Haunting Danielle 28 The Ghost and the Birthday Boy

by Bobbi Holmes

  “I’m interested in purchasing property in Frederickport,” John began.

  Adam smiled. “Ahh, I heard you were coming to town later this month. Are you looking for investment property or vacation property? If it’s vacation property, you can always put it in my program and earn some income when you aren’t using it.”

  “First, I need you to promise me something, Adam.”

  Adam furrowed his brow, still holding the receiver to his right ear. “Sure, what?”

  “This transaction has to be confidential. I don’t want Ian to know about it. Not that we’re keeping it from him forever, but it’s more of a surprise.”

  “You’re buying property for Ian?” Adam asked.

  John laughed. “No. But I’d rather he not find out until we’re ready to tell him.”

  “I respect my clients’ privacy.”

  “Good. I saw a piece of property in Frederickport; they listed it today. It won’t last. I want to make an offer,” John told him.

  Adam’s grin broadened. “Certainly. Can you give me the address?” Adam reached for his computer’s mouse and quickly brought up the local MLS site on his computer.

  After John gave him the address, Adam punched it in the search box. But before he finished typing in the address, he realized what property John wanted.

  Crap, Adam said to himself. “Um… can I ask what you intend to do with it?” Adam choked out.

  “Again, say nothing to my son—or to anyone. My wife and I intend to move to Frederickport. In fact, we’ve already sold our home here. The movers are coming in a few days to pack up our house and put everything in storage. When we arrive in Frederickport this month, we are moving there. We want to build our forever home on the property.”

  Four

  Holding the phone to his ear, Adam momentarily closed his eyes and cringed. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m familiar with the property.”

  “Great. But unless the listing’s wrong and I can’t build a house on it, I’ll want to make an offer tonight,” John insisted.

  “I’ll tell you what I know about it. Marymoor Sanatorium was on that site. It was closed years before I was born, just boarded up and fenced. The buildings burned down when I was a kid. The city owns the property. Over the years there was talk of building a park on the site, but that never materialized, and a couple of times they tried to sell it,” Adam explained.

  “What was Marymoor Sanatorium?” John asked.

  “My grandma used to say it wasn’t really a sanatorium, it was an insane asylum. They named it for the guy who donated the property, but I guess he didn’t want it called Marymoor Insane Asylum. But he had enough ego that he still wanted his name attached for posterity, so they went with Marymoor Sanatorium,” Adam explained.

  “Why do you think it never sold before? Is there some illegal fill on the property, some environmental problem that needs to be cleaned up?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, but I would definitely recommend inspections. But the reason for it not selling, probably the ghost stories.”

  “Ghost stories?” John asked.

  “People say it’s haunted,” Adam explained.

  John laughed.

  “I’m serious. There have been numerous unexplained events on the site over the years.”

  “Do you believe it’s haunted?” John snickered.

  “I just know strange things have occurred over there. For example, after it burned down, it took over a year to clean up the site. Accidents kept happening. In fact, one guy who works for me—I’ve known him for years—his father worked on the site after the fire. He broke his leg when he was working. He said someone pushed him off a ladder, but he was alone,” Adam explained.

  John laughed again. “I’ve been in construction for years. Accidents happen. But I have to say, I never had a ghost show up on one of my job sites.”

  “Not saying it’s actually haunted.” Adam felt stupid. “But because of random events over the years, it’s earned something of a reputation that it’s cursed. I suspect that’s why it hasn’t sold. If you wanted to resell the property later, it might be difficult because of its reputation.”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts. And this will be our last home. So resale value is not an issue. But I believe in inspections. I’m more concerned about someone illegally dumping on the site, or issues left over after the building burned down. I definitely want to include inspections in the offer.”

  “You ready to go?” a cheerful voice asked from the open doorway.

  Adam looked up to find Melony smiling in his direction.

  With a sigh, Adam said, “I can’t leave. I’m writing an offer for someone. He wants to do it tonight.”

  Melony frowned and walked all the way into Adam’s office. To a stranger, Melony might look like a fashion model as opposed to her true profession, a skilled criminal attorney. “You don’t look thrilled about writing an offer. What’s wrong, is your potential buyer lowballing?”

  Now at Adam’s desk, Melony sat on its edge instead of taking one of the empty chairs. While listening for his answer, she snatched the abandoned ring box off the desk and opened it.

  When Adam saw what she held, he asked in a soft voice, “Have you decided?” His dark black eyes studied Melony as he ignored her initial question.

  Before Melony answered, a third party entered the office. The spirit of Adam’s grandmother, Marie Nichols, hovered over the desk, the image of the elderly woman wearing a floral-print dress and a straw garden hat. “What are you two up to?” Marie chirped to deaf ears. Neither Adam nor Melony could see or hear Marie.

  “I already said I would marry you,” Melony said with a grin. “Isn’t that the important part?”

  “You’re getting married!” Marie exclaimed. “Oh, how exciting!”

  “What about the ring?” Adam asked, his eyes still focused on her as she casually perched on his desk’s edge.

  “It is beautiful,” she said with a wistful sigh.

  “We can get it resized to fit your finger,” Adam said.

  “You’re giving her the Winterborne ring!” Marie studied the ring.

  Melony looked at Adam. “This is crazy. You should sell it. It’s worth a fortune.”

  “Don’t sell it,” Marie said, now sitting on an imaginary chair nearby.

  “If you don’t want to accept an engagement ring that was given to me, I understand,” Adam began.

  “It’s not that!” Melony insisted. “It’s not uncommon to get a ring that was handed down in a family. And while this didn’t come from someone in your family, it actually has a better story.”

  “So is that a yes?” Adam grinned. “You want to make the Winterborne engagement ring the Nichols engagement ring?”

  “Adam, you could sell this and buy half a dozen beautiful engagement rings.” Melony removed the ring from the small velvet-lined box and held it in one hand, inspecting it.

  “I don’t know about it buying that many engagement rings. But why would you want that many rings, anyway?” Adam teased.

  Melony grinned at Adam. “You know what I mean.”

  “Oh, Adam, you’re so sweet,” Marie cooed.

  Adam returned Melony’s grin.

  Melony studied Adam for a moment before saying, “We’ve known each other for a long time. And frankly I’m surprised you’d want to give it to me.”

  Adam frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Melony shrugged. “The Adam I know just wouldn’t spend a fortune on an engagement ring.”

  Adam laughed. “I didn’t spend anything on it. So I guess I’m exactly the Adam you know.”

  “Come on, you have to understand what I’m saying.”

  Adam let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair. He watched as Melony tried the ring on her left ring finger. It fit loosely.

  “I guess I do,” Adam admitted. “There was a time I would have been all about finding a buyer.”

  Melony looked from the ring to Adam. “What
changed?”

  “When Grandma died and I inherited most of her estate, I realized I wasn’t wealthy like Chris, but I was doing pretty damn good.”

  Melony laughed. “Adam, you were doing good before your grandma died.”

  “Yes, he was,” Marie agreed. “I don’t think Adam ever gave himself enough credit.”

  “I suppose. But the thing was, after getting that big fat inheritance, it suddenly dawned on me how sometimes a windfall—or treasure—isn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth losing Grandma.”

  “Oh, Adam…” Marie wanted to cry.

  “I suddenly understood Danielle a little better,” Adam continued. “Heck, I was close to Grandma, but Danielle had all sorts of issues with her cousin Cheryl, yet after Cheryl died, I believe Danielle would have gladly given up the inheritance to bring her back. And when Danielle gave me that frame, knowing what was probably inside, she found value in something beyond its monetary worth. Maybe just whatever fun she would get watching me open it; I’m not sure.”

  “Wow, you are getting philosophical,” Melony mused.

  “You have really grown up in the last few years,” Marie noted. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Adam shrugged. “Perhaps. But I figure that ring is outstanding. It’s legally mine. Legally mine to give to anyone I want. And like Danielle, who felt there was more value in whatever pleasure she had in giving it to me than what she could sell it for, I feel the same way. But only if it is something you’d want.”

  Melony looked at the ring and smiled. “Oh hell, I really love it.” Melony leaned closer to Adam and kissed him. When the kiss ended, she jumped off the desk, removed the ring from her finger, and put it back in the box. After telling Adam she would get it sized before wearing it, she asked him how long he was going to need to prepare the offer. With that question, Adam groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Melony asked.

  “I almost forgot about the offer.”

  Melony glanced at her watch. “I can come back and pick you up. How much time do you need?”

  “The problem is, I really feel uncomfortable about his offer.”

  Melony frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Promise not to say anything to anyone. This is about client confidentiality.”

  “Um, so does this mean you shouldn’t say anything to me either?” Melony asked.

  “Well, technically, the client said he didn’t want me to tell Ian. He said nothing about not telling my fiancée.”

  “What does Ian have to do with it?” Melony asked.

  Excited to share the news about Adam’s engagement with Eva, Marie was about to leave when Adam began telling Melony about the offer he was supposed to write for a client. When he mentioned Ian’s name, she lingered to hear the rest of the story.

  Adam pointed to one chair and suggested Melony sit down. After she did, he told her about the phone call from Ian’s father.

  “I feel funny not telling Ian about this,” Adam said after telling her about the offer. “If it were any other piece of property…”

  “You can’t violate your client-agent confidentiality. And he did expressly ask you not to say anything,” Melony reminded him. “Is this because it’s the Marymoor site?”

  “Of course,” Adam said. “I remember a conversation we once had at a barbeque at Chris’s. You were there. I was teasing Danielle about all her treasures. Someone brought up the Marymoor property. I think it was Heather…”

  “Ahh yes,” Melony cut in. “Heather asked, if you won a prize and the prize was the Marymoor property, would you accept it?”

  “Lily was the one who most emphatically said no way. She said if one of us won the property and built a house on it, don’t expect her to visit. Ian agreed with her.”

  “I have to agree with her, too,” Marie muttered. “Not a good place to build a home. And did I understand that correctly, Ian’s parents intend to move to Frederickport?” With a frown, Marie disappeared.

  “Unfortunately, you can’t say anything to Ian,” Melony said.

  “Ian won’t be happy.”

  “Adam, if it were any other property, would you have an issue selling it without telling Ian?” Melony asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Remember, those are just old stories. Ian’s father was right. Accidents are common on construction sites.”

  “You don’t think there’s any reason for my concern?”

  “I imagine you would feel different if you didn’t believe those ghost stories yourself,” Melony said.

  Adam frowned. “I don’t believe in the ghost stories.”

  “Come on, be honest. You still let that place get to you, and now it’s impacting how you do business. I say write up the offer, submit it, and if he has an inspection contingency, he can back out. Your fiduciary duty is to represent your client to the best of your ability. And after you submit the offer, you and I can go over to the Marymoor site.”

  “Why would we do that?” Adam frowned.

  “To readjust your perspective on the property. You can put your childhood fears to rest and stop worrying about keeping this from Ian. Once you see for yourself it is simply a vacant lot, with no ghost or goblins lurking around, you can do your job without feeling guilty.”

  Five

  Pier Café had a new cook, and word around Frederickport, his clam chowder rivaled Pearl Cove’s. Eager to take the taste test and too lazy to cook dinner, Danielle and Walt walked to Pier Café early Monday evening. When they arrived, they found the diner crowded, with not an empty table, booth, or place at the counter. Walt put their name on the waiting list as he and Danielle sat in the lobby, waiting patiently for an opening.

  “I wonder if they’re short on staff tonight,” Danielle whispered to Walt. She watched as Carla the server dashed from table to table, her pink and purple hair looking as frazzled as the rest of her.

  Leaning back on the small wooden bench, his arm casually draped around Danielle’s shoulders, Walt looked briefly to Carla. “I don’t see another server. Of course, one might be in the back.” Walt glanced around the diner. When doing so, he spied their neighbor Pearl Huckabee sitting alone in a booth, reading the menu.

  Walt gently nudged Danielle and said, “Pearl’s over there, all alone in a booth. Should we ask if we can join her?”

  “Yeah, right,” Danielle said with a snort. Turning her attention back to Carla, she cringed as Carla attempted to juggle over six dinner plates. “Oh, Carla, be careful,” Danielle muttered.

  Across the café, Pearl Huckabee closed her menu and set it on the table. Glancing around, looking for a server, she spied her neighbors, Walt and Danielle Marlow, sitting together on a bench in the front lobby. The pair stared across the room in the other direction, and by Danielle’s expression—the way she cringed and brought her hand to her mouth as if gasping in surprise while grabbing ahold of her husband’s wrist—piqued Pearl’s curiosity.

  She looked to see what had captured the Marlows’ attention. It was Carla, awkwardly making her way across the dining room while trying to balance multiple plates of food along her arms. As a frequent customer of Pier Café—and of Carla’s—Pearl had never seen Carla attempt to carry so many dishes at once. The way the server wobbled uneasily from side to side, along with her expression, Pearl suspected Carla regretted the decision to take on so many dinner plates at one time.

  Fascinated at the sight, Pearl found herself unable to look away, while holding her breath, waiting for Carla to reach her destination. Just as Carla was about two feet from a table of eight, all of whom were busily chatting, waiting for their food and not noticing the approaching server, one plate slipped from Carla’s grasp. Carla froze and watched in horror as the plate of food began falling to the floor. Yet to her surprise, instead of falling, the plate froze for a moment in midair, losing not a single french fry, while it righted itself and then gently floated over to the table, landing as easily as if Carla had set it there. Those sitting at the table assumed the
server had placed the plate on the table.

  Pearl’s eyes widened in surprise. Not only had the customers at the table not been paying attention, none of the customers at the nearby tables seemed to have seen what had just happened. Looking back to Walt and Danielle, curious to see their reaction, Pearl found it odd that the pair, who continued to stare in Carla’s direction, did not wear expressions of surprise. Instead, they leaned back on the bench and looked relieved. Danielle laughed and leaned over and gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Pearl furrowed her brow, still staring at the Marlows.

  “I still think we should wait until it’s dark,” Melony told Adam. The two sat in Melony’s car, parked in front of the For Sale sign at the Marymoor property. She glanced at her watch. It was almost six thirty. It wouldn’t be dark for over an hour.

  “It’s dinnertime, that’s night to me,” Adam grumbled.

  “But the point in doing this is to prove to you there is nothing to any of those stories,” Melony insisted. “Nothing but urban legend. Then you can stop stressing over this offer.”

  Adam looked to Melony and asked, “So the toilet paper flying out of your hands over at the Barr property was nothing but urban legend, too?”

  Melony frowned at Adam. The last time she had thought about that was when Danielle had asked her what had happened at the Barr house, those many years ago, when Melony was still in high school.

  “It’s not the same thing,” Melony said. “I’m sure it was the wind that knocked those toilet paper rolls from our hands and blew them to the barn. I was young back then, an overactive imagination. Just like the stories about Marymoor. Young people have overactive imaginations, and stories get told and retold over the years until they take on a life of their own. Our memories are not always reliable. That’s something I’ve learned as a defense attorney. We look back at things that happened when we were kids, but did they really happen just as we remember? Or has our imagination reshaped reality?”