Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  Jessica reached out with her free hand and tugged on Richard’s shirt sleeve. “How did you see it?”

  Richard shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know. I just saw it. Like when we were at the table last night, and Anna said we were going to make Christmas trees. I just saw hands—small hands—folding a phonebook into a Christmas tree. And when Patricia mentioned the bottle caps, I saw it. They were lined up in a row on newsprint. Someone was spray painting them, and I was—at least I felt it was me, but it was me as a very young boy—was sprinkling gold glitter over the bottle caps as soon as they were painted.”

  “That’s probably a memory from your childhood,” Patricia suggested.

  “No, impossible.” Richard shook his head. “I must have seen it on TV and just forgot.”

  “How can you be so sure it wasn’t a memory from your childhood?” Anna asked.

  “Because my parents would never let me play with glitter—or keep bottle caps to paint.” He laughed at the thought.

  After dinner Tuesday evening, Richard found Patricia in the library reading a book. Jessica was in the living room playing a board game with Lily and Danielle, while Anna and Chris watched them from the sofa.

  “I wanted to apologize,” Richard told Patricia.

  She closed the book and looked up at Richard. “Apologize for what?”

  “For that crack I made earlier today, about how I wished my parents had died when I was younger.” He took a seat next to her. “I didn’t mean to imply your loss was any less because it happened when you were young.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents. It must have been painful for you.”

  “Yes, but not in the ways you might imagine.”

  Patricia didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she asked, “Were you close to your parents?”

  “Close? I suppose I thought I was. How about you. Were you close to your mother?”

  Patricia let out a sigh and leaned back. “I said earlier that I really didn’t remember Mom, but that’s not true. I do remember her. But when I think of Mom, I get so mad at her—and then I feel guilty, especially now—so I prefer to pretend I don’t remember her.”

  “Why do you get mad at her?”

  “Because she died, and I ended up in foster care. She didn’t protect me.”

  “How did she die?” His question was almost a whisper.

  “Mom had cancer. She got so sick, went so fast. I remember having to stay with the neighbors when she was in the hospital. And then she died and they came for us.” Patricia closed her eyes.

  “Who came for you?”

  Patricia opened her eyes again. “Social services.”

  “When you told me about bouncing around in the foster care system, you said it was partly your fault because of how you behaved.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I still don’t agree it was your fault. I also understand why you were angry with your mom, because she didn’t make any arrangements for you. What I don’t understand is, why do you feel guilty for that? ”

  “Because now I understand why my mother didn’t make arrangements—for the same reason I haven’t for Jessica.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t really have anyone. If something happened to me tomorrow, I don’t know what would become of Jessica. I haven’t made any plans. I think about it all the time.”

  “Don’t you have any family or friends?”

  “I don’t have any family. And I’ve been so busy just surviving, I really haven’t had the time to make close friends—at least not the kind of friend who I would ask to take Jessica if something happened to me.”

  After a few moments of silence Richard said, “Maybe the answer is for you to find a husband.”

  Patricia laughed. “Yeah, well, I really don’t have time to go husband hunting these days. And having a little girl just makes things more complicated.”

  “Jessica seems like a sweet kid, I bet there are a lot of men out there who love kids. Who would love a stepdaughter like Jessica.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what I’m worried about.”

  Richard was about to ask her what she meant but then stopped when he realized what she was probably saying. “I suppose that does make things a little more—challenging.”

  “I just need to be careful.”

  “How about Chris?” Richard suggested.

  “Chris?” Patricia frowned.

  “He’s a nice guy. Seems to like Jessica—but doesn’t seem creepy about it.”

  Patricia chuckled. “I don’t think so. He’s a nice guy, but not my type. And a little young for me.”

  “I’m sure there’s someone out there for you.”

  “Thanks Richard, but I really don’t believe a woman should look to a man to solve her problems. I suppose when I return to Arizona, I should make more of an effort to reach out to my friends, make more time for them. After I find us a place to live, of course. ”

  “What will that do?”

  “Maybe I’m overlooking a friend who’d be willing to step up to the plate and raise Jessica, if something were to happen to me.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  “I hope not.” Patricia let out a weary sigh.

  After a few moments of silence Richard said, “My mother always let men solve her problems. My father, to be precise. If Mother ever had a problem, Dad was always there to solve it. The extremes he would go to were mind boggling.”

  “Sounds like he loved her.”

  “I suppose. If that was love, I don’t want any part of it.”

  “You sound bitter, Richard.”

  “I suppose I do. I suppose I am.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Richard considered her offer. After a few moments of silence he said, “Mother married well, never had to think of money. Whatever she wanted she bought. They say money doesn’t buy happiness, but my father sure tried to prove that adage wrong.”

  “Was your mother happy?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe. Sometimes. I think it was more about her making herself appear happy. To Mother, life had a certain order and if that order was maintained, then I suppose she was happy, as happy as she was capable of being.”

  “Was she a…loving woman?”

  Richard laughed. “Loving. No. Not like you are with Jessica. People used to tell me how lucky I was to have the parents I did. My parents were never affectionate exactly—more doting—suffocating. And sometimes—sometimes...”

  “Sometimes what?”

  “Sometimes, they just resented me. I wouldn’t be surprised if that resentment bordered on hate.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Christmas Eve morning, Danielle surprised the guests of Marlow House by hanging twelve Christmas stockings on the mantle of the living room’s massive stone fireplace. It wasn’t that the stockings were a surprise, it was that each one had a name embroidered along its top. Five stockings bore the names of Marlow House’s current guests: Jessica, Patricia, Anna, Richard, and Chris. Sadie and Max each had one, as did Danielle, Lily, Ian, and Ian’s sister, Kelly. And the last stocking was for Walt Marlow.

  “Who is Walt?” Jessica asked when she read the names on the stockings.

  “He lived here before I did,” Danielle explained. “His grandfather built this house.”

  “Is he coming for Christmas?” Jessica asked.

  “No honey.” Patricia laughed. “Mr. Marlow died almost a hundred years ago.”

  Jessica frowned. “Then why does he have a stocking?”

  “Because,” Chris spoke up. “Sometimes, even when someone is gone it feels like their spirit is still lingering nearby.”

  “Is Mr. Marlow still here?” Jessica asked.

  Chris winked at Jessica and said, “Who knows, maybe.”

  “You’re going to scare the child,” Richard scolded.

  “No I’m not.” Chris laughed. “Ghosts are only scary if they were bad people when they were
alive.”

  Jessica’s eyes widened. “Is his ghost here?”

  “Of course not!” Richard insisted.

  “Chris is just teasing, honey.” Patricia flashed Chris a reproving frown. “Aren’t you Chris?”

  “Sure, I’m just teasing, Jessica.” Chris smiled.

  “Then why does he have a stocking?” Jessica asked.

  “It’s sort of an honorary stocking, Jessica,” Danielle explained. “Walt Marlow used to live in this house, and well, I suppose in some way Chris is correct, in that after people die, sometimes it feels as if their spirit is still here. Not in a spooky scary way, but more of a comforting way.”

  “Is he the man in the big painting in the library?” Jessica asked.

  Danielle smiled at the child. “Yes he is.”

  “Then that’s okay. He looks nice.” Jessica grinned.

  Walt, who stood by the Christmas tree watching and listening said, “Thank you, Jessica. And thank you, Danielle, for the stocking.”

  “I just have one question,” Patricia asked. “Who did you get to embroider all the names? They did a beautiful job.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Danielle said with a laugh. “And it wasn’t some sweet little grandmother I hired. We have a T-shirt store in town that does silk screening and embroidering. I had them do it. So basically, a machine.”

  “That was very thoughtful,” Anna said from her place on the sofa.

  “Tomorrow morning, we’ll find out who in this room was good this past year—and who was naughty,” Danielle teased.

  “What do you mean?” Jessica asked.

  “I think she means,” Chris said with a chuckle, “the naughty ones will probably be getting coal in their stockings while the good ones will get nice gifts. But that’s up to Santa.”

  Jessica wrinkled her nose. “I hope I don’t get coal.”

  Anna pointed to the Christmas tree and said, “I see Danielle is still adding decorations to the tree. Are they antiques? They look old.”

  “I haven’t put any more ornaments on the tree.” Danielle looked to where Anna pointed and noticed two unfamiliar ornaments. She walked to the tree and removed one, examining it. “It’s beautiful, whose are they?”

  “Aren’t they yours?” Chris asked.

  Danielle shook her head. She removed the second one. “No. I didn’t put them here. I assume one of you did.”

  “Maybe Walt’s ghost put them on the tree!” Jessica excitedly suggested.

  “I seriously doubt that.” Patricia laughed.

  Holding the ornaments up for all to see, Danielle said, “Which one of you hung them? You better fess up, or I just might keep them! They’re beautiful, but they look like family heirlooms.”

  The moment Danielle held up the ornaments for her guests to see, both Patricia and Richard cocked their heads, a quizzical expression on each of their faces. Stepping to Danielle, they each reached for an ornament, taking them from her.

  “I guess this solves the mystery,” Danielle said cheerfully.

  Patricia shook her head. “No, but I had one just like this when I was a little girl.” She looked over to the one in Richard’s hand.

  Silently, Richard stared at the ornament, mesmerized.

  “We had one like that too,” Patricia explained.

  “You mean they aren’t yours?” Danielle asked.

  “No.” Patricia handed the ornament back to Danielle. She looked at Richard. “Are they yours?”

  Richard shook his head. “We never had ornaments like this. But…but…”

  “What?” Danielle asked.

  Richard abruptly shoved the ornament back to Danielle. “Nothing. It’s nothing. No. They aren’t mine.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Patricia followed Danielle into the kitchen, leaving Jessica in the living room. “Danielle, thank you again for the stockings. It was very sweet. I brought Jessica’s from home, I was going to ask if I could hang it, but I won’t now.”

  “If you want to hang her stocking, please do.” In the kitchen, Danielle began removing platters from one of the cabinets.

  “No. That’s fine. But I brought a few gifts for her stocking, so if you don’t mind if I put them in the one you hung for her.” Patricia leaned against the counter and watched Danielle.

  “Sure, as long as you don’t mind if I add a few items to the stocking. If everything doesn’t fit, she can always have two stockings.” Danielle flashed Patricia a grin.

  “That was really nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.” Patricia watched as Danielle stood on her tip toes, attempting to retrieve a platter from the top shelf. It was just out of her reach. Stepping next to Danielle, Patricia reached up and grabbed the platter and set it on the counter.

  “Thanks.” Danielle closed the cabinet doors. “As for the little gifts I got Jessica, it was fun. I don’t have any little girls to shop for at Christmas time.”

  “You’ve really made this a wonderful Christmas for us.”

  “I’m glad everyone seems to be getting along so well. I didn’t know if the guests would stick to themselves, or mingle.”

  “I’ve sincerely enjoyed everyone. Chris and Richard have both been such gentlemen, and Anna is sweet.”

  “Patricia, I have a question for you.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have any idea who added those ornaments to the tree?”

  Patricia shook her head. “No. I’d like to know myself. When I saw them, it was like I went back in time, to my childhood.”

  “Well, someone put them on the tree.” I need to ask Walt later if he knows.

  “One thing about this Christmas, it hasn’t lacked mystery,” Patricia said with a laugh.

  Danielle smiled. “I prefer to think of it as Christmas magic.”

  “Christmas magic…yes, I like that. Speaking of mystery and magic, I couldn’t find out anything about the group who gave us this trip. Are you sure you don’t know who they are?” Patricia asked.

  “No, sorry. Haven’t a clue. In fact, I did a little Internet search and came up blank. Couldn’t find a thing about the organization.”

  “When they paid for the trip, how did they pay for it? Was it in the organization’s name?”

  “No, they made it in your name, which is why I assumed you made the reservation. I had no idea it was made by a third party, not until you contacted me.”

  “What about the credit card they used? I would assume they used a credit card.”

  “They used a PayPal account. I’ll be honest; I didn’t pay much attention to it. I believe Lily took the reservation. But I’m sure it was in your name.” Danielle frowned. “I didn’t even think to look at my PayPal statement when I was looking up the organization online. I guess my Nancy Drew skills are slipping.”

  “That’s okay. I’m just curious about the organization. I suppose I should just be thankful and not overthink it.”

  “I understand your curiosity. Heck, if I was you it would probably drive me nuts.”

  “There is one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “According to the information I received, the prize also includes Christmas gifts, which are supposed to be delivered sometime today.”

  “Oh fun!”

  “Yeah. I really haven’t much for Jessica this year, and I haven’t told her about the other prizes, because…well, I just don’t know if they’re really going to show up.”

  “Why wouldn’t they? So far they came through with what they promised—the room, rental car, and plane tickets.”

  “I know. But still, I’ve always believed if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. As much as I’ve enjoyed this trip, a part of me is a little…nervous. Does that make sense?”

  “I think so. But don’t worry.”

  “Oh I’m not… I’ll confess, they were the reason I initially decided to come, because I felt I couldn’t pass them up since things had been so tight. But now, I’m just grateful to have this Christmas with Jessica and all the n
ice people we’ve met. But if no gifts arrive, I’m still glad I came.”

  After hanging the Christmas stockings and cleaning up after breakfast, the members of Marlow House—including its guests—began preparing for the Christmas Eve open house. Even Jessica pitched in, helping Lily plate up the Christmas cookies.

  Meatballs simmered in one slow cooker and oyster stew in another. Danielle confessed that oyster stew was not her favorite, but it was a recipe her father had made every Christmas Eve, so she felt compelled to include it for tradition’s sake.

  There were homemade tamales—purchased from a local woman who made them each year—and the customary chips and dip. Homemade cheeseballs, first rolled in diced walnuts and sprinkled with parsley, were arranged in the center of Christmas plates and surrounded by crackers. Sticks of celery, carrots, and zucchini, joined cherry tomatoes, cucumber slices, and bell pepper strips on platters, paired with bowls of ranch dressing. There were platters of cookies Danielle had baked, along with platters of sliced bread: pumpkin, zucchini, and banana. Danielle had baked them as well.

  Added to the feast was homemade rum cake baked by Ian, and Lily’s chocolate fudge. Marie Nichols had sent over her homemade divinity and peanut brittle for the party. Several days before Christmas Eve, Millie Samson had dropped off her famous fruit cake, and much to Lily’s surprise it was really quite delicious.

  Chris volunteered to help Ian man the bar, which had been set up in the library. Chris, Ian, and Richard were already on their second cocktail when the first guest arrived, who happened to be Ian’s younger sister, Kelly. Upon arriving, she grabbed Ian’s house key so she could drop her bags off across the street before returning to the party.

  After leaving her suitcases and Christmas packages off at Ian’s house, Kelly locked up the front door and glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes past 3:00 p.m. Leaving her car in Ian’s driveway, she started to walk across the street when a black Mercedes pulled up in front of Marlow House.

  Pausing for a moment on the sidewalk, she watched as a tall man with coal black hair got out of the Mercedes. Had she not seen his car, she would still have suspected he had money, considering the exquisite cut of his suit. The man briefly glanced her way, and she recognized the face: Peter Morris, the founder of Earthbound Spirits. She certainly hadn’t expected Morris to be on Danielle’s guest list.