once belonged to the original Walt Marlow.
It all comes full circle, Toynette thought to herself before saying, “Morning, Danielle. I assume this is the infamous Walt Marlow?”
“Guilty as charged,” Walt said with a smile, glancing around the front of the store.
“Morning, Toynette. Yes, this is my husband, Walt.”
“I assume you’re here about the museum exhibit?” Toynette asked.
Danielle arched her brows. “You know about that?”
“I spoke to Millie last night. She told me about it and that you might be by.”
“I guess that means I don’t have to give you my sales pitch. Does it also mean you want to participate?” Danielle asked.
“I would love to. In fact, I pulled out an old photo album. Millie suggested I show it to you, and maybe it will help us decide what I should get together for the exhibit.”
Walt eyed the album sitting on the counter. “I love looking at old photo albums.”
Toynette perked up. “You do?”
He nodded, hesitantly reaching for the album. “Especially anything on this area.”
Toynette smiled broadly and slid the album closer to Walt for him to look at. “My grandparents emigrated from Norway. They started this nursery.”
Walt turned the album around so it was right side up for him to view. With Danielle close at his side, looking over his shoulder, he opened the book to the first page.
“That’s a photograph of a painting of my grandparents. The ones who started the nursery. The original is hanging at home. I didn’t know if the museum would want to display the actual painting or a smaller photograph of it.” The photograph showed a blond, blue-eyed couple who appeared to be in their thirties.
“I think it will depend on how much space the museum intends to allot for each exhibit,” Danielle said as Walt turned the page.
Toynette pointed at the lone photograph of a young blue-eyed blond woman. “That’s my mom.”
“She was gorgeous,” Danielle murmured.
“She took over the nursery after my grandparents retired. She wanted to be a teacher, but after my uncle left Frederickport, she ended up running the nursery.”
Danielle glanced up to Toynette. “Did your uncle Kenneth work in the nursery?”
“Before the war he always worked here with his parents. It was one of the reasons Mom was so surprised when he left like that.”
“How so?” Danielle asked.
“She always expected him to take the business over someday. He always talked about it. He enjoyed working outdoors, with plants. And he knew his plants—he could name every one, knew what grew in the area, what wouldn’t. But I guess he found something else he liked better.” Toynette shrugged.
Walt turned the page. Once again, there was just one large photograph. This time, it was a painting of a man’s portrait. He had dark hair, large brown eyes, a dark complexion and a mischievous grin.
“Oh, who is this? He’s quite handsome,” Danielle said.
“That’s Uncle Kenneth. Looking at that picture, I suppose I can understand why Daisy Morton stole him away from her sister.”
“But he has brown eyes,” Danielle blurted without thought. She instantly regretted her outburst and felt her face growing warm.
Toynette laughed. “That’s because he was Italian.”
Danielle frowned. “Italian?”
Toynette nodded. “Uncle Kenneth was adopted. My grandparents got him when he was about two, from an orphanage back east. At the time, my grandmother didn’t think they could have children. But later, my mother surprised them.”
“I had no idea,” Danielle said.
Toynette shrugged. “If you take another look at my grandfather’s photograph, you’ll see Kenneth actually looks a lot like him. It’s uncanny. No blood relation, but they look remarkably alike. When my grandparents settled in Frederickport and opened the nursery, Mom said people would comment on how ta
n Kenneth was from working outside with his father all the time. They didn’t realize he was adopted, and my grandparents didn’t broadcast it.”
“I suppose that was before most people realized two blue-eyed people can only have a blue-eyed child,” Danielle said.
“Unless, of course, the husband is not the father,” Toynette said with a mischievous grin. “Fortunately, Kenneth looked like my grandfather’s mini—aside from the coloring.”
Walt turned the page again. Instead of one photograph, the page was filled with snapshots of Kenneth in his uniform, standing with his parents and sister.
“That was right before he left for overseas,” Toynette explained.
“He came back a war hero, didn’t he?” Danielle asked.
Toynette nodded. “Yes. He lost part of his right leg.”
Thirty minutes later Walt and Danielle sat in the Packard in the nursery parking lot, preparing to leave. Noticing Danielle had grown uncharacteristically quiet while talking with Toynette, Walt turned to look at his wife.
“What is it, Danielle?”
Sitting in the passenger seat, she looked to Walt. “I know who was buried in Pearl’s backyard.”
“Who?” Walt frowned.
“Daisy Morton and Kenneth Bakken.”
“Daisy Morton and Kenneth Bakken?” the chief repeated forty minutes later. He sat in his office with Walt and Danielle and had just finished listening to who Danielle believed had been buried next door to Marlow House.
The chief leaned back casually in his chair, eyeing Danielle curiously. “How do you figure that?”
“You initially discounted the possibility it was Kenneth because we all assumed he was Norwegian, with blue eyes. But Kenneth had brown eyes and was Italian, just like the man whose remains you had tested. And tell me, which leg had a part of it missing—the right or left?”
The chief furrowed his brow and sat up in his chair, placing his elbows on his desktop. His gaze met Danielle’s. “The right.”
The Ghost and the Baby Page 22