The Ghost Who Was Says I Do

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Claudia stood up and started for the door.

  Rachel opened her eyes. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to go find Clint so we can have that conversation.”

  “If you can get him away from that Danielle for a few minutes,” Rachel said with a yawn before closing her eyes again.

  Claudia stepped out of the bedroom and looked down the hallway toward the stairs leading to the attic. According to what Danielle had told them when giving a quick tour of the house, Clint—or Walt, as Danielle called him—lived on the top floor. According to Danielle, the attic had been recently converted to a bedroom suite with a sitting area.

  Claudia stared up at the ceiling. “How did you get her to remodel the attic for you, Clint?” She hadn’t heard any footsteps overhead, so she was fairly certain Clint wasn’t in his room. She just hoped she would be able to catch him alone, without Danielle.

  Stepping lightly in her bare feet, Claudia started down the hallway, toward the stairs leading to the first floor. She paused a moment when she reached the closed door to Danielle’s bedroom. Pressing her ear against the door, she listened. Someone was in the room, she could hear them moving around, opening and closing drawers. Claudia smiled. She didn’t hear any voices, so she assumed Danielle was in the bedroom alone. Hopefully this meant she would find Clint alone downstairs, and the two of them could have a little talk. She continued down the hallway and to the stairs.

  Holding onto the handrail, she made her way down to the first floor, careful not to make a sound. She wanted to surprise Clint—catch him off guard. Once she reached the first floor, she headed to the parlor and then the living room. Both rooms were empty. The downstairs bedroom was locked, but she didn’t expect to find him in there, and no one was in the downstairs powder room. Just as she reached the doorway to the kitchen, she heard a woman’s voice.

  Claudia froze. A woman’s voice meant Walt was not alone. The door to the kitchen was ajar; she stepped closer to listen. To her surprise it was Danielle’s voice. She peeked inside the kitchen, hiding behind the partially closed door.

  Danielle sat at the kitchen table with Marie, drinking a cup of coffee and dissecting a cinnamon roll—popping each small piece into her mouth before breaking off another morsel.

  “When they wake up from their nap, I’ll go back up there and keep an eye on them,” Marie told Danielle. “See what those two are up to.”

  “They must be the ones who sent that letter.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Where’s Walt?”

  “He went upstairs to get those notes he left in my room. I imagine he’s up in his room by now, working on his new book.”

  “Don’t you think he should stay down here, keep an eye on those two?”

  “Considering they’re upstairs, not sure what good it would do. He can’t really lurk around guest bedrooms—especially women guests. It’s not like Walt’s invisible anymore.”

  Claudia stared dumbfounded into the kitchen. At first she thought Danielle was on the telephone. But then she spied the cellphone sitting on the counter, plugged into a charger. The animated way in which Danielle carried on the conversation with her imaginary friend—the hand motions, the facial expressions—it made Claudia think she was talking to someone sitting at the table with her—not talking on the phone. But there was no one else at the table.

  Of course, if Danielle was wearing a Bluetooth headset, it would be possible for her to talk on the phone while it was plugged in on the counter. Claudia frowned. From where she stood, it didn’t look as if Danielle was wearing a headset. Curious, Claudia listened in for a few more minutes to the one-sided conversation. Unable to contain her curiosity a moment longer, she barged into the kitchen with a cheerful hello.

  Danielle immediately stopped talking and looked up to Claudia.

  “I thought you were talking to someone in here,” Claudia said as she walked to the table, glancing around.

  “Umm…sometimes I think out loud,” Danielle muttered. “I thought you were taking a nap?”

  “I was wondering if I could get a glass of water to take back upstairs with me.”

  “There’s a pitcher of fresh iced water and glasses in your room, didn’t you see it?”

  “Is there?” Claudia smiled. “I must have missed that. Well…” Claudia yawned. “I think I will take that nap now. Thank you.”

  Her sister’s snoring was not the reason Claudia shook her awake a few minutes later. “Rachel!”

  Groggily opening her eyes, Rachel glared at her sister. “Why did you do that?”

  “Danielle Boatman is certifiable!”

  Frowning, Rachel rubbed her eyes and sat up in the bed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I went downstairs looking for Walt, and I found Danielle in the kitchen, talking to herself!”

  Rachel shrugged. “I talk to myself sometimes.”

  “No. This was a full-on conversation. At first I thought she was on the phone.”

  “Maybe she was.” Rachel yawned again, now fully awake.

  Claudia perched on the edge of her sister’s bed. “There was no cellphone in her hand, and she didn’t have anything in her ears. She was having a conversation with an imaginary friend. It was not like someone just talking to themselves.”

  “So tell me, in this conversation, was she like asking herself questions and then answering herself? I worked with a woman who used to do that. A real weirdo.”

  Claudia shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that. It was a conversation—like something you might hear if she had been on the phone. You know, with missing pieces of the conversation so you don’t know exactly what they’re talking about. Like someone is answering her, or asking her a question. It was freaking bizarre.”

  “Does she know you overheard her?”

  “Yes. I wanted to see if she was wearing a headset, so I walked into the kitchen under the guise of needing some drinking water.”

  Rachel glanced to the table with the pitcher of water and glasses. “We have drinking water.”

  “I know that. I forgot. But that’s not the point.”

  “So what did she say?”

  “She said she was thinking aloud.”

  “Maybe she was.” Rachel shrugged.

  Claudia adamantly shook her head. “No. You would have had to have been there. Danielle Boatman thought she was talking to her imaginary friend. She’s off her rocker. No wonder Clint has been able to manipulate her.”

  “Aren’t you making more of this than it really is? I mean seriously, lots of people talk to themselves.”

  “Do you know what she said? She said, ‘It’s not like Walt’s invisible anymore.’”

  Fifteen

  Wrapped in a down parka jacket that was two sizes two large, Danielle looked up at the gray sky from where she sat on the porch swing. It wasn’t much colder than it had been the day before, yet yesterday the skies were uncharacteristically clear, blue and sunny for January, making it feel warmer.

  “What in the world are you doing out here in the cold?” Walt called to Danielle after he stepped out of the house a few minutes later. Danielle glanced over to Walt and patted the empty spot on the swing. He had put on a coat before stepping outside, so she wasn’t worried about him freezing.

  “I needed some fresh air,” Danielle told him when he was close enough to hear without her shouting.

  “Is Marie still eavesdropping on our new guests?” Walt asked when he sat down a moment later.

  “Yes. Wish she wouldn’t have left her post earlier.” Danielle went on to tell him what had transpired in the kitchen.

  When she was done with the telling, Walt gave a little shrug and chuckled. “So they think you were talking to yourself?”

  “It was embarrassing.” Danielle groaned.

  “And Marie still doesn’t know any more about them?”

  “Maybe she does now. Like I said, she went back up to the bedroom after Claudia left the kitchen. I imagine Marie is
listening to them discuss how crazy I am.”

  Just as Walt was about to respond, a car pulled up in front of Marlow House and parked.

  “I wonder if that’s the other guests.” Danielle watched as a man and woman got out of the vehicle and looked toward Marlow House.

  “They’re coming this way,” Walt said.

  Danielle stood up. “According to Claudia, they aren’t part of their group. So if whoever sent Clint that letter is one of our guests, I suspect they’re the ones already upstairs, considering Claudia is obviously lying about knowing you.”

  Walt got up from the swing and walked with Danielle to the front door.

  “Is this Marlow House?” the man called out as he and his companion neared Walt and Danielle. He carried a suitcase in each hand.

  “Yes, it is. Welcome,” Danielle greeted them as she stood with Walt on the front porch. She noticed the way the woman stared at Walt. It was as if she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Danielle wondered if she was a fan of his book. She guessed the couple was in their late forties or early fifties. The man wasn’t especially tall, maybe five nine—stocky with shortly cropped brown hair and brown eyes, and a clean-shaven face. He wore dress slacks and what appeared to be a button-up dress shirt under his leather jacket. The wife wore her coal black hair shortly cropped and heavily gelled. Danielle wondered if her legs were freezing under the baggy silky slacks she wore, yet suspected the snowy-white, faux-fur jacket was keeping her warm.

  “Are you Danielle Boatman?” the man asked, setting down the suitcases and offering his hand to Danielle.

  “Yes. I assume you are Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe?” Danielle shook his hand and then his wife’s while Walt stood silently by her side.

  Mr. Thorpe’s eyes were on Walt when he told Danielle, “Yes, but please, call me Dirk. And this is my wife, Tanya.”

  “This is Walt Marlow. He’s one of our full-time residents,” Danielle explained, “and my fiancé.”

  “Marlow?” Dirk said, now shaking Walt’s hand. “The same name as the bed and breakfast?”

  “A distant cousin built Marlow House,” Walt explained, now shaking Tanya’s hand.

  “And now you live here?” Tanya said.

  Walt smiled. “Yes.”

  “So tell me, Mr. Marlow, what is it you do?” Dirk asked.

  “Walt’s an author,” Danielle answered for him.

  Dirk glanced to Danielle and back to Walt. “Really? Anything I might have read?”

  “Moon Runners,” Walt told him.

  Dirk shrugged. “Sorry, I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Can we go inside? It’s freezing out here!” Tanya whined.

  “Oh yes, I’m so sorry. Please come in,” Danielle apologized as she quickly opened the front door. Tanya hurried into the house while her husband picked up the two suitcases and followed her inside, Walt and Danielle trailing after them.

  Once inside, Dirk set the suitcases on the wood floor and looked around, taking in the rich dark paneling and enormous entry hall. He let out a long whistle. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”

  “Why, thank you.” Danielle smiled.

  “So let me understand, this place was built by your distant cousin, but it belongs to Ms. Boatman here. Does this mean you’re cousins or something?” Dirk asked.

  “I don’t think they could be getting married if they were cousins,” Tanya told him.

  Dirk shrugged. “I know of cousins who’ve married.”

  “No, no relation,” Walt explained.

  Dirk arched his brows. “Well, that’s one way to get the old estate back in the family,” he muttered, looking around the spacious entry hall again. “How is the housing market up here?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I don’t really know. But I have a friend who is a Realtor, if you’re interested in looking at property while you’re up here.”

  “Only if he does referrals.”

  “Referrals?” Danielle frowned.

  “Dirk is a real estate broker in California,” Tanya explained.

  “Have you always been an author?” Dirk asked Walt.

  Walt shook his head. “No. No, I haven’t.”

  “Really? So what did you do before you started writing?” Dirk asked.

  “Umm…I was a real estate agent,” Walt said.

  “Then I guess you know all about how referrals work.” Dirk picked up his suitcases again. “Can you take us to our room, or do we have to sign in somewhere first?”

  “You can leave your luggage here, and we can step in the parlor for a moment and take care of check-in,” Danielle told him.

  “Here, I’ll take your luggage up to your room for you,” Walt offered.

  “Really? Imagine that, an author and a bellboy. Do I have to tip you?” Dirk handed Walt his suitcases.

  After listening to her sister rant about crazy Danielle for fifteen minutes, Rachel finally said, “Hold that thought. I really got to use the bathroom.” She jumped from the bed and dashed from the room. When she returned five minutes later, she was carrying a black cat in her arms.

  “Where did you get that?” Claudia asked.

  “He was standing outside the bathroom door when I walked out. Isn’t he gorgeous? This must be the cat Danielle mentioned. I think she said his name is Max.” Rachel sat on the edge of her bed, Max now on her lap as she stroked his back. The cat began to purr.

  “Really, Max, don’t turn traitor on us,” Marie said from her perch on the dresser. Max looked up to the spirit and meowed. “Fickle feline.”

  “Just don’t let him on my bed,” Claudia warned. “I don’t want to sleep with a bunch of cat hair.”

  “Look at his ears,” Rachel said as she tweaked the white tips of Max’s otherwise black ears. “I love these markings!”

  “That one”—Marie nodded to Claudia—“knew Clint. I’m not sure about the one who’s holding you…yes, Max, she seems nice, but I think they’re up to something. They lied to Walt and Danielle.”

  “Oh, by the way, I think those other guests just arrived. I heard someone come in with Clint and Danielle.”

  “Clint is downstairs?” Claudia asked.

  “I guess. I could hear them talking. They’re obviously going to be staying in one of the rooms on this floor.”

  “Danielle said they’re also from Huntington Beach. That’s weird,” Claudia said.

  “All of this is weird,” Rachel muttered.

  Claudia walked to the door and opened it just a few inches, peering out into the hallway. She spied Clint going into a bedroom a few doors down, carrying two suitcases. A moment later, he came out of the room without the suitcases and headed back downstairs.

  Claudia eased the door closed and turned to her sister. “Clint was just up here, but he went back downstairs again.”

  “I thought you wanted to talk to him?”

  “I do, but he went back downstairs.” Claudia walked over to a chair and sat down. “Are you going back to sleep?”

  Rachel shrugged. “You already woke me up. I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep again.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to tell you what I overheard.”

  The sisters chatted for another ten minutes—never once mentioning Walt, Clint, Danielle or their reason for coming to Marlow House. Growing bored listening to the tedious discussion, Marie focused her attention on a cat figurine sitting on a curio shelf. A moment later it toppled off, heading to the floor. Suddenly realizing the object might break on impact, Marie instantly reversed its direction, sending it back to the shelf, where it resumed its original position.

  Rachel, who had been looking at her sister while discussing where they might go for dinner, caught a glimpse of the figurine from the corner of her eye. She looked over to it and froze. “Did you see that?”

  Claudia frowned. “See what?”

  Rachel pointed to the object. “That cat, it fell off the shelf for a moment.”

  “What do you mean it fell off the shelf for a moment?”

  �
�It just like…dropped off the shelf and then went back up on it. All by itself.”

  Claudia stood up and rolled her eyes. “Rachel, maybe you should try taking a nap again. When you start seeing things, it’s time to get more sleep.” She started for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to use the bathroom and then see if I can find Clint. I need to find him alone so I can let him know why we’re really here.”

  “You…you aren’t going to leave me here alone, are you?” Rachel looked with unease at the cat figurine.

  Claudia chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you have more to worry about with the cat in your lap than the one sitting on the shelf.” She picked up her purse from the floor, opened it and then removed a folded piece of paper.

  “I suppose I could arrange it so you can talk to Walt alone. The sooner he does, the sooner we can find out what you’re up to,” Marie said before disappearing from the room.

  Claudia stepped into the hallway, leaving Rachel alone in the bedroom with Max, looking nervously at the cat figurine.

  Sixteen

  Five minutes later Claudia washed her hands in one of the guest bathrooms on the second floor. She heard muffled voices in the hallway and figured it was the guests who had recently arrived—the ones whose luggage Clint had put in one of the other rooms. She heard a door open and close, and then the voices went silent. Assuming whoever it was had gone into the room where Clint had taken the suitcases, Claudia looked in the mirror and combed her fingers through her hair, fluffing it a bit to give it volume. Leaning closer to her reflection, she removed stray makeup from the corners of her eyes and pursed her lips, wishing she had grabbed her makeup bag.

  Several minutes later Claudia stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway and about ran into Dirk Thorpe, who was just getting ready to try the bathroom door. They both jumped back in surprise.

  “Dirk?”

  “Claudia?”

  The two stood in the hallway and stared at each other.