Vanessa adjusted the paisley pashmina draped across her shoulders and flipped her long blond hair back. “I’m going out for a while,” she announced to the room. She turned to Emma and Phil. “I am sorry for not being a better hostess, but I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Where are you going?” asked Gino, getting up from the table.
“Just out,” Vanessa answered.
“That bag is your overnight bag,” Gino noted. “Are you just going overnight?”
“The rest of my luggage is by the door.”
“We have guests, Vanessa,” Gino said, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his voice low and even. Emma and Phil glanced at each other before looking down at their half-eaten breakfasts in embarrassment. Marta turned toward the stove and stirred the stew as if she’d heard nothing.
“Your guests,” Vanessa said, her words full of defiance. “They’re always your guests, Gino. And besides, you’ll be spending most of the day with her talking about stupid ghosts for your next stupid book. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Vanessa turned sharply on her heel and headed for the front door to punctuate her point.
Gino followed, grabbing her by the arm, stopping her before she had gotten more than a few steps through the dining room. The Costellos moved out of sight so that those left in the kitchen couldn’t see them, but they could still hear them.
“You’re making a scene, Vanessa,” they heard Gino hiss. “All because you’re here and not in Europe where you can fawn over some pretentious literary asshole.”
“At least he pays attention to me,” she hissed back.
“How many times have I begged you to go away with me, just the two of us, but you always have an excuse. Even in Europe you made no time for me, even after I kept my promise to not spend any time there writing.” Gino’s voice was more of a growl. “Those so-called stupid books don’t write themselves. I work hard to give you the jet-setting life you want, but it’s never enough, is it? You like my fame and my fortune, but you really can’t stand being with me, can you, Vanessa?”
“You’re not fun anymore, Gino,” Vanessa shot back. “You were once, when we were first married, but now you’re just some stuffy middle-aged intellectual. Well, you may be happy being stashed away here in homespun hell, but I am not.”
The sound of her boots could be heard, sharp and determined on the hardwood floor, as she continued to the front door.
“Are you coming back?” they heard Gino ask, his voice fainter as he followed her. “Or is this it? You’ve stomped off so often, I can’t keep track.”
Phil picked up his coffee and got up. He motioned to Emma and she picked up her mug and followed him out the back door to the large deck. A minute later Marta came out the back door with the coffeepot.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Whitecastle, Mr. Bowers,” she said simply as she refilled their mugs.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Marta,” Phil told her. “I think we just came at a bad time.” He turned to Emma. “Perhaps we should leave, darling. We can take care of that other matter from a nearby hotel or something, can’t we?”
Marta was heading back into the kitchen and caught Phil’s comment. Before Emma could answer, she turned quickly back to them. “Please don’t go,” Marta begged softly, her head bowed slightly, her fingers touching her crucifix. “It won’t be good for Mr. Costello to be alone.”
“He won’t be alone, Marta,” Emma told her with surprise. “He has you and Leroy. I think we’re a distraction in the Costellos’ personal issues.”
“No,” the housekeeper begged softly. “He needs you, good people like you, here.” Her eyes, small dark raisins in her doughy face, darted between Emma and Phil in supplication while she fingered her cross. “I can’t help him, and Leroy . . .” Her voice drifted off, leaving the sentence incomplete. “This has happened before, her leaving,” she whispered to them with one eye on the back door. “He . . . It’s no good for him. He gets very depressed. Drinks too much. His work helps. He brought you here to work, yes?” She paused, then quickly made her last plea. “Your daughters are very good, very close friends, like sisters. Mr. Costello is almost like family, yes?” Before they could blink Marta left the coffeepot on the table between their two chairs and scurried back into the kitchen.
“What do you make of that?” Emma asked Phil, her eyes wide with curiosity.
He shrugged and took a drink of his coffee. “I’m not sure, but Marta pulled out the big guns to get us to stay with that comment about Kelly and T.”
“She has a good point, Phil. Gino isn’t just anyone. And he’s done us favors many times without any hesitation, even without knowing us personally.”
Phil took another quick drink of his coffee, his eyes fastened on the lake. Morning was in full bloom, the trees surrounding the lake glorious in bronze, red, and rust plumage. The air was crisp and clean like fresh laundry. Overhead, clouds continued to move in. Rain was definitely coming later in the day. Off in the distance, they could hear a boat’s motor.
“Stay or go?” Emma asked when Phil said nothing.
Phil remained silent and continued to study the lake while he sipped his coffee mechanically. Emma gave him his space, knowing this was how he was when his brain was fully engaged with a problem. He would quickly assess the details of their quandary, working out and weighing possibilities. Her ex, Grant Whitecastle, was a knee-jerk kind of guy, making decisions, often bad ones, on the fly without considering consequences or all options. When Phil made a decision or gave her his opinion, whether she agreed with him or not, she could trust the process. She sipped her coffee and waited, ignoring the chill that was starting to creep through her running clothes.
She was reaching for the coffeepot to top off her mug when Phil turned to her. “I’m inclined to at least stay today, maybe tomorrow, and see what happens. With Leroy gone and Marta clearly concerned about Gino, I think we should be here for support if he needs it. It will also give us time to see what the Brown family wants.” He gestured with his free hand. “On the other hand, we could also offer to leave and see what Gino says. He might be embarrassed by what we witnessed today, though I think he’s going to want us to stay. If for no other reason than to help him with his research as originally planned. He might want to bury his problems in his work.” He smiled at Emma. “But if you want to go, darling, I’d be all for that, too.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, the part about staying at least today and seeing what develops. We don’t want Gino to feel totally abandoned.” Emma put down her coffee mug. “Although I wish Marta would stop clinging to her crucifix whenever I’m around. It makes me feel like a demon she’s trying to exorcise.”
“Well, sweetheart, she knows you talk to spirits and a lot of people do think such things are evil.” Phil laughed. “But she can’t think you’re all bad. She said she’d make sure you had bananas, didn’t she? And she did beg us to stay.”
“Still,” she said, “it makes me very self-conscious.” Emma topped off Phil’s mug and her own, and settled back in her chair, holding her hot mug between her hands. “But she sure makes great coffee. And granola.”
“And muffins,” Phil added, raising his mug in salute. “We might want to stay just for the food.”
They spent another minute in comfortable silence, then Phil asked, “Do you think Vanessa is gone for good?”
Emma took her turn at studying the lake while she gave the question thought. “I think it’s safe to say she won’t be returning to this place at all.”
“You got that right!” came a voice by the railing.
Emma glanced toward the kitchen door to make sure Marta wasn’t nearby or listening. “What can you tell us, Granny?” she whispered as the ghost came into view.
“Vanessa packed up her duds and took off,” the ghost reported, “but I think you already know that.”
“We
were there when she walked out,” Emma told her, still keeping her voice down. “Did you find out anything new?”
Phil got up and went to the railing, leaning against it near the place Emma had directed her question. Granny looked him over, then smiled at Emma. “I like the way the cowboy here is always thinking and always has your back.”
“Me, too, Granny.” Emma said, smiling at Phil.
“When I got back here,” Granny reported, “Vanessa had already showered and put on her face.” The ghost sniffed. “In my opinion, she wears way too much of that goo. She’s more attractive without it.”
“What’s Granny saying?” Phil asked.
“That Vanessa wears too much makeup,” Emma reported.
“That’s Granny,” Phil said with a low chuckle. “Always on topic.”
Granny glared at Phil. “I have a right to my opinion, especially if you want my help.”
Phil stared straight ahead at Emma. “My comment didn’t go over very well, did it?”
“Do I really have to answer that?” Emma asked him with a grin. She shifted only her eyes to Granny, who was just to the right of where Phil stood, acting as a decoy in the event someone came out of the house. “What happened after that, Granny?”
“She called someone,” Granny reported, “but I don’t think Vanessa got an answer because she left a message for them to call her back, then hung up right away and got dressed.”
“Did they call her back?”
“Someone did a few minutes later,” Granny reported. “I’m not sure if it was the same person, but I think it was. The call started all sweet, like the earlier one, but then it turned serious and Vanessa got very upset.” Granny paced along the deck as she tried to remember, then came to stand close to Emma.
“But the earlier call,” Emma said after considering Granny’s words, “was there anything in that call to make you think there were problems?”
“No, none at all,” the ghost said. “But in this one Vanessa kept asking when she was going to see him again and I don’t think she liked the answer because she started whining about how much she needed to see him and how it was important. The other person must have stuck to their guns, because that’s when Vanessa brought up the baby.”
“Ah, so she is pregnant,” Emma said with a slight nod of her head.
“Yep. And I’m betting it’s the dude’s on the phone. It was right after that that the call ended. Kind of sounded like it was unresolved.” Granny floated back and forth as she pieced together what had happened. “But there’s something else,” the ghost said. “Right after that call, Vanessa called someone else. This time there was no gooey talk or pleading. She was all business and said they needed to meet.”
Suppressing her urge to ask Granny more, Emma shot a look toward the kitchen door. She didn’t see any signs of Marta. Getting up, she went to the kitchen door, opened it, and poked her head inside. Marta was sitting at the table peeling apples.
“Marta,” Emma said, not going inside. “Mr. Bowers and I will be taking another walk before we clean up, this time down by the lake. Would you please tell Mr. Costello that we’ll see him in the library in about an hour and a half to two hours if he feels like working on his research?”
“Certainly,” the housekeeper said, barely looking up from her work. “So you’re staying, then?”
“For now, yes.”
This time Marta did look up and this time she didn’t finger her crucifix. Emma attributed that to one hand holding a paring knife and the other a juicy half-peeled apple. “Good, Mrs. Whitecastle. I’m very happy to hear that, and I’m sure Mr. Costello will be, too.” She looked relieved.
Emma and Phil left the deck and headed down a narrow walkway across the large lawn toward the lake. They walked hand in hand while Emma brought Phil up to date. Granny floated alongside them.
“Granny,” Phil asked as they walked, “do you think Vanessa went off to meet up with the baby’s daddy or whoever was on the second call she made?”
Emma reported to Phil after Granny answered. “Granny couldn’t hear the other side of the calls and didn’t hear of any set plans.”
“Do you think there are really two different people here?” Phil asked. “It might be the same person but Vanessa dealing with them in two different ways—all sappy and vulnerable the first time and with anger the second time.”
“That’s a good possibility,” Emma agreed.
They had reached the dock and walked out onto it, coming to a stop near the end where there was a bench. They sat down and Phil put his arm around Emma’s shoulders and pulled her close against the chilly air. Granny hovered nearby.
“The Costellos’ domestic problems are not why we’re here,” Phil reminded them. “The less we know or are involved, the better.”
“I agree,” Emma said, patting Phil’s knee. “We’ll stay for moral support and to help Gino with the book. But no more prying.” She aimed her last comment at Granny.
“Hey, you asked me to spy on her,” the ghost pointed out.
“Yes,” Emma admitted, “I did ask you to look in on Vanessa, but no more. Okay? As Phil pointed out, this isn’t why we’re here. We’ll mind our own business, help Gino with his book, and be on our way.”
“What about the Browns?” Granny asked. “Are we keeping our noses out of that, too?”
“That reminds me, Granny,” Emma told her, “we had a long talk with both Abigail and Blaine and got more information. Basically, many years ago, two of the Brown children went missing, and the family doesn’t think the children have crossed over yet. They want me to try and locate them.”
“You mean they were murdered?” the ghost asked, her eyes as big as dinner plates.
“They’re not sure. Blaine said if they weren’t, then they met with a fatal accident. Either way, the family wants to reunite with them on the other side.”
A motorboat sped past them on the lake, its occupants giving them friendly waves. Phil waved back. “What other information did Blaine give you?” he asked.
“All I know so far,” Emma said to both Phil and Granny, “is that the missing children were eight-year-old twins. Their names were Chester and Clarissa. They are Abigail’s children and Blaine’s aunt and uncle.” She looked at Granny. “I told Blaine that we’ll talk again later, maybe after dinner.”
Granny put a hand to her mouth a moment and shut her eyes tight. “Oh my,” she murmured. “That poor Abigail lost two of her children at such a young age.” She opened her eyes and fixed them hard on Emma. “We must help them, Emma.”
“We will, Granny,” Emma assured the ghost with tenderness. As cranky as Granny could get, she was also very empathetic toward both the living and dead, especially when it came to children. “It won’t be easy to track down what happened to those children all those years ago, but we’ll do as much as we can. I promise.” She smiled at Granny and Granny gave her a small smile back.
“Isn’t it unusual for a family to be hanging out together on the other side?” asked Phil. “I mean none of them died at the same time. Some died decades apart.”
“Hard to say,” Emma told him. “Granny and Jacob found each other after death.”
“But we didn’t pass all that apart in time,” Granny added.
“That’s true, Granny,” confirmed Emma. “You and your husband died a short time apart, but did you find him on the other side or did you connect again at the homestead?”
The ghost gave it some thought. “It was at the homestead. I don’t see him when he disappears from there, only when we meet up in a common place. And Jacob doesn’t travel around like I do. He’s content to stay put near your house in Julian.” Emma had built her home on Granny and Jacob’s old homestead in Julian after Phil’s family had deeded it back to her. She often saw the ghost of her great-great-great-grandfather sitting peacefully on her big porch.
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br /> After Emma relayed Granny’s comments, Phil said, “I’ll bet it’s this place and the old house that pulls the Brown family back together. They were a tight-knit family, no matter which generation they came from. But they all had this place in common.”
“I’ll bet you’re right, Phil,” Emma said. “I wonder if there are any of their descendants left in the area. We’ll have to ask Gino.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” he agreed. “They might know some family history to tell us that might help.” He studied the lake. “But I wonder why the spirits of the children didn’t return here to join them.”
Granny narrowed her eyes. “Maybe they have unfinished business, like making sure whoever murdered them got caught.”
“Could be, Granny,” agreed Emma. “Maybe the children are caught here, waiting for justice. Or maybe their spirits are simply confused. We’ll have to find out what they were doing the day they disappeared.”
Emma stood up and stretched. “I’m ready for a hot shower.” She turned to Phil and gave him a mischievous grin. “How about you?”
Phil laughed. “That shower did look large enough for two, didn’t it?”
“Barely,” she said, holding out a hand to him. “But we’ll make it work.”
Granny shook her head and started to disappear. “You two are worse than a couple of jackrabbits. And at your age!”
• CHAPTER EIGHT •
ONCE they were freshly showered and dressed, Emma and Phil made their way back downstairs to the library. Granny had taken off to recharge her energy. They found Gino seated at the big oak desk poring over some papers. On the desk was a laptop. The French doors to the deck were partially open, letting in the autumn air. Gino lifted a haggard face their way when he heard their footsteps and plastered a smile on his face.
“Have a seat and let’s get to work,” he said with an eagerness that seemed only partially real. He indicated a couple of chairs he’d pulled up to the desk.
The Ghosts of Misty Hollow Page 8
