Merry, Merry Ghost (6 page)

Gina leaned against the wall. “Where’s the problem? You’re sleeping in the blue room tonight with the little guy. Lucky me, Susan obviously has never noticed my maternal charm.” Her laughter was wry. “You’ll probably be named nanny-in-chief when she writes a new will. You could spend a bunch before he gets to twenty-one, maybe take him to Paris over holidays.”

Peg slammed the drawer shut. She quickly undressed, neatly hanging up a blue sweater and gray wool slacks.

“I wish you didn’t sound so bitter.”

“It doesn’t bother you to go from heiress to pauper in the space of one cold December night?” Gina’s voice shook a little. “One minute you’re looking ahead to a couple of million and maybe you get your art history degree and end up with a job in a museum that won’t pay enough to keep a mouse in cheese. The next you’re out in the cold world, the real cold world, like I am. It isn’t easy to get jobs these days. How are you going to pay back your student loans?”

“I’ll manage.” Peg’s gaze was thoughtful. “How are you going to pay off your credit cards? You don’t even have a job.”

“I’m trying to get one. I’ve sent in résumés and stood in lines and filled out applications online until I’m cross-eyed. There’s nothing out there, and I’m down to my last fifty bucks. I got evicted from my apartment and I canceled my cell because I got so many calls from collection agencies. Nasty calls. I’m using a prepaid cell.” Gina gave a last puff, snuffed the cigarette in a potted plant. She flapped a magazine to fan the air, then closed the window. “Speaking of calls, have you buzzed Dave?”

Peg paused as she buttoned the pajama top. “No.”

“Don’t you think he’d like to know the latest? He’s really pumped that Susan’s considering advancing him enough to build a clinic.” Gina strolled to a love seat, dropped onto it.

Peg’s voice was even. “We don’t know the latest. We’ll have to see what Wade says. Besides, Susan knows a good investment when she sees one. The money will be a loan.”

Gina’s expression was sardonic. “A loan he sure couldn’t get from the bank these days. It’s a big gamble to come out of vet school and waltz right into a fancy clinic of his own. Susan used to be a sharp businesswoman, always driving a hard bargain. After all, she’s a Pritchard. She may start making decisions based on what would be best for Keith.”

“The loan to Dave would be a sound business decision.” But Peg’s voice was thin.

Peg snapped off the
light, after a last check of the sleeping child. She stepped softly to the other twin bed, slipped beneath the covers. Moonlight gave the room a quality of shimmering water. Peg plumped the pillow behind her. I wasn’t certain but I thought she lay staring into the darkness, perhaps watching the shifting pattern of stark tree limbs against the far wall.

I sat at the end of the chaise longue. I was aware of the deepening chill of the room. Several quilts were stacked atop a wicker chest. I intended to snag one after Peg fell asleep.

She moved restlessly.

Perhaps she sensed my unseen but admittedly impatient presence. I would give her time to relax. I’d promised myself a satisfying sandwich. I decided to make sure everyone was settled for the night and I could have free use of the kitchen.

In Gina’s room, she once again stood by the wide-open window, blowing smoke into the night. Her scarlet robe would have been flattering to her gypsy dark coloring, but her sharp features were drawn in a tight frown.

Jake rested against a bolster and two large pillows. Her faded blond hair was pinned in protuberant tufts. A white mask of night cream covered her face but didn’t hide the droop of her mouth. She held an open book in her hands, but she stared blankly at the page.

Susan sat in her chair by the fake fire, the manila envelope in her lap. She lifted a cup of cocoa, absently sipped. Her patrician features were alight with happiness.

Since everyone was safely upstairs, I turned on every light in the kitchen. Have I mentioned the light in Heaven? You’ll be amazed, bright as gold, lustrous as pearls, clear as a limpid pool of aquamarine water.

Electricity can’t compete, but the bright glow in the kitchen was cheerful. I’d grown up in a similar kitchen with a wrought-iron lamp fixture, white-painted wooden cabinets, an old gas range (any cook can tell you that cooking on gas is far superior), hardwood floor, painted wooden spice rack, pots and pans hanging from hooks on one wall, a long wooden table with a half dozen chairs, lace curtains on the window, and a back door with Victorian glass.

The calico cat rose from her cushion and ambled toward me, head lifted in hope.

I dropped down and petted her. “I don’t know where they keep your food but I’ll share some roast beef with you.”

A purr rumbled deep in her throat.

It was not only a homey kitchen, there was plenty of good food. I made a thick sandwich of roast beef on homemade wheat bread. I provided several curls of roast beef to the cat. “Here, Duchess, we’ll both have a feast.” I ended with a dish of chocolate ice cream, then washed up, returning everything to its place.

I was rewarded when I returned to the blue room. Peg’s breathing was even and deep. As I drifted into sleep, I carried with me the memory of Susan Flynn drinking cocoa and looking ahead to happy days with a little towheaded boy.

I love waking up
, grasping after the last tendrils of a pleasant dream, welcoming the first silky awareness of a new day. I rolled over on my elbow. My quilt was bunched into a soft heap at the foot of the chaise longue.

Sun spilled bright as pirate’s gold through the east windows. I shivered and pulled the quilt higher. The clock on the table between the twin beds read shortly after seven.

Bedsprings creaked. Chestnut brown hair tousled, yawning sleepily, Peg lifted her head from the pillow and looked toward the opposite twin bed.

Stealthily, I drew up the quilt and folded it.

Peg’s gaze shifted as I placed the quilt at the foot of the chaise longue. She gave the quilt a puzzled glance, shook her head, and turned back toward Keith.

The small form beneath the covers lay unmoving, head tucked beneath the pillow.

Easing to her feet, Peg slipped into pink house slippers. She stretched, brushed a hand through her curls, then tiptoed softly toward the door.

As it closed behind her, the covers moved. Cautiously, Keith emerged. He stared at the door, his thin face anxious, his body rigid.

Poor baby. He was scared to pieces.

I darted a look at the door. Peg surely wouldn’t be back immediately. Probably she’d gone to see about Keith’s breakfast.

With a defiant nod Heavenward, I swirled into being. I liked being here. I wanted to see myself in a mirror, hear my footsteps on the wooden floor. The image in the mirror was satisfactory, my green eyes bright and cheerful, my red curls tidy enough. This morning’s turtleneck was white, my wool slacks red, my boots white. I hurried to Keith.

He drew back as far as he could.

I gave him a sharp salute. “Good morning, Keith. I’m Jerrie.” I didn’t think St. Jerome Emiliani, the patron saint of orphans, would mind if I used a version of his name. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so we can play. Do you like to sing in the morning?” I didn’t wait for an answer but began to sing “Jingle Bells,”

throwing in a few lyrics of my own devising: Keith is here, Keith is here, what fun we’ll have today…

The rigidity eased from his small frame. He began to smile.

“Let’s pick our favorite things to do. I like to giggle and I’ll bet you do, too. Have you ever seen a cross-eyed frog dancing on a stage?”

A tiny smile curved his lips.

“Or an octopus with the hiccups?”

He looked at me uncertainly. “Ogpus?”

“Oh”—I threw up my arms—“you haven’t seen anything funny until you’ve seen an octopus with the hiccups. Octopi—that’s more than one octopus—live in the ocean in caves. They have big sleek heads and lots and lots of arms. An octopus with the hiccups waves his arms every which way.” I flopped my arms. “If an octopus—not having the hiccups, of course—came to see you, do you know what he’d do?”

He watched me with huge eyes.

I sat down on the bed and wrapped my arms gently around him. “That octopus would give you one hug, two, three, and then he’d take his other arms—he has lots of them—and hug and hug and maybe even give a tiny tickle.”

In a minute he was giggling and twisting.

When we stopped to smile at each other, his eyes were shining.

“Now, let’s look in your suitcase and I’ll help you get dressed. I’ll bet Peg has gone to fix you some breakfast. We’ll go downstairs and surprise her.”

I found fresh underwear, a thin long-sleeved shirt dull from many washes, and a pair of jeans that were too short. When he was dressed, I took his hand. “Let’s pretend we are on a breakfast safari. A safari is when…”

I remembered to disappear as we opened the door and started down the dim hallway. I’d enjoyed being there.

Invisibility has its advantages but it was nicer to actually be on the ground. When I’m not here, I feel insubstantial.

At the stairs, Keith shook off my hand and started down, one steep step at a time, chubby fingers sliding from baluster to baluster. I was poised to grab him should he misjudge.

A door clicked shut.

I whirled. The hallway behind me was unrevealing, every door closed.

Someone had looked out, seen Keith walk past.

There had been no greeting.

Keith was midway down the stairs. He looked small, his short legs stretching to reach the tread. If he fell…

I shook away a sense of foreboding and hurried after him.

Peg turned in surprise when we reached the kitchen. There was a welcome smell of bacon and eggs. She beamed at Keith. “Aren’t you the big guy to dress all by yourself.”

He shook his head. “Jerrie helped me.” He pointed straight at me, but of course, only he could see me.

Peg slowly nodded. “I see.” Obviously she didn’t. “You have an imaginary friend. That’s very nice.” She turned roughly in my direction and gave a formal bow. “Good morning, Jerrie. I’ll set a place for you, too.”

Peg dished up bacon and toast and scrambled eggs for Jerrie’s plate.

She fixed French toast as well and took time to open a can of tuna fish cat food for the calico. “Here you go, Duchess.” By the time she turned back, Jerrie’s plate was empty.

Peg’s eyes widened. “My goodness, Keith, you are really hungry this morning!”

I smiled at him.

Keith smiled back, an impish, lively, pleased grin.

Footsteps thudded from the hallway. The door burst open. “Can you set an extra place?” Tucker’s grin was disarming. Today he wore a thick red cotton pullover with Levi’s and boots. His cheeks still sported a fuzz of beard. “You remember I promised to pick you guys up first thing? Gina, of course, is taking forever to get dressed.”

I wondered if the house was rarely locked or if he had a key.

Peg licked a smudge of powdered sugar from the back of one hand. “I’d completely forgotten. You and Gina go on without me. I need to take Keith shopping, get him a warm coat. You don’t need my help to pick out the tree.”

I looked from one to the other, puzzled. The Scotch pine in the living room was beautifully decorated. I am partial to taffeta bows on Christmas trees.

“Bacon, eggs, and French toast coming up.” She turned back to the range.

“I’m your man.” He pulled up a chair opposite Keith. “Hey, buckaroo, I brought you something special.”

Keith put down his fork, his thin face eager.

Tucker made an elaborate show of reaching into his pocket and pulling out a soft leather pouch. He held it up. “Can you guess what’s inside?”

His face solemn, Keith shook his head.

Tucker leaned forward, spoke in a stage whisper. “You’ve heard of buried treasure?”

Keith’s dark eyes widened.

“Buckaroo, here is a treasure just for you and you can spend it for special things you want.” Tucker loosed the drawstrings, upended the bag. Plastic gold coins tumbled free, creating a pile that looked for all the world like a pirate’s hoard. “Now, here’s what you do. You think about things you’d like to have—maybe a Matchbox car or a spyglass or a cowboy hat—and you tell Cousin Tuck. I’ll find whatever it is or the next best thing and you can give me however many coins you think it’s worth.” Tucker held out a big hand. “Is that a deal, buckaroo?”

Laughing, Peg set a filled plate before Tucker. “It sounds like you’re trying to turn Keith into a little trader.”

Tucker finished a piece of bacon. “It’s in the blood. It didn’t matter what we were trading, comic books or girls’ phone numbers, Mitch always won.”

Duchess walked majestically to the kitchen door, meowed, lifted a paw.

Peg laughed. “Coming, Your Majesty.” She hurried to the back door.

Tucker gave Keith a swift glance. “Looks like it’s happened again.” His voice was low. His expression as he stared at Keith was suddenly bleak.

The door creaked and Peg didn’t hear his words. Cold air flowed inside.

In the imperious way of cats, Duchess remained in place, tail flicking.

“Come on, Duchess.” Peg tried to shoo the calico forward.

Duchess gave her a gimlet stare, then stepped outside.

The door clicked shut.

I remembered the earlier sound of a closing door in the upper hallway. I’d watched a little boy at the top of steep stairs and felt a rush of fear. In this warm and cheerful kitchen, Keith seemed utterly safe.

It was my job to be certain he remained safe.

CHAP
TER FOUR

G
ina rushed into the kitchen. Her black cashmere turtleneck emphasized the rich plum of slacks that flared wide at the bottom.

I really liked that style, the low snug fit over the hips and a saucy front tie. I’d have to find out what the slacks were called. They were certainly distinctive enough to have a name.

Gina’s gaze jerked to the counter near the stove and a tray covered with a fine damask napkin. Some of the tension eased from her thin face. “I’ll take Susan’s breakfast up.”