The Ghost and the Christmas Spirit

by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

  “She died about six months ago, and one of the shops that we went into had an old trunk of hers that they bought at auction. We were curious and went by her house. From what I heard, she had money, but the condition of that property, she obviously didn’t spend it on house maintenance,” Danielle explained.

  After tossing her napkin and paper plate in the trash can, Melony leaned back in the chair again, yet this time kept her feet on the floor. “I remember when she hired the people who took care of her.”

  “You mean the ones she didn’t even mention in her will?” Adam asked. “In spite of how long they had taken care of her.”

  Melony gave Adam a nod. “Yeah, I can’t help but feel sorry for them, considering they took care of her for about twenty years and won’t see any retirement other than some Social Security.”

  “According to Mathew, she didn’t spend much money aside from visiting yard sales and buying craft supplies,” Danielle said.

  “What I remember,” Melony began, “she was in her sixties when her husband died. She had never driven a car, and her husband had always handled things like the grocery shopping and running errands. One of the first things she did after he died was look for a live-in couple to take care of her. But before she hired anyone, she had my father find a company to completely inventory the estate—down to the last pencil.”

  “Why did she want an inventory?” Danielle asked.

  “She didn’t want anyone to steal from her. Every year, she insisted the company inventory the estate again—to see if anything was missing. It was her way of keeping the couple honest, I guess. From what I heard, she was quite obsessive about it.”

  Danielle shrugged. “In all fairness, when someone is alone and getting older, that happens all too often—caretakers steal from the elderly.”

  “True,” Melony said with a nod. “And as I recall, the couple they hired was actually pretty good-natured about it all. At least, from what I heard. Which, considering everything, I do think it was pretty sucky when they were not even mentioned in her will. All those years of loyalty. Nothing.”

  “From what I understand, it’s not like she had anything worth stealing,” Adam added. “Not unless they got ahold of her bank account.”

  “From what my mother told me, Eloise Winterborne was always a frugal woman. She married into money, but hadn’t grown up with it. Of course, the Winterbornes might have had a nice house back then and had money in the bank, but they were never known for being extravagant,” Melony explained.

  “They did have one notable treasure—the Winterborne engagement ring,” Adam reminded her. He looked at Danielle and said, “It was probably not as valuable as your Missing Thorndike, but I suspect it was close.”

  “I heard about that, but I never saw it,” Melony noted.

  “Grandma told me about it,” Adam said.

  “What was the Winterborne engagement ring?” Danielle asked.

  “It was handed down in the Winterborne family. It was Eloise’s engagement ring. An antique ring with perfect diamonds. Quite exquisite. From what I heard, she sold it a few years before she died,” Melony said.

  The next minute the conversation was interrupted when Adam’s grandmother suddenly appeared and called out cheerfully, “You are all here!”

  The only people in the office who knew of the spirit’s arrival were Walt and Danielle. They briefly glanced Marie’s way while pretending nothing unusual had just happened. Marie, the spirit of a ninety-something woman who had died—yet who preferred to assume the appearance of an eighty-something woman—stood in the middle of the office, wearing a floral sundress and floppy straw hat. She glanced around for somewhere to sit, but when she saw all the nearby chairs were taken, she opted to float in midair on what appeared to be an invisible chair.

  “So what are we all talking about?” Marie asked. “Did you have a nice visit with Mathew? I would have gone with you, but Eva wants me to go with her to Astoria tomorrow, something going on at the Film Museum she wants to attend. I didn’t see any reason to go twice in one week.”

  Unable to answer Marie’s question without sounding like a crazy person to Adam and Melony, Walt asked Melony, “If Eloise Winterborne had plenty of money, and if she was as frugal as you say, why would she sell something like her engagement ring?”

  “Ahh, we are talking about Eloise Winterborne,” Marie chirped.

  “I don’t really know,” Melony said.

  “Well, I do,” Marie answered. “Emma told me about the woman; she went to her church. Eloise Winterborne was always complaining about those people who worked for her, claimed they were stealing things. She couldn’t prove it. But she knew they were. Or so she told Emma. But if they were stealing things, then why not just fire them? According to what she told Emma, she pulled a fast one and sold the ring so they couldn’t get to it. She had already stopped wearing it because of the arthritis in her hands.”

  Adam had been speculating on why he thought Eloise had sold the ring while Marie told what she knew. Danielle found it difficult to keep up with both conversations, but managed to hear Adam say, “It’s not like she had any family left to hand it down to anyway. I guess she figured she might as well sell it now and get the money.”

  “So why were you talking about Eloise Winterborne?” Marie asked after they left Adam’s office. The ghost hovered behind Walt’s and Danielle’s seats in the Packard.

  “We bought some items that had been auctioned off from her estate,” Danielle told her. “Have a look in that small blue paper bag back there. There is one Walt thinks Adam might like.”

  Marie glanced down at the sack. It floated up to her, hovering in midair. The next moment the Christmas shoe floated from the bag. The spirit laughed. “I’m not sure why you imagine Adam would want this.”

  Danielle glanced to the back seat and smiled. “No, the other thing in the sack.”

  The gaudy shoe floated back into the bag, and up floated the framed photo. It hovered in front of Marie’s face.

  “Is that my father?” Marie squealed in delight.

  “It certainly is,” Walt said.

  “He looks so young there. Where was this taken?” Marie asked.

  “I don’t know. That came from the Winterborne estate,” Walt told her. “We thought you might know who that other man is.”

  “No, I don’t recognize him. How odd,” Marie said. “I didn’t know those people, and from what Emma told me, they moved to Astoria years after my father died.”

  “The Winterbornes weren’t the first people to live in that house?” Danielle asked.

  “No. I wonder how my father’s photograph ended up at the Winterborne estate,” Marie asked.

  “There are several logical possibilities,” Walt suggested.

  “Which are?” Marie asked.

  “You might not be aware of the fact, but your father was a bit smitten with the young lady who lived in that house—which I know now was before the Winterbornes purchased the property. Perhaps the picture was taken back then when he was seeing her, and it somehow got left in the house when it sold—like a box of items forgotten in the attic. But I believe the second possibility is more plausible,” Walt explained.

  “And what is that?” Marie asked.

  “That Eloise Winterborne, who Mathew claimed had a penchant for picking up things at yard sales, purchased it at some yard sale in Astoria—maybe even from some family member related to that other fellow in the photograph.”

  “I do believe Adam will love this picture,” Marie said happily as the framed photograph settled back into the sack.

  “You were saying back at Adam’s office that Eloise sold the ring because she was afraid her employees were going to take it?” Danielle asked.

  “That’s what she told Emma. Both Emma and I never understood why anyone would keep someone in their employ—especially one who lived in your home—that you didn’t trust. But I suppose she must have felt she needed someone and didn’t know how to go about hir
ing a replacement. After all, this was probably about five years ago or less, according to what Emma told me. Eloise Winterborne was in her eighties back then, and unlike me, who had a grandson I could rely on, she had no one.”

  “I wonder if she had her attorney find a buyer for the ring. I know when I tried to find a buyer for the Missing Thorndike, I didn’t know how to go about it. Which is why I still have it,” Danielle said.

  “No, she didn’t. You will never guess who bought it. From what she told Emma, she sold it to Samuel Hayman.”

  “Samuel?” Danielle asked in surprise. Samuel Hayman had owned the jewelry store in Frederickport, which had been founded by his grandfather decades earlier. He had also made an unsuccessful attempt to abscond with the diamonds and emeralds from Danielle’s Missing Thorndike, which had earned him some prison time.

  “Yes. Although, I don’t believe he was the one who actually bought it. We all know Samuel didn’t have that kind of money,” Marie said.

  “No. If anything, he probably found her a buyer and then kept some sort of commission,” Danielle suggested.

  Six

  The next stop for Walt and Danielle, before heading home, was the Frederickport Museum. When they pulled up to park, Marie said her goodbyes and vanished. Together Walt and Danielle walked up to the entrance of the museum, Walt carrying the large package they had brought back from Astoria. When they walked inside, they were greeted by someone they hadn’t expected to see—Elizabeth Sparks.

  Elizabeth, a talented art teacher with the Frederickport school district, also gave private art lessons and classes, as well as occasionally working for the area law enforcement when they needed a police sketch done. She had also worked with Danielle on a local fundraiser to raise money for the art department.

  “Elizabeth, nice to see you,” Danielle greeted the other woman. They quickly exchanged hugs. “Do they have you doing docent duty today?”

  Elizabeth laughed at the idea. “No. I gave a craft class today. A lot of people showed up. We were making tree ornaments.”

  “Sounds fun,” Danielle said.

  Elizabeth eyed the package Walt carried. “What do you have there?”

  “Millie sent out an email last night, asking if anyone was going to Astoria in the next week,” Danielle began.

  “Ahh…I got that email too. So you were the one who responded, volunteered to pick it up?” Elizabeth asked.

  Danielle shrugged. “We were going to be there anyway.”

  “Where would you like me to put it?” Walt asked.

  “Probably in the back office. I’m the only one here—everyone else left a few minutes ago.” Elizabeth glanced at her watch. “Let me lock the front door first. We’re due to close in a couple of minutes anyway, and I would rather no one walk in while no one is up front.”

  Walt and Danielle waited patiently while Elizabeth locked the front door. They then followed her through the museum, to the back office.

  “Now with the Bonnet paintings here, they are super careful about not leaving the front unlocked unless someone is up there,” Elizabeth explained. “Although the Bonnet section is already locked down for the night with the alarm on.”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Danielle said. Two of the Bonnet paintings had belonged to Danielle—and the third had belonged to the museum. After their true value had been discovered, the paintings had been sold to the Glandon Foundation, which had in turn put them on display at the Frederickport Museum, with added security.

  When they reached the back of the museum, Danielle spied a banquet table filled with handmade ornaments. She stopped to look at them while Elizabeth showed Walt where he could set the heavy package. When the two returned to Danielle, they found her sitting at the table, looking at the ornaments.

  “These are wonderful,” Danielle told Elizabeth.

  “Thank you. But I didn’t make them all. That’s what my class made today. I have to leave them here to dry.” Elizabeth took a seat at the table with Danielle.

  “I sort of wish I had taken your class today,” Danielle said, still inspecting the ornaments.

  Walt joined them at the table. “I think these are much nicer than the Christmas shoe.”

  Elizabeth looked up. “Christmas shoe?”

  Danielle chuckled. “Today when we were in Astoria, we stopped at a little curio shop and picked up a couple of items that came from a recent estate sale up there. I don’t know if you have heard of the Winterborne estate?”

  “You mean Eloise Winterborne?” Elizabeth asked.

  “You knew her?” Danielle asked.

  “Sure. Sweet little lady. She was a regular at my craft classes. I always made sure to send her a flyer if I was having one. She was quite creative.”

  “Danielle bought one of her creations—the shop owner called it a Christmas shoe. Frankly, I don’t really understand it, a high-heel shoe with Christmas wrapping paper glued all over its sole and fake flowers glued inside.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “While Eloise never made anything like that in any of my classes, I have a feeling I may have given her the idea. I believe I once told her the story of my family’s Christmas shoe.”

  “Your family has a Christmas shoe?” Danielle asked.

  Elizabeth smiled. “It was more a family tradition—or maybe a family joke? Perhaps a little of both.”

  “I have to hear this,” Danielle insisted.

  Fifteen minutes later, Walt and Danielle sat with Elizabeth in the museum office, each sipping a cup of hot tea.

  “It all began when my aunt got married,” Elizabeth told them. “One of my grandmother’s close friends was a little like Eloise. She loved doing arts and crafts. After finding out my aunt’s bridesmaids were wearing blue, she spray-painted a high-heel shoe blue. And we are talking a large shoe—size twelve at least. She covered it with countless little fake gems and glittery bobbles. I imagine much of it came from old costume jewelry.”

  “What did she intend to do with it?” Walt asked.

  “She gave it to my aunt as a wedding gift. Fortunately my grandmother’s friend was not there when my aunt opened it. I understand the reaction was quite comical. I think most assumed it was some elaborate joke. But from the pictures I saw of it, it was no joke to that dear little lady. She must have spent hours making that shoe for my aunt—and I’m sure she believed it was truly beautiful.”

  “What did your aunt do with it?” Danielle asked.

  “Probably shoved it in some closet. I don’t think my aunt displayed it in her home. But when my parents married, my aunt wrapped it up and gave it to my mother as a shower gift. After all, Mom had relentlessly teased her sister about the shoe.”

  Danielle laughed.

  “The funny thing, the same little lady made my mother a shoe. Mom’s was painted lavender to match the color of her bridesmaid dresses. It was actually my mother’s second marriage. The first time, she had eloped when she was very young. When she married Dad, my grandmother insisted she have a big wedding like her sister.”

  “So your mom had a pair of them?” Danielle said.

  Elizabeth grinned. “Yes, but only until my aunt and uncle moved into their new house. My mother gave her the pair of wedding shoes as a housewarming gift.”

  Danielle laughed. “I bet they loved that.”

  “From what I heard, my aunt thought it was hilarious—my uncle not so much.”

  “So what is a Christmas shoe?” Walt asked.

  “The wedding shoes were passed back and forth between Mom and my aunt until my uncle made them disappear. I don’t think he thought the whole thing was very funny.”

  “That’s too bad,” Danielle said.

  “Years later, when I was in grade school, my mother told my brother and me the story of the wedding shoes. I was in third grade at the time. It was right before Christmas. My grandfather was very ill. We were staying with them, helping my grandmother take care of him. We decided it would be fun to bring back th
e shoe—this time as a Christmas shoe. The idea was to add some laughter to the holiday. While Grandpa was pretty ill, he always had a great sense of humor, and I think he liked the idea of us making another shoe and then springing it on my aunt and her husband that Christmas, when we were all opening our gifts.”

  “So you made a Christmas shoe?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes. We found an inexpensive pair of high-heel shoes at a discount store. Then we brought them home and had fun decorating one—trying to make it as gaudy as possible. I remember how much fun Grandpa had watching us and giving us suggestions on what to glue on next.”

  “So how did your aunt like her gift?” Walt asked.

  “Everyone got a good laugh. For the next ten years or so that shoe bounced from family member to family member. The trick was figuring out how to wrap it so the recipient wouldn’t know they were getting it. We had a lot of fun with that shoe. My grandfather passed away the next year, but we kept it going in his honor. Sort of a tangible family joke—something that may seem rather silly to others but had meaning to us.”

  “So who is getting the shoe this year?” Danielle asked.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Our family’s Christmas shoe went the way of the wedding shoes.”

  “Your uncle got rid of it too?” Danielle asked.

  Elizabeth laughed. “No—at least I don’t think so. Anyway, I remember telling Eloise about our Christmas shoe, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what gave her the idea to make her own. But in Eloise’s case, I imagine she used it as a Christmas decoration; she really did not have anyone to give it to.”

  They finished their tea and Danielle asked, “What plans do you have for Christmas? Any more craft classes?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, today was my last class. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my Christmas break, catching up on sleep and visiting with family.”

  “Do your parents live in town?” Walt asked.

  “They used to. They moved to Portland a few years back. But they’re coming to spend Christmas with me. I’m really excited they’re going to be here. It just seems as the years go by, our family gets scattered farther and farther apart. When we were kids, we would spend every Christmas with my aunt and uncle’s family. But they live in California now, and their one son lives in Colorado, and the other lives in Tennessee. It has been years since I’ve seen them. And my brother, well, I haven’t spent Christmas with him for ages.”