We’re finishing off our second helping, when we hear a key in the lock, then adult voices in the middle of a conversation. Daddy comes into the kitchen followed by Aunt Mayda.
Mayda Shipley must be the smartest woman I know, but she knows beans about making the most of her looks. Her taste in clothing is the worst. Tonight she’s wearing baggy trousers and a pink blouse with a big, droopy bow. She swoops down from her height of nearly six feet to give Robby and me a hug.
“Did you see Theodore?” Robby asks Daddy.
“Who’s Theodore?” Daddy asks. Then he remembers. “No, no sign of him.” He looks from our plates to the fast food package in his hands. “Sorry, you must have gotten hungry. Guess you don’t need this after all.”
“Vannie made spaghetti-cheese omelet,” Robby says, full of pride.
Aunt Mayda wanders over to the stove. She lifts the lid off the pot. “Mmmm, smells divine. May I try some?”
“Sure, Aunt Mayda.”
I’m nervous as I dish some out and get Aunt Mayda a fork. I want to tell her about taking the supplies, but I don’t want to mention Archie. How can I do one without the other?
Daddy goes out to the car to bring in the things he got from our house. Aunt Mayda eats quickly, as though she didn’t eat anything at their meeting. Finally, she turns to me and nods. “Delicious. Is it one of your mother’s dishes? I don’t remember her ever making this.”
“Er—no,” I say, but Aunt Mayda’s deep in thought.
“Funny, it tastes like something my father used to make when my mother didn’t feel like cooking. He claimed it was a family recipe.” She takes another bite. “Only my father used cheddar cheese. And real bacon.”
I take a deep breath. “I borrowed some of the ingredients from Greystone,” I say quickly. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? I call that clever thinking.” Aunt Mayda’s narrow face lights up with a smile. She almost looks pretty. “Leftover supplies end up in the garbage around here. No one thinks to put them to good use.”
She looks from me to Robby and her voice softens. “Actually, I came by to see how you guys are settling in. And to find out if you need anything.”
Robby frowns and crosses his arms. “I need a bigger room. And everything’s dark.”
“The rooms are dark,” I agree. “We need stronger lights.”
Daddy comes in and drops a carton on the floor. “Vanessa! That’s not very polite.”
Aunt Mayda laughs. “I did ask, Roger. And I am your landlady of sorts.” She studies the fluorescent light flickering over us. “I’ll have Casey put in brighter bulbs tomorrow.”
Daddy, definitely annoyed, asks me, “Did you unpack Robby’s things?”
“Uh-huh. Nothing fits him anymore. He needs new clothes. So do I.”
Daddy sighs. “We’ll get to that in good time.”
Anger boils up inside me. I’m furious with him for not taking care of us, for sticking us in this dingy cottage when we’ve a perfectly good home of our own.
“We need new clothes now,” I tell him. “Or do you want the kids in school making fun of us on top of everything else?”
Daddy’s about to yell at me, when Aunt Mayda touches his arm. “I’d be happy to take them shopping, Roger.” She looks at me. “How about one evening next week?”
“Sure,” I say, though I’m cringing inside. I don’t want Aunt Mayda to have anything to do with my clothes.
She must be reading my mind because she laughs and says, “Of course I’ll leave all the choosing to you. I’ve no idea what kids are wearing these days.”
“I can pick out my own clothes, too,” Robby says.
He’s so cute and earnest, we all laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Robby asks.
“Nothing,” the three of us say at the same time, which makes Robby mad. But the tension in the air has faded away like smoke—or a ghost.
Aunt Mayda looks at her watch. “Roger, can you drive me to the station now? I promised a friend I’d be back in the city in time to make a ten o’clock movie.”
Is this friend a date? I wonder as she puts her dish in the sink. “Delicious, Vannie,” she tells me again. “You have your mother’s touch.”
I feel sad and proud at the same time. Tears fill my eyes. Aunt Mayda hugs me close. Then she sets me free and is all sensible-practical once again.
“When shall we go shopping? Tuesday evening? No, I’ve a meeting then. Wednesday?”
Aunt Mayda runs through her weekly schedule and decides that Friday evening will be best, after all. She’ll stay overnight at Greystone.
“We’ve the craft show here next weekend,” she explains. “And while I’ve no responsibilities, they like me to put in an appearance. I’ll do that Saturday morning, then be on my way.”
Robby and I kiss Aunt Mayda good-bye. Daddy drives Aunt Mayda to the train station. When he comes back he’s whistling for the first time in months.
CHAPTER FOUR
I read in bed to help me fall asleep, only I can’t relax. I turn out the light and lie in the dark, listening to the creaks and groans of the cottage. Is that a mouse? A ghost? I bolt upright each time a tree branch scratches against my window. When I’m about to drift off, I hear Robby crying for me. I take him into my bed. He falls asleep immediately, while I stay up half the night thinking.
I think about how much I miss my room at home.
I think about the snooty Petersons moving in tomorrow.
I think about how relieved Daddy was that Aunt Mayda offered to take us shopping for new clothes.
I’d put it all in my “It isn’t fair” notebook, only it’s written down there already.
Then I think about Archie.
I wonder when he lived and how he died. And why he’s haunting Merrymount Gardens.
My pulse quickens as I remember Mayda saying her father used to make a spaghetti-cheese omelet when her mother didn’t feel like cooking. It speeds up to double time when I wonder if Archie is—was Mayda’s father. They both have long, skinny legs and a narrow face, though Archie is handsome and Mayda is—Mayda.
I realize I know nothing about Aunt Mayda’s family, if she has brothers and sisters or where her parents live. But the fact that she remembers her father preparing meals means that Archie can’t be her father since he didn’t strike me as being a day older than twenty-four. Yay! I thrust my fist in the air, thrilled to have made one deduction. Robby stirs in his sleep.
Next question: if Archie isn’t Mayda’s father, how come he’s known her since she was born?
The next thing I know is it’s morning and Robby’s calling up to me from downstairs to hurry up so we can visit the ducks. I get dressed and go into the kitchen. Robby and I drink a glass of orange juice. He takes the last two stale biscuits from the box. “For the ducks,” he explains.
I don’t have the heart to remind him Daddy said not to feed them.
“Morning,” we both call out to Daddy, who’s already at work in his new office.
Daddy looks at his watch. “Give me twenty minutes, then we’ll have breakfast.”
I’m nervous as we walk toward the duck pond, wondering how I’ll explain Archie to Robby if he’s lounging on the bench as he was yesterday. But Archie’s nowhere in sight. The ducks swim toward Robby as though they know he has food for them.
“See, Vannie, they know I’m their friend.” He crumbles up the biscuits and tosses them into the water. He laughs and laughs as the ducks dive and gobble up the pieces.
At breakfast, there’s hardly enough milk for our cereal. “Daddy, we need groceries,” I tell him. “I’ll write up a list.”
“What?” Daddy’s been working out some MG business in his head. “Sure, Vannie,” he finally says. “Maybe we can go shopping later. First I have to talk to Casey. Iron out some problems about the arts and crafts show.”
“I won’t be here, remember? I’m going to the movies with Tammy.”
“Oh. Right. Can you take Robby wi
th you?”
I glare at my father. “Robby has a soccer game at one o’clock. I gave you his schedule, remember?”
Robby tugs his arm. “You forgot, Daddy! And you said you’d stay and watch me play this time.”
Daddy tries for a jovial laugh. It falls as flat as two-day-old soda. “Of course I will, Robby. Then you and I will go food shopping together.”
I slam my dish down in the sink. “And you have to pick up Tammy and me after the movie, remember? You said you would last night.”
Daddy’s face is red as he does some figuring. “I said so and I will. But I can’t make it any earlier than five o’clock, Vannie.”
“If that’s the best you can do,” I tell him, but secretly I’m glad. It will give us plenty of time to browse the stores.
Daddy gets up and clears his dirty dishes. “I can see I won’t be getting anything done today.”
I pat his shoulder. “It’s Sunday, Dad. No one expects you to work today.”
“Running Merrymount Gardens is a seven-day job,” he says as he leaves the kitchen.
So is your job as a father, I think.
*
Tammy’s dad drops us off in front of the SixteenPlex Movie Theaters. We buy tickets to see this great romantic comedy all the kids are talking about. It starts at one, so we’ve plenty of time to eat lunch and do some window shopping.
I don’t usually like malls, but today I’m happy to be here, surrounded by people talking and shopping and eating. Normal people doing everyday things. I feel normal, too, out with my best friend for a fun afternoon. No need to worry about Robby, or wonder how long we’ll have to live in that gruesome cottage at MG. I could forget about it completely, if only Tammy would shut up about it.
“The cottage sounds really cute,” she says as we wait on line to order our pizza. “I don’t know why you think it’s so awful.”
“It’s dark and musty and full of old furniture.” I turn and look her in the eye. “And I’d rather live in my own home.”
“I know, Vannie.” Tammy hugs me. “But maybe your dad’s not the only one who needs a change.”
I don’t answer. We move up to the front of the pizza line.
“Two slices of vegetable pizza and a Coke,” I order.
“Next!” the skinny teenager shouts.
“Er—one slice of vegetable pizza and a Diet Coke,” Tammy says. She’s petite and a little on the pudgy side, so she’s always trying to diet. “Trying” is the operative word. Tammy starts out ordering less, but usually ends up eating more than I do.
“Maybe you could look at living at MG as some kind of adventure,” she says when we’re at our table. “Pretend you’re a millionairess with acres and acres of land.”
Tammy’s trying to make me feel better so I say, “Sure, Tam. You’ll come over soon and we’ll go exploring.”
“Great! Do you think we can go inside Greystone?”
“Why not? The mansion’s open to visitors all through the year.”
Tammy lowers her voice. “I mean go inside at night.”
“Why do you want to do that?”
Tammy’s upper lip trembles, the way it does when she gets excited. “To see if there are any ghosts, silly. Ghosts haunt lots of old mansions. I saw it on this TV show.”
I’m dying to tell Tammy about Archie, only I know what would happen if I did. First an ear-piercing shriek, then demands—loud enough for everyone in the pizza parlor to hear—that I tell her then and there every detail about meeting a ghost.
Instead, I press my lips together to keep from grinning as I ask, “I wonder if any ghosts prefer the great outdoors.”
“Not usually, Vannie. This man on the show said ghosts stay mostly indoors. And they mostly appear at night.”
“I bet some of them aren’t even scary.”
Tammy snorts. “Of course they are. Wouldn’t you be scared if you saw a ghost?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Oh, right,” Tammy says scornfully.
This sets me whooping with laughter. Tammy looks at me as if I’ve lost it, but soon she’s laughing too. We carry on like a pair of hyenas, pounding the table and bopping up and down in our seats, till people start giving us the eye.
The movie turns out to be really good. We especially like it because it takes place in Paris.
“We absolutely must put Paris first on our list,” Tammy says as we leave the theater.
I agree. We move Paris up to number one on our “Must See Before We’re Thirty” list, ahead of London, Australia, China, and Alaska. Then we head for our favorite department store.
We spend lots of time at the cosmetic counters. We pick out the shades of lipstick we plan to wear next year when we’re in seventh grade. We sample perfumes and hand creams as we amble down the aisles. Too many, I guess, since we’re sneezing from the fumes by the time we get to the preteen section on the second floor. I check out the racks and find some pants and tops I plan to try on Friday night, when Aunt Mayda takes Robby and me shopping.
After we stop for ice cream, we’ve still about twenty minutes before we have to meet Daddy at five o’clock. The mega bookstore across the way gives me a great idea. I point to it.
“Let’s go in there.”
“Why?”
“I want to look something up.”
I hold my breath, worried Tammy will ask me what I want to look up, but she’s glad to have the chance to check out magazine articles about Len Wicket, the cute lead actor in the movie we just saw. I wait till she’s deep in a magazine, then zoom over to the nonfiction section. I pass Nature, Women’s Studies, Health, and Psychology. At New Age and Paranormal I slow down to read each title. Sure enough, there’s the very book I hoped to find!
“Everything You Want to Know About Ghosts” is chock-full of true ghost stories, with illustrations and photos of transparent figures. The ghosts all have sad or contorted faces. They seem more upset than scary. Interesting, I think, but not much help to me. Archie strikes me as a cheerful ghost. I flip back toward the beginning, and come upon something real important.
“A ghost,” the book says, “is a spirit that cannot rest. It hovers about the site where it has died for one of many reasons. Perhaps its death was violent, or it wants someone to avenge its murder, or it needs to resolve an issue close to its heart.”
I nearly drop the book as I remember the last thing Archie said to me before he disappeared. Something about needing my help by and by.
I’m suddenly frightened. Archie, I tell him silently, if someone killed you, please don’t count on me to avenge your death. I’m only eleven and three quarters.
Icy fingers creep along my neck. I scream. The book falls to the floor with a loud thump. Tammy picks it up.
“Sorry, Vannie, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Liar,” she says calmly.
“All right, you did.”
“Admit it. You are afraid of ghosts.”
“Not all of them,” I say carefully.
Tammy blinks. While her mind’s scrambling to make sense of my words, I grab her arm and lead her to an empty sitting area. She tries to struggle free, but I hold on harder. I mutter in her ear, “Don’t make one sound if you want me to tell you something important.”
She opens her mouth to squeal, thinks better of it, and plops down in the soft chair. I take one of the smaller chairs and pull it closer. I look around to make sure no one’s within ten feet of us and begin.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Wow!” Tammy says after I’ve told her everything. “This is better than TV! It’s even better than a movie! I’d say it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me!”
I don’t bother to point out that nothing’s happened to her. “Actually, Archie’s more weird than exciting,” I say. “And I didn’t realize he was a ghost until after he disappeared. But he’s gotten me real curious.”
“Me, too,” Tammy agrees. “I think you’re
right when you say he’s not Mayda’s father. But he sure knows a lot about her and Merrymount Gardens.”
“He’s probably a relative,” I say. “There’s that family resemblance.”
“Why don’t you ask Mayda?”
“I can’t.” The words come out with a will of their own as I piece together what I’ve figured out. “I bet Mayda has no idea that Archie haunts MG. She never would have let us move into the cottage if she did.”
“Maybe she told your father and he didn’t want to scare you and Robby.”
“No.” I shake my head decisively. “They both know how nervous Robby’s been lately.” I can’t bring myself to speak of my mother’s death.
Tammy gnaws at her lower lip as she thinks. “I don’t remember hearing stories about there being a ghost at Merrymount Gardens.” Her eyes narrow. “Unless this is all one big whopper.”
“Come on, Tam, when did I ever make up a story like this?”
“Last summer, when you told me you were going to Alaska.”
I grin. “The cruise to Alaska was pure fantasy. But this is different. I swear everything I’ve told you is true.”
I don’t much care for the piercing look she gives me. “In that case, Archie revealed himself to you for a reason, and I don’t mean so he could give you a recipe.”
Her words ring with prophecy and truth. I hug myself to keep from trembling. Tammy sees I’m frightened, and squeezes my arm.
“Don’t worry, Vannie. He doesn’t sound evil at all.”
“No, he isn’t,” I agree. “But you’re right—he made it his business to talk to me, and I intend to find out why.”
*
I’m like a split personality as I explore MG the next two afternoons, both hoping and fearing I’ll run into Archie. Half of me insists I’ve enough on my plate without having to deal with the problems of a well-dressed ghost. The other half is curious and yearning for adventure.
I google “Archie Heatherton” and come up with zilch. I wonder why.
And why does Archie want me to help him? Help him do what? The wildest possibilities flit across my mind. Maybe Archie is Mayda’s cousin. They fell madly in love, were forbidden to marry, and then he died a horrible death. I shake my head, unable to imagine anyone madly in love with Mayda. It’s all too fantastic. I laugh to think Ms. Lyons, my Language Arts teacher, would be thrilled if she knew how wildly my creative juices are flowing.
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