Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  “Just makes me think of all sorts of retorts about getting fresh. Which I should probably save until we know each other better.” Chris grinned.

  Danielle smiled and quickly changed the subject. “We don’t normally provide dinners, but during the Christmas holiday, your room will include breakfast and dinner. Both meals are served in the dining room, with breakfast being served from seven to nine and dinner from five to seven.”

  Chris glanced at his watch and smiled. “Looks like I have a few more minutes to make dinner.”

  “I wasn’t sure what time you were getting in—”

  “No,” Chris interrupted. “I was just teasing. I ate something in Portland. I didn’t think I’d make it here in time for dinner.”

  “Well, we do have lots of cookies in the kitchen—and homemade pumpkin bread—and if you would like a sandwich later, I have plenty of lunchmeat and slice cheese, along with some bread I picked up at the bakery.”

  “It all sounds good. Maybe you could just give me a tour for now and we can swing by the kitchen, for some of those cookies.”

  Before Danielle answered, Chris heard the front door open and then what sounded like male and female voices, followed by the barking of a dog. Just as Chris looked up to the open door leading into the foyer, Max dashed out of the room. Chris spied a golden retriever coming from the direction of the front door. The dog raced down the hall chasing the cat, and by the sound of it, the cat and dog were headed up the stairs.

  “I think a dog just got in your house and is after your cat!” Chris started for the doorway, yet paused when he heard Danielle laugh.

  “That’s just Sadie. Those two are old friends. Well, maybe not friends exactly.”

  When Chris and Danielle reached the doorway they came face to face with the man and woman attached to the voices Chris had heard moments earlier. While he had never met the pair, he instantly knew who they were: Ian Bartley, also known under the pen name Jon Altar, and Lily Miller.

  “We brought you something to eat,” Lily announced, holding up a sack for Danielle to see. Her gaze immediately went from Danielle to Chris, flashing him a friendly smile.

  If Chris wasn’t mistaken, he would swear Lily’s green eyes noticeably widened when her gaze set on him. For just a moment she stood speechless, staring. Finally, she said, “Hello, you must be the new guest. I’m Lily Miller and this is Ian Bartley. We brought enough for you too, by the way.”

  “Lily, Ian, this is Chris Johnson. He arrived a few minutes ago, I was just showing him his room.”

  “Nice to meet you Chris,” Ian said as he shook Chris’ offered hand.

  “Pleasure’s mine, I’m a fan,” Chris announced. He and Danielle now stood in the foyer with Ian and Lily. Ian raised his brow, silently asking, really?

  “It seems as if Mr. Johnson…” Danielle began.

  “No, it’s Chris, please,” Chris interrupted.

  Danielle smiled and then continued, “Seems Chris came across most of those online articles about Marlow House, which I assume includes the articles by Ian.”

  “I confess I did a little Internet stalking to find out that Jon Altar is actually a pen name for Ian Bartley,” Chris admitted.

  “I hope when you say stalking, you mean it in the most benign way,” Lily said, only half teasing. She lifted the sack back in the air again and motioned for the three to follow her to the kitchen, which they did.

  Lily paused just before she reached the kitchen door and turned to Ian. “Why don’t you take Chris into the dining room, and Dani and I’ll get some plates and bring out the food.”

  “I don’t want to take your food,” Chris said. “I had something to eat in Portland.”

  “Oh don’t be silly.” Lily grinned. “When you see what we brought, you’ll want some. Like I said, we brought plenty.”

  “Oh my god, he’s freaking gorgeous!” Lily said when she and Danielle were alone in the kitchen.

  Danielle chuckled. “Yeah, he is rather hot.”

  “Hot? Oh please, talk about the understatement of the century. Where did you find him?”

  Danielle opened an overhead cabinet and took out four plates, setting them on the counter. “I didn’t find him. He’s a guest Lily, not some guy I ordered from a dating service.”

  “Well, duhh, I know that. But dang girl, is he an actor or something? Underwear model?” Lily opened the sack and began removing the cartons of Chinese takeout.

  Danielle giggled. “Underwear model? Yeah, I could so see that. I wouldn’t mind seeing him in—”

  “Is this anyway for two young ladies to act?” Walt reprimanded when he suddenly appeared in the kitchen. “Lily should be ashamed of herself. I thought she promised her heart to Ian.”

  “Look out, Lily, Mr. Prim and Proper just popped in and does not approve.” Danielle giggled again as she opened a drawer and pulled out some silverware.

  “Walt?” Lily glanced around the room.

  “Who else?” Danielle shrugged.

  “I really don’t understand young women these days.” Walt paced the room in a fit of agitation.

  “You’re doing it again,” Danielle reminded.

  “He’s doing what?” Lily glanced around, wishing she could see and hear Walt.

  “He’s rewriting the good-old-days—when women were proper and buttoned down, and would never consider peeking at a hunky guy wearing just his boxers.” Danielle tossed the silverware onto the counter with some napkins.

  “Didn’t Walt live during the Roaring Twenties?” Lily asked.

  “Exactly.”

  Walt stopped pacing and looked at Danielle. “Well, he isn’t that good looking.”

  Danielle looked over at Walt and cocked her brow. “Seriously? You can stand there and say that with a straight face? Even if I put a sack over his head, he would still look great—those broad shoulders; he’s obviously athletic. The perfect height, not too tall.”

  “That’s just because you’re short,” Walt spat.

  “Humpf. That was not nice.”

  “What did he say?” Lily asked.

  Ignoring Lily’s question Danielle said, “He sort of has that boyish hunky look going for him. Sandy colored hair that needs a trim, vivid blue eyes, nice smile. Good teeth. Rather yummy.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Walt glared at Danielle. “As you know, Angela was quite beautiful. Some said a beauty beyond compare.”

  “Your point?” Danielle asked.

  “I married her, Danielle. How did that work out for me?” Walt disappeared.

  Danielle let out a sigh and glanced around the kitchen. Walt was gone.

  “What is it?” Lily asked.

  “Walt was just reminding me that even the prettiest face can have a black and ugly heart.”

  “True…” Lily picked up the tray holding the cartons of Chinese food. “But it’s still fun to look.”

  Chapter Six

  “Who’s that?” Chris asked when Danielle showed him through the library after dinner. He stared up at the massive portrait—an obvious likeness to the resident ghost. He glanced from the portrait to the spirit lingering nearby, watching him.

  “Walt Marlow,” Danielle said as she stepped up to the portrait, standing next to Chris. She looked up at the painting.

  “He’s the one who was murdered in the attic?” Chris asked, glancing over to Walt, who continued to stare in his direction.

  “Yes. His grandfather built this house—founded Frederickport.” Danielle glanced briefly from the portrait to Walt. “His grandfather was Frederick Marlow.”

  “Kind of a nerdy looking guy, wasn’t he?” Chris remarked.

  “What does he mean by that?” Walt scowled.

  “Umm…no…I don’t think so,” Danielle stammered. She glanced nervously to Walt and back to his portrait.

  “Maybe it’s just that suit he’s wearing. The way he’s standing. Rather effeminate.”

  “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Walt roared.

 
; “I don’t see that at all,” Danielle said.

  The corners of Chris’ mouth twitched; he resisted the urge to laugh. “And the woman? Is that his sister?”

  “No. It was his wife, Angela Marlow. She was killed the day before he was murdered, by a hit and run driver.”

  “Walt Marlow is also the one who stole the Missing Thorndike,” Ian said from his place on the sofa, where he sat with Lily, sharing a plate of homemade cookies.

  Lily, who was no longer munching on cookies, listened attentively to Chris’ comment’s about Walt, her eyes nervously darting about the room.

  “The way you say that, makes me sound like some sort of common thief,” Walt grumbled before summonsing up a cigar. “And what does he mean, I look effeminate? If he’s not careful, I’ll knock him off his block and show him effeminate!”

  Still standing in front of the portrait, Chris’ gaze moved from the painting to Ian and then to Walt Marlow’s spirit. By Ian and Lily’s body language and reaction to Walt’s presence, Chris surmised that neither one could see Walt, yet it was obvious Danielle could.

  Curled up under Walt’s feet was Sadie, Ian’s golden retriever. Chris had already heard Walt issue verbal commands to both Sadie and Danielle’s cat, Max. By the animals’ reactions, he was certain they too could see and hear Walt, which didn’t surprise Chris. Nor was he surprised the animals understood the spirit—and the spirit understood the animals, on a level superior to normal human animal interaction. He had witnessed that before.

  “Damndest thing,” Ian said abruptly. All heads turned in his direction.

  “What?” Lily asked.

  “Can you smell that, Chris?” Ian asked.

  “Smell what?” The only thing Chris noticed was Walt’s cigar smoke.

  “Sometimes, I swear I smell cigar smoke in this house,” Ian explained. “It comes and goes.”

  Chris looked over to Ian, where he sat on the sofa with Lily. He caught a brief exchange between Lily and Danielle—Lily, while popping a piece of cookie in her mouth, flashed an impish grin to Danielle.

  “Yes, I think I smell something,” Chris finally admitted. I’m not sure if I’m more surprised over the fact Ian can smell the cigar smoke or the fact Lily obviously knows something. I don’t think she can see him…Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t interfere with what I came here to do.

  Danielle walked to the sofa, snatching the now empty plate from Lily. “You know these old houses, funny smells.” She set the empty plate on the desk and took a seat on one of the two empty chairs facing the sofa.

  “Funny smells,” Walt scoffed. “I prefer to think of it as my way of making my presence known.”

  Chris stepped away from the portrait, a slight smile on his face as he sat in the empty chair next to Danielle.

  Ian’s interest in the sporadic whiffs of cigar smoke quickly dissolved when Lily changed the direction of the conversation and asked Chris what he did.

  “I enjoy sailing,” Chris said with a smile. He glanced from Ian and Lily to Danielle.

  “I think she was asking what you do for a living,” Walt said. He moved to the sofa and sat on one of its arms, facing Chris. “You avoided that question earlier when Ian asked it in the dining room.”

  “I dream of sailing sometimes,” Danielle said.

  “Don’t change the subject,” Walt scolded. “Find out what he does for a living. If you insist on welcoming strangers into the house, you need to at least try to learn as much as you can about them.”

  “Have you ever been sailing?” Chris asked Danielle.

  “Only in a dream I had once—it seemed real—but no, I’ve never actually been sailing.” Danielle sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  “It felt real to me too, Danielle. Isn’t that all that’s important?” Walt asked in a soft voice.

  Chris frowned, suppressing the urge to stare at Walt. What was he talking about? It felt real? What does he mean—that’s all that’s important? Instead, he said, “Until this morning I was living on a sailboat.”

  “You live on a boat?” Lily perked up.

  “Well, I did. For the last six months. Down at Dana Pointe. It was a friend’s boat. He sold it, so time to move on.”

  “The man is homeless,” Walt said with a scowl.

  “I’m afraid I’d get sea sick,” Ian said.

  “I have to say, I never slept better than I did on that boat. It was probably the movement on the water.”

  “Sort of like being rocked to sleep?” Danielle teased.

  Chris smiled over at Danielle. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Oh please Danielle, are you flirting with him?” Walt stood up and shook his head. “I don’t know why you and Lily think he’s so good looking. He’s nothing special. You need to listen to what he’s saying. The man is homeless. I bet he doesn’t have a job.”

  “Will you be returning to Dana Pointe after the holidays?” Danielle asked.

  Chris shook his head. “No, time to move on.”

  “So you don’t have a job you have to go back to?” Lily asked.

  Walt smiled. “Good girl Lily, at least you know how to ask the right question. Let’s see what he has to say about that.”

  Smiling at Lily, his eyes darting to the end of the sofa where Walt sat, Chris shook his head. “I have no reason to return to Dana Pointe.”

  Danielle stood up. “Why don’t we take this discussion in the living room? We have that beautiful tree in there and it seems a shame not to enjoy it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they sat in the living room. Pine scent from the fresh cut tree filled the air, triggering memories of Christmases past and overshadowing evidence of Walt’s cigar smoke. Danielle poured them each a glass of wine, and had just finished serving the beverages when the doorbell rang. She went to answer it, taking her glass with her.

  When Danielle opened the door it was Heather Donovan, her neighbor from down the street, standing on the doorstep. The young woman wore her long black hair pulled into two buns instead of pigtails, the ends of her hair sticking out of the buns like jagged swords. Clad in a bright green sweat suit, Danielle thought she looked like a cast member from Grinch.

  “Merry Christmas!” Heather greeted, holding up a small, colorful foil sack.

  “Merry Christmas to you too!” Danielle returned, raising her wineglass in mock salute. “Please, come in!”

  “I wanted to stop by and bring you this,” Heather said as she stepped into the house and handed Danielle the sack.

  “A gift? How sweet. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “I’d love one.” Heather hesitated a moment and asked, “Do you have company? I don’t want to just barge in.”

  “It’s just Lily and Ian, and our new guest. Please, come join us.” Danielle led the way back to the living room, now carrying the gift sack and glass of wine.

  Once in the living room, both Ian and Chris stood up. Danielle was about to introduce Heather to Chris when Heather cocked her head to one side and interrupted by saying, “Do I know you?” She stared at Chris.

  “I…I don’t think so,” Chris said hesitantly. He then added with a bright smile, “I’m sure I would remember you.”

  “This is our neighbor, Heather Donovan. Heather, this is our guest, Chris Johnson.”

  Heather shook her head. “No, that’s not right.”

  “You aren’t Heather Donavon?” Chris asked with a mischievous grin.

  “No, I’m Heather Donovan.” Heather said seriously. “But you… no, the person I’m thinking of… Chris…no, not Johnson.”

  Ignoring Heather’s puzzled expression, Danielle poured her neighbor a glass of wine and handed it to her, directing her to an empty chair. Heather pointed to the sack Danielle had left on the table while pouring the wine. “Open it,” she urged.

  “It seems Heather came bearing gifts,” Danielle said when she picked up the sack.

  “It’s actually for Marlow House,” Heather explained as she took a sip of her wine.
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br />   Danielle pulled an electrical gadget from the sack and looked at it.

  “It’s a diffuser,” Heather explained. “You fill it with water, and then add a few drops of essential oil—look in the sack, you’ll find a bottle of oil.”

  Danielle set the diffuser on the table and then pulled out a small vial of oil from the bottom of the sack. She looked at it, reading the handwritten label.

  “My sister uses essential oils,” Lily spoke up. “When we were there for Thanksgiving she used one of those with a holiday fragrance, smelled a little like scented candles.”

  “This is to get rid of any spirits,” Heather explained.

  “Spirits?” Chris spoke up, unable to resist his impulse to glance over at Walt, who sat silently on the edge of the sofa’s armrest.

  Heather nodded. “These old houses sometimes attract spirits that just don’t want to move on. I figure you can never be too careful. It’s my own blend. I was going to use it on…well…that turned out not to be necessary…so I figured you might want to use it here at Marlow House, just in case.” Heather smiled.

  “Umm…well…thanks…” Danielle slipped the bottle back in the sack.

  “Go ahead, try it now,” Heather urged.

  “What did I ever do to her?” Walt grumbled.

  “I think maybe later,” Danielle glanced over to Walt. “I know essential oils typically have their own unique scent, and I’m really enjoying the Christmas tree. Puts me in the holiday spirit.”

  “Oh…of course…well, you can try it later.” Heather smiled and took another sip of her wine. She looked over at Lily. “Are you going to spend Christmas with your family?”

  “No.” Lily shook her head. “Ian and I went down there for Thanksgiving. But we’re going to spend Christmas here and Ian’s sister’s going to join us. She’ll be here on Christmas eve.”

  “That’s nice…having family…” Heather looked down in her wineglass.

  “Heather, you’re more than welcome to spend Christmas with us,” Danielle told her.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to spend Christmas in Vancouver with some friends. That’s one reason I stopped by. I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make your open house. I’ll be gone through the New Year.”