“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to stay at Marlow House if you cross back over.”
“You know I don’t want to leave here. Lord, would I still be here if I wanted to leave?” Walt asked.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“For starters, I wouldn’t be me anymore.”
Danielle frowned. “Yes, you would.”
“Everyone would think I’m Clint. Wouldn’t they find it a little strange if I stayed and then mooched off you?”
Danielle considered Walt’s words and then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I really didn’t think that one through. But we could work it out. Anyway, most of our friends would know the truth.”
“But not everyone,” Walt reminded her.
“If it makes you feel any better, we could get you a job with the Glandon Foundation. You wouldn’t really have to work, but everyone—those who didn’t know the truth—wouldn’t think you were unemployed.”
Walt let out a snort. “Oh, I’m sure Chris would love that. In fact, I’m not sure Chris would be thrilled with any of this. In fact, I’m certain he won’t be.”
“Why not?” Danielle asked.
Walt studied Danielle and then asked in a whisper, “If I did this, what would it mean for us?”
“For us…” Danielle choked out.
“Things would change, Danielle. If I did accept my cousin’s offer and then accepted yours and stayed here, I don’t imagine we’d still have our nightly chats—in your bed.”
Danielle’s gaze met Walt’s. After a prolonged silence she asked, “Why not?”
Walt smiled softly. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes but stopped when he remembered that would be impossible to do with his fingertips alone. For one thing, he didn’t actually have fingertips. “Our entire relationship will change if I do this. I don’t think I want to be like Chris.”
“Chris?” she whispered.
“Your pal. One you can have platonic sleepovers with.”
Danielle blushed. “I’ve never had a sleepover with Chris—platonic or otherwise. Unless you count the time we were chained up together in Seligman.”
“You know what I mean, Danielle,” he whispered. “You have to know how I feel about you.”
She searched his expression and smile wistfully. “I think you know how I feel about you. But all of this—if it were to really happen—is uncharted territory. You and I have become best friends. That other thing we feel is just out of our reach, something we both understood was impossible. But should you do this, those barriers come down, yet even without the barriers, there are no guarantees. People long for all sorts of things they know they can never have, yet when they are given the opportunity to finally have those things—it doesn’t really work out for them. Perhaps the impossibility of the situation made the forbidden more desirable. What we can’t have, we tend to want more.”
“Is that what you think would happen?” Walt asked. “Those feelings we have been trying to ignore would simply dissolve?”
Their eyes locked and Danielle smiled softly. “I honestly don’t know. What I do know, there are no guarantees in life. All we can do is live it and see what happens. If it were up to me, I would want you to live that life and see what happens.”
Adam was already sitting in Pier Café when Bill walked into the diner the next morning. The handyman glanced around the restaurant, looking for his friend. Once he spied Adam alone at a booth reading a menu, he started in that direction.
“Tell me it’s an April Fool’s joke,” Bill said as he took the seat across the table from Adam.
Adam set the menu down and frowned. “April Fool’s joke?”
“I just heard at the barber that those paintings of Danielle Boatman’s and the one at the museum of Eva Thorndike are worth millions.”
Adam chuckled. “No. It’s not an April Fool’s joke. It’s true. The Thorndike portrait is probably worth five million at least. Danielle’s might be worth more, considering the size.”
“Damn, I can’t believe that woman. I’ve heard of the Midas touch, but this is ridiculous.”
Adam stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
Adam headed to the bathroom while Bill picked up a menu, still shaking his head. While Adam was in the bathroom, four men walked into the diner and glanced around. They spied the empty booth next to Bill and Adam’s.
When Adam returned from the bathroom, he paid little attention to the four men now sitting in the booth behind theirs. Just as Adam sat back down across from Bill, Carla walked up to the table with a pitcher of coffee.
“Did you hear about that painting at the museum of Eva Thorndike?” Carla asked as she filled Adam’s and Bill’s cups.
“We were just talking about that,” Adam told her.
Still holding the pitcher of coffee in one hand, Carla propped her other hand on one hip as she looked down to Adam and Bill. “Some of the board members of the museum were here for breakfast. I can’t believe they’ve had that painting all this time and never knew it was worth a fortune. Oh my gosh, you should have heard them. They were already making plans to spend all that money they’re getting.”
“I thought the painting was staying at the museum?” Bill asked.
“Oh, it is,” Carla said with a nod. “I guess that place Chris works for, Glandon Foundation, is buying the portrait from the museum and then loaning it back to them. The foundation is even paying for an addition to the museum and added security.”
“I heard the foundation is also buying Danielle Boatman’s paintings—of Walt Marlow and his wife. Are they going to be displayed at the museum too?” Bill asked.
“Yes,” Adam told him.
“Can you imagine, those paintings Danielle Boatman inherited are worth over ten million dollars?” Carla gushed. “I hope no one steals them from her before the foundation pays her!”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Adam said. “The foundation picked up the Marlow portraits yesterday, along with Eva’s.”
“But I thought Eva’s was staying at the museum?” Carla frowned.
“That’s where they’re eventually going, after the addition to the museum is complete.”
“Did they take them to the foundation headquarters?” Bill asked.
Adam shook his head. “I saw Chris last night at Danielle’s birthday party. He said the three paintings were shipped to some museum in Portland yesterday. Some expert familiar with the artist—I think the artist’s name was Bonnet—is coming in to verify the authenticity of the paintings, and there will be an appraisal before the museum or Danielle are paid.”
“Oh my gosh, they’re Monet’s?” Carla gasped.
Adam chuckled. “No. The artist’s name was Bonnet. Another French guy.”
One of the men sitting in the next booth directly behind Adam had been attentively listening to Adam, Bill, and Carla’s conversation. After hearing the name Eva Thorndike, he picked up his cellphone and made a quick internet search. After seeing the results, he let out a groan.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered to his companions.
“We haven’t ordered,” one of the men protested.
“Now,” he insisted.
Macbeth Bandoni hurried toward the pier parking lot, his three cousins reluctantly following. It wasn’t until the four men were back in their car and driving down Beach Drive did Macbeth explain their hasty departure from Pier Café.
“It’s over,” Macbeth told them.
“What’s over?” one of his cousins asked.
“They know about the paintings,” Macbeth told them.
“What are you talking about?” one of the men asked.
“Didn’t you hear what the guys in the next booth were saying? They were talking about the paintings,” Macbeth said. “Everyone knows Bonnet painted them.”
“So? They don’t know you have the originals. We can still get them and take them to the seller,” another
one of his cousins suggested.
Macbeth shook his head. “No. One thing about this business is to know when to take your losses and get out. That has kept me out of prison this long. They’ve taken the fakes to some art expert in Portland, along with another Bonnet painting.” He then paused and let out a curse.
“What other Bonnet painting?” a cousin asked.
“It seems there was another original Bonnet in town we weren’t aware of. At the museum. They’ve all been taken to Portland.”
“I still don’t see what the problem is,” one of the cousins whined. “All we need to do is get the originals out of storage.”
“That would be fine and dandy if we knew where in the hell the damn cops put them, which we don’t. But now it’s too late. We need to get out of Frederickport. I need to make myself scarce.”
“Why?” two of the cousins coursed.
“Because if that art expert is looking at those portraits right now, he is going to realize the museum one is an original and the Marlow ones are fake. Which is then going to lead them to the two stored by the cops. And once Clint wakes up from his coma, he is going to sing like a canary when they ask him how his reproductions happen to be the real deal. I’ll be screwed. They aren’t going to care about some two-bit real estate agent who has never had so much as a traffic ticket. But they will love using him to get to me.”
Thirty-One
Danielle stood in the kitchen of Marlow House looking at the calendar hanging on the wall. It was April 1—April Fool’s Day—which made her cynical-self ask, Was Clint’s suggestion simply a perverse April Fool’s joke? But then she remembered he had made the suggestion prior to midnight—on her birthday. This made her optimistic-self ask, Was Clint’s suggestion a wonderful birthday gift? The gift of life for Walt? What would it all mean? Her head spun at the possibility and absurdity of it all.
“Considering all that we are dealing with right now, I’m rather relieved you didn’t book any guests for the next two weeks,” Walt said when he appeared in the kitchen, standing by Danielle’s side.
“Have you made a decision?” she asked.
“No. Not really.” Walt walked to the table and sat down. “I think it may be a good idea to gather some more opinions on Clint’s proposal. Others—not as close to the situation as you or me—might see something we’re missing.”
“I assume you mean talk to those who know about you?”
Walt nodded. “All except for Evan. I don’t think he needs to deal with this—at least not yet.”
“You want me to call everyone, see if they can come over here today?” Danielle asked.
Walt considered her suggestion and then shook his head. “No. I think you need to do it somewhere else.”
“But then you won’t be able to be part of the discussion.”
“Exactly.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Danielle, if I want everyone’s honest opinion—an open discussion on this—I think it’s best if I’m not there. It will allow everyone to speak freely. Do you honestly think any of them will feel comfortable expressing a reason why I should remain dead? I don’t even think Chris would be able to do that.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Danielle said with a sigh.
“Of course, it’s always possible my dear cousin has already found someone and it’s all a moot point.”
Danielle walked to the counter and picked up her cellphone. It was in the process of being charged. She unplugged the cord from the phone and turned to Walt. “I’ll call everyone. See if they’ll meet me at the foundation office. I know Chris and Heather are working today, so it’ll be easier if we all meet there. But before I go, I’ll stop by the hospital and have a talk with your cousin.”
“Assuming he is still there.”
“If he is, we’ll know he hasn’t found someone willing to take his offer. And if he isn’t and his body still hasn’t woken up, I’ll have to assume the same and figure he is out looking for someone to take him up on it.”
“You’re his sister?” the nurse from the ICU asked Danielle forty minutes later. Danielle had not seen this particular nurse before. The way she narrowed her eyes, Danielle didn’t think she believed her.
And here Walt said I was such a good liar. Danielle smiled sheepishly. “Yes. By any chance, has he come to?”
The nurse studied Danielle a moment, yet didn’t challenge her claim. “I’m afraid not. You can go in and see him if you want. Try talking to him. Sometimes that helps.”
“Oh, I will.” Danielle smiled at the nurse and then hurried off to Clint’s room. The curtains were not drawn, which meant those at the nurses’ station would be able to watch Danielle through the windowed wall as she visited Clint.
To her relief, the moment she walked into the room, she spied Clint’s spirit-self standing in the corner, a few feet from the head of the hospital bed.
“Did you come to tell me Walt is rejecting my offer?” Clint asked.
“No. I came to tell you he’s considering it.”
Clint brightened. Standing a little straighter, he smiled at Danielle. “He is? But he didn’t come with you?”
“He’ll only come if he decides to do this.”
“You mean because if he leaves Marlow House and decides not to take my offer, he can’t return—he’ll be forced to move on?”
Tilting her head inquisitively, she studied Clint a moment. “How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “Just something he said.”
“So you haven’t found another spirit to take your offer?” Danielle asked as she sat down on the chair, pulling it closer to the bed. Leaning forward, it looked as if she were addressing her conversation to Clint’s body.
“I thought it best to give my cousin a chance first. After all, he is family.”
“I thought family didn’t mean anything to you?” she asked.
“Maybe I’m getting sentimental now that it’s all over, and I’m getting ready to move on. Although, I can’t wait forever.”
“Just give us a few days. If Walt decides he can’t do this, I’ll let you know right away.”
After Danielle left the room a few minutes later, Clint stood by the windowed wall and looked out to the nurses’ station. He watched as Danielle rushed past the nurses and out of the ICU.
“What would happen if Walt came for my body and I changed my mind at the last minute?” Clint asked aloud. “Would you know I wasn’t him, Danielle Boatman? I imagine you would eventually. Of course, I could always pretend to have amnesia. I’ve heard that’s not uncommon after someone’s had a traumatic injury. I wonder how long I could pull it off? Would it be worth the money to be with someone you didn’t really love? Maybe the real question, what’s more important, love or money?”
Danielle was headed for the exit door to the hospital parking lot when Adam Nichols came breezing through the door, briefcase in hand. Wearing dress slacks and shirt, and a tie, he looked like a man ready to do business.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Danielle asked. She looked him up and down and then said, “Wow, you have a tie on today. What’s the occasion?”
Holding up his briefcase for a moment, he said, “I have a client who needs to sign some escrow papers. Unfortunately, his heart condition has him here for the week.” He then eyed her and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to visit Clint Marlow.”
“He came out of his coma?” Adam asked.
“No. He hasn’t come to yet. I was just checking on him.” It wasn’t completely false, she thought.
“That’s nice of you, considering that guy is a tool.”
“Adam!” Danielle admonished. “The poor guy lost his fiancée.”
Adam’s complexion reddened. He shrugged and said, “Yeah, I know. That was horrible and all. I feel sorry for the guy. But he’s still a tool. Do they know why he’s not waking up?”
Danielle shook her head. “No. But remember, both Chris and Li
ly went through something similar. It just takes a while.”
“Ahh, that’s right. I forgot about that. But, Danielle, remember, this guy is not Lily or Chris. It’s nice of you to check in on him, but don’t make yourself crazy.”
“I’m not. I just wanted to see how he’s doing. After all, he was our guest for two weeks.”
“That or the fact he looks just like Walt Marlow.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked.
“Come on, Danielle, ever since you moved into Marlow House, it’s like you have some affinity to its previous resident. It was you who proved he didn’t kill himself. Why did you care so much? And I remember once you even told Bill and me you didn’t want to upset his spirit, or something like that.”
“I was just teasing at the time,” Danielle lied. “You take everything I say so seriously.”
“No. I think you have a crush on Walt Marlow. And frankly, I’m a little surprised you sold his portrait to Chris. I know you don’t care about money,” he teased.
“Don’t be silly. It’s just that Clint stayed with us for two weeks, and I feel horrible about Stephanie.”
“Yeah, that really does suck. She was pretty hot.”
Danielle scowled. “What, and if she were less attractive, her death would not be as tragic?”
“I didn’t say that!” Adam grumbled.
“It’s how it sounded.”
“Maybe it did sound that way.” Adam grinned. “But at least I don’t have a crush on someone who’s dead.” He laughed and then looked at his watch. “I gotta go.”
They sat in the front office of the Glandon Foundation: Heather, Chris, Ian, Lily, and Chief MacDonald. They were all there, sitting in various chairs in the room, when Danielle arrived.
“So are you going to start with I have called you all here today…” Lily greeted Danielle when she walked into the room. Lily laughed at her attempt at humor, yet she was not actually teasing.
“I would have liked Marie and Eva to be here too. But I haven’t seen either of them for a few days. I rather thought Marie would show up on my birthday, but she didn’t.”
The Ghost and the Doppelganger Page 20
