The Ghost Maker

by Kara Lane Barstow

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking a trip with me?” Chris suggested. “I haven’t been back home for a couple years now. I’d like you to meet my family.”

  “Where is home?” Daphne asked, ignoring the quick flash of nerves. Was she ready to meet Chris’s family? And what did meeting them mean? She had invited Chris to her family’s Thanksgiving because he knew she had planned on spending it alone. “You haven’t spoken about it very much or about your family.”

  “Its a small town in the Sierra Mountains called Dunning’s Landing.”

  “Dunning’s Landing? You have a town named after your family?”

  He gave a shrug, “Yeah. My great-great-great, can’t really remember how many greats, grandfather established the town. He came to California for the Gold Rush and decided he didn’t like mining for gold, so he started a lumber mill. The town grew up around it.”

  “So how many Dunnings live there?”

  “Not many at all, just my dad, my mom and my brother. The family wasn’t prolific, or they were just very efficient, depending upon how you looked at it. Throughout the years, there was only one descendent per generation, until my grandparents had two sons: my dad and his brother, Keith. Keith died in a shooting accident, so that left dad.”

  “What’s the town like?”

  “Its one of the places where everybody knows everybody else. It was a great place to grow up. I’d love to show it to you. We could go for a couple days, I promise you’ll get plenty of rest there.”

  “Alright, I’d love to go, it will be nice to get away from here. Besides, you said it is in the Sierras, so I take it there will be snow?”

  “Definitely.”

  “So that means shopping, and there’s nothing I love more than having a reason to shop.”

  After placing her packed suitcase near the door, she walked through the apartment unplugging appliances and turning off lights. When she reached the thermostat to turn it down, she saw her breath come out in a fog. She hugged herself as she felt the warmth of the apartment seep out. Leery that her visitor was Albert Ashe, she silently prayed that it wasn’t him as she made her way into the kitchen. With her back to the sitting room, she opened a cupboard and grabbed one of the boxes of salt she had bought after reading it could be used as a defense against ghosts. Mostly what she had read stated that salt could be used to contain a ghost. Not that she wanted to keep the ghost of Albert Ashe in her apartment, but she hoped that maybe he could be reasoned with if she trapped him. Or maybe she’d just throw the salt at him. She turned to scan the room.

  At first glance, she saw nothing, but slowly a form materialized in the center of the room. As Daphne prepared to pour the salt around it, she realized that the figure was much slimmer than the overweight Ashe. As the darkness took on more form, she realized it was someone she recognized.

  She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that her visitor wasn’t Albert Ashe but her grandmother. Even though her grandmother had been in her late sixties when she died, she always appeared to Daphne as a young girl in her twenties. Her smooth, straight raven-black hair framed a strong face that held dove grey eyes over sharpened cheekbones. She smiled as Daphne drew closer.

  “Mam! What a surprise,” Daphne exclaimed, welcoming her grandmother with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  Daphne had been five when her grandmother died. She had stopped by to say goodbye to Daphne before moving on, letting her youngest grandchild know that she was loved and would be missed. Daphne was too young to understand death and had begged her grandmother to stay with her. Her grandmother had honored her request by making the occasional appearance. It wasn’t until Daphne was older that she realized her grandmother only appeared to her when she was about to take action that could lead to danger. Still, it didn’t negate the pleasure Daphne felt at seeing her again.

  “You’ve been busy these past few weeks, my little one.” Her grandmother’s tone offered the same comfort as it did when she was alive. “Miguel sends his appreciation for your help.”

  “You know about Miguel?”

  “I do. He’s moved on thanks to you. He misses his life and is angry about it being cut short. But since his body was found and the truth known about his murder, he can let go and be at peace.”

  “I’m glad,” Daphne paused. “You haven’t seen his killer have you? Albert Ashe? He was killed in Mexico. Brandon’s friend Tom was worried he might come looking for me.”

  She shook her head, “I haven’t seen him. I’m not likely to though. He has his own problems now, so he won’t have time for you.”

  Daphne was about to ask her if she knew of ways to protect herself, but then her grandmother spoke again.

  “You are going on a trip.”

  “Yes, to Dunning’s Landing, with my boyfriend Chris.”

  “How serious are you about this boy and this relationship?”

  “Well, he’s taking me to meet his parents, but I don’t think we’re serious yet,” Daphne said, considering her relationship with Chris. “We like each other, and he not only knows my secret, but he’s accepted it.”

  Margo nodded, “Yes, you need to be with someone who knows and accepts you as you are. However, you need to be careful with Chris. You have shared your secret with him, but he still has secrets of his own.”

  “He does? What secrets?”

  She shook her head, “I don’t know what they are, and it isn’t my place to share them if I did. Just be careful on this trip.”

  “Because of Chris?” Daphne asked, worried about what secrets he could have. “Or something else?”

  “Chris is part of it, but he isn’t the only one with secrets. Dunning’s Landing is under a shadow, too much sorrow and violent death for such a small town. You need to take care.”

  Before Daphne could ask for more specifics, Chris rang the doorbell. She answered it and let him in. When she turned back to her grandmother, she was gone. Frowning at her cryptic message, Daphne tried not to let it become a cloud over this trip. She was looking forward to it. At least her grandmother hadn’t tried to talk her out of going.

  Chapter Seven

  “Something wrong?” Chris asked after several minutes of driving in silence.

  “No, sorry, just trying to figure out if I’ve forgotten something.” She smiled at him, “You know how it is when you leave for a trip.”

  Putting aside her grandmother’s cryptic message, she sat back to enjoy the drive. It would take over four hours to get to Dunning’s Landing. As the Bay Area became more distant and the Sierra Mountains came into view, Daphne could feel herself relaxing.

  She found herself staring at Chris. Her grandmother’s words coming back to her. What was he not telling her? What great secret could he have? Then she shook herself. Why shouldn’t he have his own secrets? She had kept hers from him for the past several months. She was more concerned about the shadow over Dunning’s Landing.

  He must have felt her eyes on him, because he glanced at her and smiled. “Feeling better?”

  “I am, this is exactly what I needed. Time away from it all.”

  “You’ll like Dunning’s Landing. It is a small town, but the people are really nice and the views are breathtaking, especially in winter.”

  He had given her the opening, so she was going to take it. “What is Dunning’s Landing like?”

  He shrugged. “Typical small town. The Main Street hosts a few small shops, a diner, and two restaurants. One Chinese and the other Italian. There’s one elementary school and a high school.”

  “What did you do for fun?”

  “There’s a lake where we used to swim. We’d camp in the woods. During the winter, there is plenty of snow for snowball fights and building snowmen.” He laughed. “That sounds so boring.”

  “Did you like growing up there?”

  “I did. But I
can’t imagine living there forever. Especially now being used to the Bay Area. There is so much more to do and so many more opportunities. I just don’t see myself living in a small town again. What about you? Where do you see yourself living after graduation? Moving back to Napa?”

  Daphne shook her head, “I doubt it. That’s Brandon’s home. Once I graduate, I’ll be getting my grandmother’s house in San Francisco.”

  He seemed surprised. “Really? A house in San Francisco. That’s quite a graduation gift.”

  “Its already mine but I’ve been renting it out, since it’s more convenient to live in Palo Alto for school. The couple living there now are planning on moving sometime next summer so it works out perfectly. I can move in once they find a place. I’m not in a big hurry.”

  “Any idea what you want to do after you graduate?”

  “Not really. While I’m studying journalism, I don’t see myself as a reporter.”

  “Have you talked to your dad? He really helped me on Thanksgiving. Maybe you should talk to him about your career.”

  “I have, he thinks I should use my gift, but I can’t figure out how.”

  “You helped Miguel and his family.” Chris stated. “Maybe you could be a private investigator, I imagine being able to see and talk to ghosts would help you. The ghosts would appreciate having someone who can understand them.”

  Daphne laughed. “I’m not even sure how that would work. How would I advertise to get clients and then how would they pay me for my services?”

  Chris shrugged. “Good points. Although do you really need the money?”

  “No, but everyone in my family works, everyone earns money and contributes. It’s important and it’s expected. It’s important to me to do something worthwhile.”

  “I know Brandon manages the vineyard, what does Ariana do?”

  Daphne explained how Ariana started a think tank while she was still in high school and had grown it into a successful business.

  Daphne watched snowy peaks of the mountains get closer. The snow promised water in the warmer months, which unfortunately was never enough for the often drought-plagued state.

  When the road began its twists and turns through the mountains, Daphne felt all the stress from finals drifting away. “Thanks for inviting me Chris. I really needed some time away.”

  “I’m glad you said yes. I love showing off my home and the town.” He grinned.

  They passed very few other cars on the road. It wasn’t snowing now, but snow lay on the ground amongst the trees and piles of it had been pushed off the road into dirty heaps. Daphne couldn’t remember the last time she saw snow. Probably the last time she had gone skiing, which had been before college took over her life.

  “We’re getting close,” Chris finally said. “Just over this next hill.”

  After making the climb to the top, Chris pulled over and parked. Down below lay a valley packed with snow-covered trees. Nestled in the center was a grouping of buildings and roads. It was like looking into a snow globe while waiting for someone to shake it. Set away from the town was a small airfield and farther to right was a deep blue lake, sparkling under the sun.

  “It’s lovely.” Daphne whispered, as if speaking out loud would ruin the tranquility.

  “Yeah. I never get tired of this view. The white snow in winter and the splash of color in spring through fall. I used to come up here and park, just to look at it. There’s only one road in and out of the valley. So whenever I topped this hill, it was always with a feeling of contentment because I knew I was almost home.”

  “I get that way whenever I start seeing the grapevines on my way to Napa. So familiar. Did you come up here and park alone?” Daphne asked in jest.

  She was surprised to see Chris clench his jaw. She had expected one of his quick grins. When the grin did finally show, she wondered whether she had imagined the tension.

  They drove down Main Street, Daphne studied the little shops. Each had large windows containing Christmas scenes inspired by the merchandise inside. The stationery store had an image of Santa making his list and checking it twice using a very nice ink pen while the hardware store boasted elves working with various tools. Very cute and very quaint. Soon they were out of the town and into the neighborhoods. Most of the homes were small, indicative of the style of houses built during the gold rush period. The people who established the town had likely not been very wealthy, so the houses were more serviceable than decorative. However, remodels had given some additional stories and more curb appeal.

  Daphne was surprised when Chris continued past the houses and started up another mountain road.

  “Our house is on this mountain. It gives us an amazing view of the town and the whole valley.”

  The road scaled the mountain side and through a forest of trees. Every so often there would be a break in the tree line and she could see the valley stretched out below. Daphne lowered the window a tiny bit to breath in the clean, evergreen perfumed air. She rolled it back up again as the cold flooded the small car. The views grew more stunning the higher they climbed. It was breathtaking.

  After what seemed like thirty minutes or more, Chris turned onto a flat area that had likely been man made. The road crossed through a few more trees and then opened up to display a fairy tale house of stone and glass, the occasional touch of wood added warmth to home. It spiraled out of the rocky ledge. A stone and glass fortress hidden away in the mountains.

  The founders of Dunning’s Landing must have liked the idea of looking at what they had built spread out below them. The view held her attention. She couldn’t imagine a better place for an escape than this mountain resort.

  Chapter Eight

  Chris drove around to the side of the house, stopping in front of a multi-car garage. After parking the car he got out and opened her door before grabbing their luggage. A slightly older, more muscular version of Chris came out the door to greet them. He had Chris’s eyes and mouth, but his light brown hair was slightly longer, his freckles a little more prominent and his skin more tanned.

  “You must be Daphne,” he welcomed her with a smile.

  “And you must be Craig,” Daphne answered with a smile of her own.

  “Guilty. I’ll take your bag,” he offered grabbing the handle and leading the way back into the house.

  They entered a mud room with hooks along the nearest wall for coats, scarves, and hats. Beneath them were shelves and cubbies for boots and gloves. However, most of the space looked like they were preparing for a garage sale. The room was as big as her apartment and held everything from flower pots and soil to boxes marked kitchen, study, and bathroom. There was an umbrella stand crammed full of umbrellas and walking sticks along with a gun safe holding three shotguns visible through the glass door. Daphne could see painting supplies and a ladder against the farthest wall.

  Chris ignored the mess and led Daphne through another door into a massive kitchen. The back wall was made entirely of glass with a long table and six chairs positioned to take advantage of the views while eating. The room towered above them. The ceiling was a soft brown wood that peaked above the center of the room. In that center stood the working area of the kitchen. The refrigerator, stove and ovens created a hub where the chef could work as an actor on a stage. It was as if the walls of the kitchen had been blown out and the kitchen itself remained standing. The counters were wide enough to accommodate seating around the hub allowing the chef to work and chat with the seated audience. Against the nearest wall there was a nook with comfortable benches around a smaller table. A painting of what could have been an outdoor restaurant hung above the seating. On the other side of the table was a stand holding a phone and another door. The remaining walls offered more seating in the form of benches.

  Chris took her through a different door and into what Daphne could only describe as an amphitheater. The layout took open floor plan to a n
ew level. The room was longer than a football field and about half as wide. Divided into separate sections it couldn’t be called cozy, but it was inviting. The area closest to the kitchen offered a dining area for twelve. It was separated from the living room by two massive hutches filled with antique dinnerware. Daphne counted three separate seating areas, each with comfy couches and chairs. A towering Christmas tree stood in front of the wall of windows, next to the furthest grouping of sofas. In front of the tree stood two people, who could only be Chris’s parents.

  Chris and Craig had inherited their mother’s soft brown eyes and their father’s coloring, including his light brown hair. They were both smiling at her and Chris as he lead the way to where they stood.

  “Oh Chris, I’m so happy you’re home,” Debbie gushed as he embraced her son. His father waited patiently for his turn. As he gave his son a welcoming embrace, Debbie turned to Daphne. “It is so good to meet you. I can’t thank you enough for bringing my son home.”

  Daphne smiled and shook the woman’s hand. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. They spoke as if Chris had been lost in a crowd, and she had brought him back to his anxious parents.

  Chris’s father shook her hand.

  “Kevin Dunning,” he said, “and this is my wife Debbie.” He beamed at his wife as he stroked her arm while shaking Daphne’s hand. “You guys made good time.”

  “We did,” Chris agreed. “We made it town sooner than I expected.”

  “You have a lovely home. I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said giving the parents a broad smile.

  Debbie smiled back, “Oh I’m so pleased you like it. We love it here. Don’t we, Kevin?”

  Kevin nodded and indicated a sofa that sat opposite where he and Debbie sat. Chris joined her while Craig sat in one of the armchairs. Daphne and Chris told them about Stanford and their studies, while Debbie, Craig, and Kevin brought Chris up to date on people Daphne didn’t know. As they talked, she let her mind wander as she studied the arrangement of photos over the sofa where Kevin and Debbie. In the center of the arrangement was a painting of a grand house. It looked familiar, but Daphne couldn’t place it. It wasn’t a painting of this house, but she knew she had seen it before.