Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  “I don’t know what a hot glue gun is, but it sounds interesting. I have an idea there’s also a story behind that.” Walt nodded to the apron Danielle wore. It boasted an applique Santa, its cheeks yellowed from age.

  Danielle glanced down at her apron and smiled softly. “We each had our own Christmas apron, even Dad and Uncle Carl. When I packed up Cheryl’s things, I found her apron—along with her parents’ and Sean’s. I brought them back with me. Kind of surprised she kept them after all these years.”

  “Sounds like you have some good memories.”

  “Yes, I do. But that’s really all I have left of my family. Memories.”

  Chapter Four

  Danielle was just taking the last batch of cookies out of the oven when she heard the doorbell ring. Hurriedly, she used the spatula to move the hot cookies from the cookie sheet to the wooden cutting board on the counter, trying her best not to misshape the still soft cookies. She glanced up at the wall clock. It was almost 6 p.m. She had been baking most of the day.

  “It’s Joe,” Walt announce as he appeared in the kitchen.

  “Well, he’ll just have to wait,” Danielle said as she moved the last cookie to the wooden board. “I wonder what he wants?”

  “Have you done anything to get yourself arrested again?” Walt teased.

  “Funny ghost,” Danielle said under her breath as she placed the now empty cookie sheet back into the hot oven. Turning the oven off and shutting its door, she headed for the front entry, wiping her hands on her Christmas apron along the way.

  When she opened the front door a few moments later, she found Joe Morelli standing on the front porch. Instead of wearing his police uniform, he wore street clothes: tan slacks and a pullover sweater.

  “Evening Joe,” Danielle greeted.

  “The chief asked me to drop this off.” Joe held up Danielle’s old iPhone and grinned. His gaze swept over her, silently noting the dark tendrils escaping her once tidy fishtail braid, the smattering of flour across the bridge of her nose, and the colorful Santa Claus apron covering her black stretch pants and hip length red T-shirt.

  “Thanks. I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to get it back. Aren’t I supposed to sign for it or something?” Danielle took the phone from Joe and looked at it, turning it from side to side.

  “He said you can do that the next time you stop by the office. I guess he trusts you.” Joe leaned into the doorway and sniffed. “Someone has been baking.”

  “You want to come in and have a cookie? Just took the last batch out of the oven. They’re still warm.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Joe grinned and stepped into the house, letting Danielle close the door behind him.

  “I also wanted to talk to you about John Smith,” Joe said as he followed Danielle down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “He’s bringing you the iPhone? A rather transparent ploy to see you.” Walt said when he suddenly appeared, walking next to Danielle. “And what more can be said about Smith? The man is in prison, where he belongs.”

  Silently, Danielle glanced to Walt and smiled and then asked Joe, “Do we have to talk about Smith? It’s Christmastime. It’s bad enough I had to testify in his trial the week before Thanksgiving.” Danielle walked into the kitchen and headed for the counter, grabbing two glasses out of the overhead cabinet.

  “At least the jury came back with a quick verdict.” Joe took a seat at the table and watched Danielle.

  She held up the glasses and looked at Joe. “Milk or coffee? Or maybe you’d rather have a beer or some wine?”

  “Too late for coffee, it would keep me up all night. I’ve done beer and cookies before, but I think homemade cookies call for a glass of cold milk.”

  “I agree.” Danielle poured two glasses of milk and set cookies on a plate, before joining Joe at the table.

  “If you feed him homemade cookies he’s going to get the wrong impression. When a woman offers a man her homemade cooking they naturally assume she wants one thing, him,” Walt warned just before vanishing.

  Danielle resisted her urge to let out a snort in response to Walt’s comment, but instead glanced around the room looking for him. She suspected he had retreated to the attic. Joe had already grabbed a cookie and taken a bite when she asked, “What is this about Smith?”

  “It’s not bad news,” Joe explained. “Do you remember that Vancouver case, where authorities were convinced Smith was their man?”

  “Sure, and the case fell apart. What about it?” Danielle picked a chocolate chip cookie up off the plate and took a bite.

  “A new witness has come forward. With Smith already locked up for his attempt on our lives, the witness is more willing to talk.”

  “If this means Smith will be locked up longer, that’s terrific news.” Danielle paused a moment and frowned. “Will we have to testify again? I would assume our testimony on how he held us at gunpoint would help this other case. Lets the jury see he’s capable of murder. But crap, I really don’t want to go through that again.”

  “I have a feeling the DA may work out some sort of a plea bargain with Smith, to take the death penalty off the table. If they do, there would be no reason for us to testify. But we’ll have to see.”

  Danielle sighed. “I would like all that to be behind us.”

  “It has been one hell of a year…for all of us.” Joe paused a moment and then added, “The chief told me he already called you about Renton.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d rather not think about Renton or Smith. I’d rather drink to a better year.” Danielle lifted her glass of milk in a mock toast.

  “As long as it comes with cookies, works for me.” Joe grinned.

  They finished off the plate of cookies. Finally, Joe looked up at Danielle and said, “I’m really sorry I didn’t listen to Lily, and get over to Presley House sooner.”

  “Yeah…well…let’s just put that behind us too.” Danielle smiled.

  “But it really was your credit card. If someone hadn’t been using it…I mean, what were the chances of that happening at the same time you get trapped at Presley House?”

  Danielle shrugged. “When you first told me about the credit card, I assumed someone had gotten ahold of my account information, maybe from some previous purchase. I figured my card was still in my purse. But when I checked later, it wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, you told me.”

  “The only thing I can think of, it must have fallen out of my purse. Back when all of that was going on, I remember dropping the purse in a restaurant and some stuff fell out. I thought I got everything, but obviously I didn’t.”

  “I just wish we could have caught the person who was using your card.”

  “They had quite a shopping spree before the card was cancelled.”

  Joe glanced over to the counter where Danielle had set the iPhone. “What’re you going to do with your old phone?”

  “I’m donating it.” Danielle sipped her milk.

  Joe picked up a napkin off the table and wiped off his mouth. “You could sell it on eBay.”

  Instead of responding, Danielle just looked at Joe, her lips almost turning into a smile.

  He glanced up into Danielle’s dark eyes and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess there’s no reason to do that. You don’t need the money. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from baking cookies for a bunch of strangers.”

  “Oh stop, Joe. I like running the B and B. And I like baking.” Danielle stood and picked up the empty plate, taking it to the sink.

  “I didn’t notice any other cars out front. I assumed you don’t have anyone staying here now.”

  “Actually, we’re booked up through the New Year. No one is here right now, but I’m expecting someone…” She paused when she heard the doorbell ring. Grinning, she looked over at Joe. “How is that for timing?”

  Joe watched as Danielle quickly removed her Christmas apron and tossed it on the counter, before running her hands over her hair, in an awkward attempt to tidy up.
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  “You might want to remove the flour on your nose,” Joe said with a chuckle as he stood up and snatched the two empty glasses off the table to carry them to the kitchen sink.

  “Flour?” Danielle lifted her hand to her nose and unsuccessfully attempted to wipe away the evidence of her recent baking. She startled when Joe stepped in front of her and reached out, his hand gently brushing off her nose and cheek.

  “I can’t leave you alone for a minute!” Walt snapped when he suddenly appeared in the kitchen, a look of distain on his face.

  Startled by Joe’s gesture and Walt’s sudden appearance, Danielle stepped back, muttered an awkward thank you to Joe and flashed Walt a glare, before giving her nose a final wipe with her hand. She turned to the door and rushed from the kitchen.

  When Danielle reached the foyer, she paused for a moment by the mirror hanging over the cherry wood entry table. She took a moment to tuck a few stray tendrils back into her braid and straighten her red shirt, before turning toward the front door. Joe followed her back to the entry, but paused quietly at the parlor door, watching her. The bell rang a second time, just as Danielle was about to open the door.

  The man Danielle found standing on her front porch was nothing like she expected. For some reason, she had imagined that Chris Johnson—assuming that’s who this man was—would be more in line with Will Wayne, an older gentleman, alone and seeking company for the holiday.

  This man—whom she guessed was close to her age, perhaps a little older, looked like someone who would be spending his Christmas vacation on a cruise ship with other singles, instead of tucked away in a little bed and breakfast on the Northwest coast. And considering his looks, Danielle imagined he wouldn’t be lacking the attention of the women. She couldn’t wait until Lily got a look at this one.

  Dressed in faded jeans, a powder blue dress shirt, and suede jacket, the man carried a duffle bag over one shoulder. He broke into a wide smile the moment his eyes met hers. His gaze swept over her, and his smile broadened.

  “Well, hello,” he greeted, his blue eyes twinkling. “I sure hope I’m at the right place. I’m Chris Johnson, I’ve a reservation, this is Marlow House, isn’t it? I didn’t see a sign.”

  Danielle opened the door wider and stepped to one side. “You’re at the right place. Welcome. I’m afraid we don’t have a sign yet. I’m your host, Danielle Boatman.”

  Chris put out his hand and shook the one Danielle offered as he made his way into the house. Once inside, he glanced around and immediately spied Joe standing to one side, silently watching.

  “Hello.” He flashed Joe a smile. “Are you Mr. Boatman?”

  Joe stepped forward and shook Chris’ hand. “No. I’m a friend of Danielle’s, Joe Morelli.” Joe gave Chris’ hand a final firm shake while adding, “Sargent Joe Morelli.”

  “Sargent? Are you in the military?” Chris asked, when the handshake ended, a smile still on his face.

  “Joe’s with the local police department,” Danielle explained, flashing Joe a disapproving glance for his less than friendly demeanor.

  “Nice.” Chris dropped his duffle bag to the floor and glanced around the foyer. “Never hurts to be on good terms with the local cops.”

  “And what do you do, Mr. Johnson?” Joe asked.

  Chris’ gaze swept over the room before looking back to Joe. He studied him a moment. “I try to enjoy life, Sargent Morelli.”

  “Does that pay well?” Joe asked.

  Chris laughed. “You would be surprised.”

  “Thanks for bringing me my iPhone,” Danielle interrupted. “I know how busy you are, Joe.” Danielle started walking to the door, preparing to show Joe out. Unfortunately, Joe seemed quite content where he was standing.

  “You offer the boy a cookie and he starts getting all territorial,” Walt announced as he appeared the next moment, standing between Joe and Danielle. “I warned you this would happen if you encouraged him.”

  Chris’ eyes widened when a man wearing a vintage pinstripe suit materialized, standing just a few feet away. Resisting the urge to voice an expletive, Chris withheld comment, his gaze shifting from Danielle to Joe. By Joe’s lack of reaction, and the way he seemed to be looking through the man, who was clearly criticizing him, Chris surmised Joe could not see the apparition. Yet, by Danielle’s body language and the way her gaze shifted between Joe and the man, Chris assumed she could both see and hear him.

  Very interesting, Chris told himself. It seems Marlow House has its own ghost—and I believe Danielle Boatman can see and hear him.

  Chapter Five

  “So, is he your boyfriend?” Chris asked after Joe said his goodbyes and stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind him. Chris remained standing in the foyer with the chatty ghost and Danielle.

  By the way the spirit was yammering on about the cop, Chris was fairly certain he already knew the answer: Joe was not her boyfriend, but not from lack of trying. That was not only obvious by the ghost’s non-stop tirade but also by the unfriendly police officer’s possessive attitude toward Danielle, which did not seem to be reciprocated.

  “You hear what he’s asking you?” the ghost asked Danielle. “Not only are you sending the wrong message to Joe, the way you’re behaving toward Joe makes others think you and him are in a relationship. I told you, he’s all wrong for you, Danielle. Haven’t you learned that already? If you give him the chance, he’ll hurt you again.”

  Chris noted the flash of annoyance Danielle gave the nagging spirit, before she turned to him and said, “No, he’s just a friend. What made you think he was my boyfriend?”

  “It’s really none of my business, I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, that’s okay. I was just curious why you thought he was my boyfriend.”

  “It’s not so much I thought he was your boyfriend…”

  The ghost, now silent, stood between them. Chris could feel the apparition studying him.

  Resisting the temptation to shout boo to the spirit, Chris told Danielle, “It’s not that you acted like he was your boyfriend, just the opposite in fact. Seemed you were a little annoyed with the guy. But him, well… maybe he was just being protective, and I was reading him all wrong. You did say he was a cop, and I’m a stranger staying in your home.”

  Chris wanted to laugh at the ghost’s sudden scowl. He caught the satisfied smirk Danielle flashed her ghost friend. At least, Chris assumed he was her friend. By the way the ghost was behaving, it was obvious Joe-the-cop-dude wasn’t the only protective male hovering around Danielle Boatman.

  “Joe and I are just friends, but I suppose he is a little protective of me, considering that he did save my life.” Chris didn’t miss the mischievous grin Danielle flashed the spirit.

  “Oh please. He didn’t save your life. If I hadn’t intervened, both you and Joe would be on this side with me.” The apparition vanished.

  “Is he the cop who saved you from the hit man?” Chris asked. “I read about it online.”

  “And you still decided to spend Christmas here?” Danielle stepped to one side as she opened the door to the downstairs bedroom, where Chris would be staying.

  “I’ll confess, I read up on Marlow House before making the reservation. Sounds like this is a lively place.” Chris flashed Danielle a grin and walked into the room.

  “I hope you don’t expect anything too exciting during your stay here. If I have my way, this will be a nice, quiet, Christmas.”

  Chris walked into the bedroom. “That would suit me just fine, a drama free Christmas.” He was about to toss his duffle bag onto the bed when something on the center of the bedspread caught his eye.

  “Max!” Danielle shouted when she saw what had captured Chris’ attention. The cat—all black save for the white tips on his ears—raised his head, opened his eyes, and yawned. He looked at Danielle and then turned his attention to Chris.

  “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know how he got in here. I try to keep Max out of t
he guests’ bedrooms.” Danielle walked over to the bed and scooped up the black cat, who immediately rested his chin on her shoulder and began to purr. “I hope you aren’t allergic to cats.”

  “Not at all.” Chris reached out and scratched behind Max’s ears. “He’s welcome in my room anytime. I like cats.”

  “He does seem to be partial to this bedroom.” Danielle pointed to another door. “This room has a private bathroom, through there. It’s the only guestroom on the ground floor.”

  Chris tossed the duffle bag onto the bed and looked around. “Nice.”

  Max began to squirm. Danielle set him on the floor. He immediately walked to Chris and began winding in and out around his ankles.

  “I think he likes you,” Danielle said, looking down at her cat. “But if he gets in your way, please feel free to put him out of your room.”

  “I assume there are other guests?” Chris asked.

  “There will be. We have several arriving tomorrow; they’ll be staying in the upstairs bedrooms. And then there’s Lily, she lives here fulltime.”

  “Lily? I think I read about her too. Is she the one that rich guy tried to pass off as his niece? When she was in a coma?”

  “You really did read all about this place.”

  “When I was considering staying here for the holiday, I looked you up online. I was surprised how many news articles popped up when I typed in Marlow House.”

  Danielle groaned. “Not exactly the publicity I was looking for.”

  Chris laughed. “I imagine not. But don’t worry about it, this place is beautiful and I’m anxious to get the grand tour.”

  “I’ll be happy to give it to you now, unless you’d like to freshen up.”

  “Freshen up?” Chris chuckled.

  Danielle blushed. “I guess that does sound like a funny thing to say to a guy.”