Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  “My sister-in-law bakes them.”

  “Sister-in-law?” Surely it couldn’t be her sister. Allison was brilliant but she’d never shown any interest in the kitchen. Besides, what surgeon baked for a bed and breakfast?

  Meg nodded. “Toni is married to my husband’s brother, Brooks.”

  Running through her memory banks from her time in Tuckers Bluff, Fancy did her best to place which of the six siblings was Brooks.

  Reaching for a second muffin, Rick freely moaned with delight. “Does she have a sister?”

  “Yes, but word on the street is she can’t bake worth a darn.”

  Rick shook his head. “Too bad, it could have been true love.”

  Fancy, on the other hand, hadn’t felt like eating. So far she’d swirled her eggs in the syrup from the French toast, but didn’t think she’d actually taken a bite of breakfast. Her mind was counting down the minutes until her sister’s arrival. The phone call last night to inform Allison she had reached Tuckers Bluff safe and sound had been brutal. Allison was reserved but friendly, and the few words spoken to arrange for this morning’s meeting were as stilted and brittle as her mom’s winter peanut crackle.

  With every passing tick of the clock she’d felt less and less like consuming any food. Except now all this talk of muffins had her thinking she could manage one swallow.

  “They taste even better with a little butter on them.” Meg set a fresh tub on the table. Her hostess had been polite and reserved late last night when they’d checked in. A subtle shift that told Fancy loud and clear the woman had figured out who she was. “I’ll admit, after Toni’s mimosa cake balls, these are my favorite.”

  Okay, first bite and Fancy was a fan. “Maybe Neil could write a song about these.”

  Garrett shrugged. “If he throws in a cowboy, and a broken heart it could be a huge hit.”

  “And great advertising for the town.” Meg laughed, the first hint of the lighthearted person who had taken their reservation and talked up her little town.

  “Oh, and a dog,” another guest added. “You have to toss that in!”

  The room filled with more laughter as the grandmother clock in the hall clanged the hour. The easy mood Fancy had indulged in for all of two minutes slid away. With near military precision, the front door squeaked open and footsteps traveled down the hall. Garrett shot her a you-can-do-this look of confidence and she prayed more today than any day before that he was right, and that this trip would be enough to bring her what she’d always wanted.

  A wall of solidarity in the form of her daughter’s father holding her sister’s hand came through the doorway. Fancy pushed to her feet, sliding her hands down along her denim skirt. “Hi Allison.”

  Her sister stood straight and strong and suddenly her lower lip trembled, her eyes sparkled with moisture and blinking fast at the water dripped down her cheeks, she softly muttered, “Fancy.” A second later, her baby sister’s arms were tight around her and all Fancy could think was how many years she’d foolishly wasted.

  ****

  “Okay.” Glenn could see the old wooden buildings at the end of the bumpy road. This wasn’t a building or two on a tumbleweed-laden road. This was still an intact town. “Not what I expected.”

  Eileen slanted a glance in his direction. “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but not this.”

  That made Eileen laugh from deep in her belly and he remembered what a beautiful sound it was.

  “I thought we’d park here on the edge, then we could walk to the church and back.”

  “Works for me.” He squinted, focusing on the end of the street then slowly scanned the old wooden sidewalks. “Where are the snakes hiding?”

  “Tall grass usually.”

  There was plenty of dirt and dust as far as he could see, but no grass. “Where?”

  Eileen stretched her arm out, a slender unpolished nail pointing in the distance to the left. “From what I remember Joanna and Finn ran into trouble in the churchyard.” Her eyes narrowed. “But it looks like someone may have gone at it with a weed whacker.”

  “Are you telling me millennial ghosts have learned to use lawn tools?”

  “Oh, brother. Don’t even go there.” Eileen rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

  Slowly they walked side by side, peeking in windows, checking doorknobs. When they got to the old saloon the doors opened easily. “Here,” he said.

  “Oh, wow.” Eileen’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “This is—”

  “Not what you expected?” Glenn teased.

  “Someone’s been having a field day with a broom and scrub brush.”

  Glenn sniffed the air. “Lemon cleaner too. So what we have here is a savvy and neat freak ghost.”

  “We do not have a ghost.” Eileen ran her hand across the neat as a pin and shiny bar top and for a second he thought he saw her shiver.

  The floors were well worn but clean. Only a few scattered tables and sundry chairs filled the large room. Most likely a fraction of the original furniture.

  “This is a little creepy.” Eileen brushed her arms.

  Thoroughly amused at this place and her reaction, Glenn stepped in closer. “I think it’s cool.”

  Rolling her eyes at him once more, Eileen shook her head and spun on her heel mumbling, “Men.”

  “Shall we explore upstairs or continue down the street?” he asked.

  Eileen’s gaze trailed up the wooden stairs to what back in the day would have most likely been the private…entertainment rooms. “I think I’d like to see what else is out here.”

  “Works for me.” He held the door for her and watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked past him. Some things really didn’t change. “You know, this town reminds me a little of that town outside of Reno we played in our first year on tour.”

  Strolling beside him, she stopped to cup her eyes and peer into a dirty window before glancing back over her shoulder at him. “I’m not remembering anything like this.”

  “Well, it was more cleaned up. The sidewalks were concrete. The town was much bigger too, but a few blocks of the main street felt exactly like this. The hall we sang at was a converted saloon.”

  Eileen snapped straight, her eyes twinkling. “With the red curtains on the stage.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I’d completely forgotten about that.” A whimsical smile took over her face. Apparently, she held fond memories of that first year together too, and that was a very good thing.

  “Rumors were that the town had a resident ghost too.”

  “This town does not have a ghost.” And apparently she hadn’t lost any of her stubborn Irish either.

  They’d walked almost to the end of the street and stopped in front of the old bordello. The house with the history that had caught Joanna’s interest. The house that now had two shadows in the front window.

  “And that, Miss Callahan,” he smiled and waved a hand at the gabled porch, “is probably your ghosts.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Holy Casper.” Eileen stopped dead in her tracks. There is no such thing as ghosts. Absolutely no such thing. Absolutely.

  “Shall we go look?” Glenn waved his arm along the walkway toward the front door. “Could be interesting.”

  “Hmm,” Eileen muttered, silently repeating her mantra there’s no such thing as ghosts. Slowly making her way up the path, out of nowhere a soft wind blew across the neatly trimmed yard. No such thing as ghosts. So distracted by the shadows inside, she hadn’t noticed the yard till now. Someone here too had been busy with that weed whacker. A real someone. A human someone. So what if she didn’t have a clue who. Or why. No such thing as ghosts.

  “Could use a coat of paint.” Glenn’s soft whisper sent a shiver down Eileen’s spine. When his fingers reached out and touched her arm, she jumped almost a foot forward. “Sorry,” he added.

  “Not a problem.” She was being absolutely ridiculous. There was a perfect
ly logical explanation. She just wasn’t all that sure she cared to know what it was. At this particular moment a nice hot cup of tea—in Tuckers Bluff—was sounding wonderful.

  The front door creaked slowly open and instinctively stepping back, Eileen bumped into Glenn. His breath hitched and for the first time since he started teasing her she got the impression he was a bit concerned he might not be teasing after all.

  The creak grew louder with every inch the door eased back out of the way and waving her arm behind her, Eileen finally latched onto Glenn’s hand. No such thing as ghosts.

  A tall carrot-topped slender figure appeared in the doorway only to have a short round blonde squirm to the front. Sisters!

  Letting out a long deep breath, Eileen softly muttered, there’s no such thing as ghosts. Maybe next time she wouldn’t let her imagination run away with her.

  “Well now, isn’t this a nice surprise.” Sissy rubbed her hands together with delight.

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” Sister agreed, beaming from the front door. “And who have we here?”

  As if the two women and half of Tuckers Bluff didn’t already know. Eileen stepped up onto the porch. “Sister and Sissy, this is an old friend, Glenn Baker.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the two siblings echoed.

  “Likewise.” He bowed just slightly from the waist, sending the two women momentarily into a matched fit of giggles.

  “We’ve been working hard for weeks,” Sister said. “I hope you like it.”

  “Oh my.” Crossing the threshold, Eileen was convinced she’d stepped back in time. “Oh my,” she repeated.

  “We petitioned the state to return it to us as the only heirs. Since this was our great-great-granny’s home and all,” Sister explained.

  “Yes,” Sissy added. “Approval didn’t take long at all. We thought it would be fun to fix the old place up. Make it more appealing to tourists.”

  “That’s right,” Sister picked up where Sissy left off. “This way when they’re done poking around here they’ll come spend money in Tuckers Bluff.”

  Eileen blew out a whistle. “You did all of this? Just the two of you?”

  “Jamison helped. After we did a little sprucing up—”

  “Sprucing up?” Eileen mumbled. Even Mr. Clean would have scrubbed his fingers to the bone.

  “Yes, well. Your nephew made a few repairs here and there. Might have loaned us his painting crew, though you didn’t hear that from us,” the taller of the two sisters whispered conspiratorially. “Then he let us have the pick of all the old furniture in the pub’s attic. He and Frank helped us bring it over last Sunday afternoon.”

  “Frank?” Eileen asked, not really surprised that the old Marine would get involved.

  The two sisters nodded. Their heads bobbed with such force it was a miracle they hadn’t fallen off.

  “We love how it turned out. We’ve been thinking it might be fun to let tourists spend the night and visit with the ghosts.”

  “Told ya.” Glenn smiled.

  “Don’t.” Eileen held her hand up. “We’re not going there again.”

  “Would you like to look around?” The mismatched sisters stepped to opposite sides and urged Eileen and Glenn across the room.

  “Now this,” Eileen took in the room, “reminds me of that gig we did in Nevada. The rich colors, the Victorian era furniture. Remember the woman who worked the registration desk? She must have been a hundred and fifty if she was a day.” Eileen smiled, wiping her hand over an antique secretary.

  Glenn chuckled. “She wore those high-collared, long-sleeved, to-the-floor dresses. Anyone would think she’d stepped out of an American Gothic painting.”

  “That’s right.” Eileen spun around, grinning. “And lots of lace and the sourest expression. I teased she must be—”

  “Lurch’s sister.” Glenn’s laughter rumbled, pulling a laugh from deep inside Eileen.

  The two softly began to sing, “They’re creepy and they’re kooky,” and by the time their voices had grown stronger and Eileen belted out “neat,” Sister chimed in, “sweet,” and Sissy managed “petite” before all three women burst into a fit of giggles.

  Almost doubled over with laughter, Glenn slid his arm around Eileen’s waist. “Those were fun years.”

  “Yes,” her cheeks ached from laughing, “they were very good years.”

  Sister and Sissy continued singing the theme song from the old TV show while leading the way up the stairs. Eileen couldn’t get over what a wonderful job they’d done restoring the old place.

  “Oh my.” Just to the left of the top of the stairs, Eileen froze in front of a large framed photograph.

  Sissy and Sister stopped and spun about. Both women frowning at the delay and then taking in Eileen’s interest in the photograph, the sisters instantly sported matching smiles. Considering their difference in height, shape, and coloring, their smile was just about the only thing that matched.

  Sister stepped in closer and pointed to the large gilded frame. “That’s our great-great-grandmother Lilibeth and her sister, Siseley. Both were mail order brides back in the day.”

  “Yes.” Eileen nodded. “I remember that story, but when Joanna was sorting through all the photos, I don’t ever remember seeing this one.”

  “No?” Sissy asked. “Well, it’s one of our favorites.”

  “Those are beautiful dogs,” Glenn noticed.

  “Yes,” Sister agreed. “Part Shepherd of some kind and part wolf. According to the diaries we found, they were from the same litter. The family stories say the dogs are the reason the two sisters found their perfect husbands. Even after our Lilibeth’s sister married a miner and moved to California, the diaries said sometimes Lilibeth swore she’d still see both dogs romping about on the prairie.”

  “Her sister moved to California?” Eileen asked.

  Sissy nodded.

  “And took the dog?” A strange idea was forming in the back of her mind. One of those dogs looked an awful lot like Gray and she’d bet her last dime that if she showed the photograph to Ethan and Allison, the other dog would bear a resemblance to the San Diego matchmaker. What were the odds that offspring of these two dogs were still wandering around today? She rolled back on her heels. Interesting indeed.

  “Don’t you look like the cat who swallowed the canary.” Glenn inched closer. “Care to share?”

  “It’s nothing, just nice to know some things never change.”

  ****

  “You look good,” Fancy whispered, still hanging onto her little sister. “The famous doctor,” she added.

  Allison coughed out a laugh and eased from the embrace. “Says the famous singer.”

  There was no missing the gentle way Ethan kept a protective hand on her sister.

  “Ethan,” Fancy eked out in a more even tone than she would have thought possible. After all, what does one say to the man whose baby she gave up?

  “Fancy,” he smiled. She definitely remembered that smile. And those eyes. How had she forgotten the eyes that had told her almost instantly this was a man she could trust. And they hadn’t lied. For four days he’d kept her safe and sane and though he didn’t know it, helped her get her head on straight for what might have been the first time in her life.

  She looked around the two. “You didn’t bring her?”

  Allison inched back, her hand reaching behind her and slipping easily into her husband’s grasp.

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “We thought it best that we talk first.”

  Yes. Of course. Long lost sister aside, now came the part that wouldn’t be easy. She turned her head and Garrett had come to stand only a foot or so behind her. “This is Garrett, the lead singer in the band.”

  A true southern gentleman, Garrett waited for Ethan to extend his hand. A true Texas gentleman, Ethan did just that.

  “And this,” she twisted around and pointed to her other band member eating breakfast, “is Rick. Best musician a group could ask for. If you need
an instrument played, he’s your guy.”

  Still shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could, Rick gave a quick wave and returned to his meal.

  Both Ethan and Allison waved back.

  “Did the entire band come?” Ethan asked.

  “No.” Garrett shook his head. “The others have families they wanted to spend the short break with.”

  Meg came out of the kitchen, kissed Allison on the cheek and then her brother-in-law, tipping her head toward a couple of lingering guests in the parlor. “May I suggest y’all make yourselves at home in our apartment.”

  Allison’s “Thank you” tumbled over Fancy’s “That won’t be necessary.”

  Meg’s brows rose with surprise, then regaining her composure, she flashed a brief smile. “Well, I have some paperwork to do. If you’ll excuse me.”

  The silence that hung for the next few moments was anything but comfortable. Fancy had so many things she wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask. Too many years had passed. She didn’t know where to begin.

  “Fancy talks about you all the time,” Garrett started, once he’d realized no one else was going to speak first. “I especially like the story about the dog and your aunt’s favorite scarf.”

  Allison almost choked on her own spit. “You remember that?”

  “Every minute of it.” Fancy smiled. “I thought you’d done a wonderful job of bandaging his paw. The colors matched Champ’s fur beautifully.”

  “Too bad Aunt Millicent didn’t agree with you.”

  “Every future doctor has to practice first aid on a patient somewhere. You picked a very loveable—”

  “And very patient,” Allison added.

  “Yes, and very patient,” Fancy concurred, “Golden Retriever to work on.”

  Another guest came down the stairs and made her way into the kitchen, politely smiling at the people huddling in the middle of the room. Maybe they should use Meg’s apartment. They needed to talk, the sooner the better, and in private made the most sense.

  Garrett inched a fraction closer, his hand hovering above her shoulder as though he were ready to knock someone clear across the room if they so much as threatened to invade her private space. Friend and protector, thank heaven for someone in her corner. “Is there a little coffee shop around here? Someplace we can talk in private?”