The Ghost of Christmas Secrets

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “You don’t seriously take that dog to work with you, do you?” Loyd asked.

  Once again kneeling by the crate, Chris opened the door and slipped the collar on the dog and then attached the leash. When the dog stepped out of the crate, Chris gave her the command to sit, to which she immediately complied.

  Leash in hand, Chris stood and looked at his uncles, Hunny sitting obediently by his side. “Yes, I take her everywhere with me. When I go to Marlow House, I normally take her—both Walt and Danielle are fond of her.”

  “But a pit bull? They can turn on you at any time,” Loyd said.

  “It’s how you raise them, Uncle Loyd.”

  “Why in the world would you even get a pit bull?” Simon asked. “If you wanted a companion, what’s wrong with something like a chihuahua?”

  “I initially bought her because I wanted a guard dog.” Chris glanced down at Hunny and noted the way she looked up at him, with her head cocked, panting, her tongue hanging lopsided out of her mouth, flopping around with every pant, and her dopy expression. Yeah, right, guard dog, Chris thought. A chihuahua might have made a more aggressive guard dog.

  “We’ve got to get rid of that dog,” Loyd told his brother as they drove from Chris’s house to the Glandon Foundation Headquarters. Chris had offered to take them in his car, but the uncles had insisted on taking their rental car, as they had some Christmas shopping to do after visiting the foundation headquarters.

  “I didn’t count on him having a dog. And certainly not a pit bull!” Simon said.

  “It would be nice if he was the one to get rid of it,” Loyd suggested. “If it was his idea. If the dog suddenly disappears or is poisoned, it could draw suspicion.”

  “I don’t see him voluntarily getting rid of it. Did you see how he babies it?”

  “But maybe if he thought it was dangerous.”

  “You heard him, Loyd. He called it a sweetheart.”

  “That’s what every dog owner says right before the family dog rips out their throat.”

  If Heather had known it was bring-your-annoying-uncles-to-work day, she would have called in sick. To begin with, she thought it was stupid of Chris keeping poor Hunny on a leash just because the old codgers were afraid of the dog.

  “What are you working on?”

  Heather looked up from her keyboard. It was the older uncle, smiling at her in a creepy old man sort of way.

  “I thought Chris was taking you on a tour?” she asked.

  Loyd sat down in the empty chair next to her desk, using one arm of the chair to brace himself while using the cane to steady his descent. “Pshaw, I’m not going to walk all those stairs. I’ll let Simon do that. I thought I would stay down here and keep you company.”

  Heather critically eyed the old man, finding him oddly friendly this afternoon, especially since he and his brother had made it perfectly clear the previous evening that they didn’t feel she was qualified to work for their nephew.

  “He did show me the kitchen. Looks like a kitchen you’d find in someone’s house, not in an office.”

  Heather shrugged. “This used to be someone’s home before Chris bought it.”

  “He even has a full wine rack in there. Does he always keep it fully stocked like that?”

  “I suppose.”

  Loyd eyed her for a moment and then whispered, “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Uhh…yeah…I guess.” Heather glanced toward the doorway leading to the hallway and thought Chris couldn’t get back downstairs fast enough to suit her.

  “My nephew has a little crush on you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you play your cards right, I think you might be calling me uncle in no time at all.”

  “What?” Heather frowned.

  Loyd chuckled. “Come on now, you can’t fool me. What young woman wouldn’t see what a catch my nephew is? Handsome boy, richer than Croesus.”

  “If you’re insinuating I’m after your nephew’s money—we’re not even dating!”

  “Oh no! I’m not insinuating you’re after Chris; I’m saying he’s crazy about you!”

  “No way.” Her frown deepened.

  “It’s true. Before breakfast today, Loyd and I were in the library at Marlow House, looking at those portraits, when Chris came in and told us he thought he had feelings for you. Said you might be the one. Of course, the boy is gun-shy because of what happened between him and Danielle.”

  “He told you about him and Danielle?”

  “Just that he was interested in her, thought she felt the same way, but she didn’t. You see, the problem here, Chris is interested in you, but after getting burned by Danielle, he’s not going to make the move. You’re going to have to do it. If you’re interested in my nephew, it’s going to be up to you to chase him.”

  “Chase him?”

  “It’s the only way. And if he doesn’t seem interested, don’t give up. Because I know he’s crazy about you; he told Simon and me so.”

  “So you’re saying Chris is interested in me, but because of Danielle, he won’t make the first move?”

  Loyd nodded. “Exactly.”

  “And if I do show an interest in him—let’s say show up with his favorite cookies—or buy him something special for Christmas—or start wearing provocative clothes around him, he will pretend he isn’t interested?”

  “Precisely. It’s up to you to keep pursuing him—if, of course, it’s what you want.”

  Heather stared at Loyd for a moment, a slow smile forming on her lips. She leaned toward him, patted his knee, and then whispered, “Thank you, Uncle Loyd; I will take your advice.”

  “I’m sorry if you’re annoyed at me for what happened at breakfast,” Marie said. “But, dear, for a minute there I seriously thought he saw something.”

  “Like I said earlier, maybe he did get a glimpse—which is why you shouldn’t be pushing it unless you want the Bishops to start telling everyone Marlow House is haunted when they leave.” Danielle sat in the parlor with Marie, Walt, and Eva. The Bishops had taken off about an hour after Chris left the house with his uncles.

  “Didn’t you always say a haunted house might be a good marketing strategy?” Walt teased.

  “It’s not so haunted since you joined my side,” Danielle reminded him.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Marie asked.

  “Not to mention we have been seeing Eva more these days,” Walt reminded her. “Although I suspect she spends more time with our neighbor down the street.”

  “It’s only because the view is so much better down there,” Eva said with a wink.

  “Should I be insulted?” Walt teased.

  Eva flashed Walt a smile and then said, “If I did decide to settle in one place, I do believe I could pull off quite a spectacular haunt.”

  The next moment the doorbell rang.

  “Do you think that’s one of your guests?” Eva asked.

  “I doubt it, they all have keys.” Danielle walked over to the window and peeked outside. “It’s Heather. I wonder why she isn’t at work.”

  When Danielle opened the front door a few minutes later, Heather marched in without saying hello, pushing past Danielle. “We need to talk.”

  “Uhh…okay…is everything alright?” Danielle shut the door and watched as Heather anxiously paced the entry.

  She abruptly stopped and turned to Danielle. “Is Eva or Marie here?”

  “Umm…yeah, but how did you know?”

  “I figured they would be here if they weren’t with Chris—which they aren’t. Those two spirits are the nosiest things, and I know they have been dying to check out Chris’s wacky family.”

  “I wouldn’t say dying exactly. After all, they’re both already dead.”

  Heather flashed Danielle her signature don’t-be-stupid glare and then without a hint of humor said, “Haha.”

  Danielle shrugged and said, “They’re in the parlor with Walt.”

  Heather turned abruptly and marched to
the parlor, Danielle trailing behind her. Once in the room, she looked at the two spirits and Walt and said, “Do you know Chris has a secret crush on me?”

  Silence. They all stared at Heather.

  “Oh yes. It’s true. He’s mad for me, but Danielle left him damaged, so I need to pursue him.”

  More silence. Danielle and Walt exchanged glances, as did Eva and Marie.

  “Did you all know?”

  Marie started to say something, but Heather cut her off.

  “You didn’t know, I didn’t know, and do you know why that is?” Heather asked.

  Danielle started to say something, but Heather cut her off too.

  “It’s because it isn’t true!” Heather flounced to the sofa and flopped down, kicking off her shoes.

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Walt asked.

  Heather glanced around the room, making brief eye contact with each person—and each ghost. “For some reason, Chris’s crazy uncle wants me to believe Chris has a secret thing for me, and he encouraged me to pursue him. I know the jerk doesn’t like me, so what is he up to?”

  Danielle walked to the sofa and sat down next to Heather. “Maybe you can fill in the pieces a bit. What exactly are you talking about?”

  Heather let out a sigh and then recounted her conversation with Loyd at the Glandon Foundation Headquarters office twenty minutes earlier.

  “I was in the library when they were looking at those portraits and Chris came in. I heard the entire conversation and, well—they never discussed you,” Eva said.

  Heather’s smile widened. “Chris called me after he left his house to tell me he was on his way over to the office and bringing his uncles. He told me about breakfast here this morning and how both Marie and Eva had been here. I figured, if he had talked to his uncles this morning in the library, as dear old Uncle Loyd claimed, I was fairly certain one of you might have overheard the conversation. I didn’t believe him for a minute—but he is an old dude, and I wasn’t sure if maybe Chris said something about me, and he took it wrong.”

  “But you weren’t mentioned at all,” Eva said.

  “Which means the old coot didn’t misunderstand something Chris said—he made the entire thing up,” Heather said.

  “But why?” Walt asked.

  “Could it be the uncle is simply playing matchmaker?” Marie asked.

  “Which would prove he hates Chris,” Heather said with a snort.

  “That’s kind of a harsh thing to say about yourself,” Danielle said.

  Heather turned to Danielle and rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, we were both at Pearl Cove. Those old dudes thought I was some sort of freak. And they made it clear they didn’t think I was qualified for my job. No, there is something else going on here, I just don’t know what.”

  Twenty-Three

  Heather picked up her cellphone and looked at the time. “I guess I should get going. Chris thinks I’m out picking up sandwiches from the deli. They’re probably wondering what happened to me.” In spite of saying she was leaving, Heather remained on the sofa, making no attempt to stand up.

  “What are you going to do?” Danielle asked.

  “When I can get Chris alone, I’ll have to tell him what his crazy uncle Loyd said.” Heather dropped her cellphone in her purse.

  “I don’t care for the man, but he seems more contrary than senile to me,” Marie noted. “Which makes me wonder, what was the point of him fabricating such a story?”

  “Personally, I think he was hoping I’d act on it and get my butt fired,” Heather said. “You know, start coming on to Chris.”

  Danielle nodded. “I suspect you’re right.”

  Heather looked to Danielle. “To be honest, there was a little part of me that was terrified the old coot was telling the truth.”

  “And having Chris interested in you would be so horrible?” Eva asked.

  “What would be so horrible is realizing I had totally misread him,” Heather said. “I may not be able to read people accurately when I first meet them. To be honest, when I first met Chris, I thought he was some freeloader who’d skated through life on his good looks.”

  “I remember when we first met, you accused me of stealing your cat,” Danielle teased.

  Heather rolled her eyes at Danielle and continued with her train of thought. “But after I get to know someone, after I’m around them a while, I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character.”

  “As I recall, you lived under the same roof with Chris, and you thought he’d murdered Peter Morris,” Walt reminded her.

  Narrowing her eyes, Heather glared at Walt and let out a grunt, reminding Danielle of an angry cartoon character with steam coming out of her ears. While there was no steam, Danielle figured if it had been possible, there would be.

  “Okay, okay,” Heather sputtered. “Sometimes I really suck at judging people. But if I had misread Chris in this instance, well, then I obviously sucked more than I thought.”

  “Don’t get upset,” Danielle said gently. “We were only teasing. And the truth is, we’re all guilty of judging people unfairly—either we give them too much credit or not enough.”

  Heather stood up and dug a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to Danielle. “Could you do me a favor and call in this order for the deli?”

  Danielle glanced down at the paper before taking it. “No problem. I’ll put it under your name.”

  “Thanks.” Heather started for the door. Just as she reached it, she looked back and added, “Thanks. I’m glad I had someone to talk to.”

  “I wonder what Chris is going to say when you tell him,” Eva mused. “I warned him not to give them a second chance.”

  Heather grinned. “Before I tell him, I think I’ll have a little fun. Let him know how wonderful he is, while his uncles are standing there.”

  “When you say wonderful…exactly what do you mean?” Danielle asked.

  Heather laughed. “I meant it in the true spirit of the word. I’ll bat my eyes a bit, let him know I think he’s hot.” She giggled and left the room, giving everyone a final wave as she went.

  “I almost think we should warn poor Chris,” Walt said with a chuckle.

  It was less than a week until Christmas, and Adam couldn’t get in to the holiday spirit. To him Christmas wasn’t Christmas without his grandmother’s homemade divinity and peanut brittle—or without his grandmother. He found it difficult to believe it had been over a year now—two Christmases, since Marie had been murdered.

  Marie had never been the grandmother who baked homemade cookies. She didn’t like to bake, or to cook in general. He suspected one reason she disliked cooking was because of all those years she had been married to his grandfather, and he had demanded three meals a day—breakfast, lunch and dinner, that he had expected his wife to make.

  However, one thing Marie did enjoy making—occasionally—was candy. Specifically, divinity and peanut brittle, recipes passed down to her from her mother. Which was why Adam had decided several days earlier that if he was to get into the Christmas spirit, he needed to carry on with the family tradition and make Marie’s divinity and peanut brittle. After all, he had her recipes.

  What Adam hadn’t realized—divinity was a bitch to make. He’d had no idea it was so difficult. After two failed batches, he finally went to the internet looking for helpful tips. While the peanut brittle turned out close to his grandmother’s, the final batch of divinity, while edible, didn’t resemble Marie’s.

  Now that he had all this homemade candy, he needed to disperse some Christmas cheer. The first stop was the Glandon Foundation Headquarters.

  Adam entered the foundation office carrying a large Christmas tin. He found Chris sitting in the waiting area with two older men, Hunny sleeping by his side. The moment he entered, Hunny lifted her head and looked at Adam; her tail started to wag.

  “Merry Christmas!” Adam greeted them. Hunny jumped up and ran to Adam, her tail still wagging. Adam reached down and
scratched the back of Hunny’s ears.

  Chris introduced Adam to his uncles, referring to him as his good friend and Realtor. After introductions were made, Adam handed Chris the candy.

  Tin now in hand, Chris asked, “What’s this?”

  “Homemade Christmas candy. Grandma’s recipes.”

  Chris perked up. “Please tell me, her divinity?”

  “Yeah, well, I gave it my best shot. Like six times. It’s not bad, but not Grandma’s.”

  “I thought you just said it was her recipe,” Chris asked.

  “Apparently, using the same recipe is no guarantee it will taste the same,” Adam grumbled.

  “I’d try some now, but we’re waiting for Heather to come back with our lunch,” Chris said as he set the tin on his desk.

  The four men exchanged small talk for a few minutes when Loyd told Adam, “It’s really nice to meet one of our nephew’s friends.”

  “Chris has a lot of friends in Frederickport,” Adam told them.

  “You have no idea how proud we are of this boy,” Loyd said, reaching over and patting Chris’s knee. By Chris’s expression he seemed surprised at his uncle’s gesture.

  “He’s a tribute to our family,” Simon said. “His parents would be so proud of him.”

  “We realize now how foolish we were, believing we were protecting Chris from himself by trying to manage his father’s legacy. He’s more than capable of handling it himself.”

  Before anyone could respond, Heather came barreling through the door into the waiting area, deli paper sacks in hand. She stopped short when she spied Adam. “Oh, I didn’t bring you a sandwich.”

  “Probably because you didn’t know I was going to be here,” Adam teased.

  Heather shrugged. “You want half of mine?”

  Adam shook his head. “No, thanks. I already had lunch.” He stood and glanced at his watch. “In fact, I need to get going. I have another stop to make. And, Heather, make sure Chris shares the candy with you; it’s for you too.” He pointed to the Christmas tin sitting on the desk.

  A few minutes later, as Heather handed out the sandwiches and beverages, Chris walked Adam to the door. When they were out of earshot from the uncles, Adam asked, “Hey, Chris, can I ask you something?”