Merry, Merry Ghost (5 page)

He grinned. “Sorry, Jake. Forever young, that’s our revered aunt. I forgot myself in the emotion of the moment, confronting the possibility of a motored bed and the joys of staying in a glass igloo. Glass sounds more appealing than ice. Isn’t that how igloos are customarily made, with big chunks of ice?” His eyes gleamed with mirth. “Who would have thought as we gathered for Harrison’s birthday that he would share this amazing tidbit of knowledge with us. Obviously, Harrison, you are a connoisseur of Christmas lore. Tell us, what are the Christmas customs in Hawaii?”

Harrison grinned. “You pulled the wrong string, Tucker. I am a walking encyclopedia of Christmas trivia. I always try to learn something new for each birthday. In Hawaii, Santa Claus arrives on a bright red outrigger.”

“Man, that sounds like my idea of Christmas.” Tucker looked toward the door. “Hey, Peg, Gina. What fascinating tidbits about Santa can you share? Me, I like the idea of wassail and lots of it.” He reached out, gripped a poker, and jabbed at a log. Sparks whirled upward.

I am not a fan of apple cider laced with sweet juices, but I was very hungry. I hovered near the buffet. If I were adroit…I glanced around the room. Every eye was on Peg. Though it lacked manners, I decided to forgo a plate. I could easily carry several chunks of cheese and some strawberries and crackers in my hand. I moved fast and no one noticed the tidbits in the air. I dropped far enough behind the sofa that I could eat without notice but still see everyone.

Peg stood stiffly by the opened doors. “I have exciting news.” Her voice was brisk but her face looked strained. The calico cat walked purposefully toward the fireplace and settled on a green silk cushion and began to groom.

The strawberries were succulent. I glanced toward the small bowl of sour cream on the sideboard. That would have been nice, but I wasn’t trying to indulge myself. I was simply building up strength. The crackers snapped as I munched. Fortunately the fire crackled at the same time. Too soon my snack was gone. I was tempted to forage again for food, but instead settled on an empty settee.

Gina skirted around Peg, walked toward the buffet. “We have company.” Her tone was neutral. She took a plate, spread pâté on several crackers.

Tucker looked eager. “A gorgeous redhead maybe?”

Startled, I looked down. Not a trace of my sweater or slacks was visible. I didn’t think I’d appeared. Not, of course, that I see myself as gorgeous. Absolutely not. Truly, I was thinking only in terms of being redheaded.

I am definitely redheaded. Flaming copper, to be precise. I breathed a sigh of relief and brushed back a loose curl.

“No such luck for you, bud,” Gina muttered. She pulled an ottoman closer to the fire. She looked at Tucker, legs outstretched from the gilt chair. “Don’t hog the warmth, bro.” She balanced the plate on her lap.

Peg stood a few feet inside the door. She clasped her hands as she spoke. “A little boy arrived here tonight.

There was a note with him. He’s Mitch’s son, Keith. Susan told us to put him in the blue room.”

The hiss and crackle of the fire was loud and distinct in sudden silence. No one moved or spoke.

I looked around the room.

Jake’s big blue eyes stared blankly at Peg. A shaky hand clasped at a strand of pearls. She looked like a good-natured pig confronted with an unfathomable reality, an alligator in the kitchen or a crevasse that yawned without warning.

The lanky young man still bent toward the fire, the poker gripped in his hand. The face turned toward Peg was immobile, dark eyebrows slashed over light brown eyes, bony features rigid.

Red-faced Harrison’s bonhomie drained away. He stared, sandy brows drawing down in a frown.

His wife pushed dark-rimmed glasses higher on her nose, looking as alert as a prairie dog poking out of a burrow and sighting a predatory badger.

Gina stared into the fire, her narrow face somber, her gaze mournful. The crackers on her plate remained untouched.

Peg’s smile was hopeful though her eyes were anxious. “Isn’t this great news? Christmas will be special this year.”

Jake’s head jerked toward the hallway. Her face was suddenly blanched. Her lips quivered. “Susan isn’t well.” Breathing heavily, she came to her feet. “I’ll go and see. This is absurd. Who brought this child? He can’t stay here. Whoever brought him must take him where he lives.”

Peg lifted a hand. “Susan’s gone to bed. She doesn’t want to see anyone now. We don’t know who brought him. He was left on the porch with a note that says Mitch is his father. There’s a birth certificate that lists Mitch as his father.”

Jake held to the back of a chair. “There has to be some mistake.”

Tucker’s face relaxed. He scratched at his bristly chin. “Don’t get in a swivet, Jake. He’s either Mitch’s boy or he isn’t. Susan will find out. Well”—his expression was bemused—“you can’t say we aren’t starting off the holidays with a bang.” He glanced at Gina. “What do you think, sis?”

“We didn’t know what happened to Mitch after he ran away.” Her voice was low and sorrowful. “I guess now we’ll find out.”

Harrison looked like a man whose boat had sprung a leak and there’s no land in sight. “If it’s true”—his words were reluctant—“it would be a great happiness for Susan. Still, this unannounced arrival seems suspicious to me. We may have to step in and protect Susan since she isn’t well.”

His wife lifted a hand as if warning him. “Susan can deal with anything, sick or well. And”—her eyes were thoughtful—“she deserves some happiness.” She looked around the room. “I’m sure you all agree.”

“Oh, of course.” “Certainly.” “Hope this isn’t a disappointment ultimately.” “Wade Farrell will have to be very careful.”

Beyond the flurry of words, I sensed shock and, more, a flash of white-hot fury.

Wiggins had been uneasy on Keith’s behalf.

I looked around a room filled with people who apparently resented his arrival. I had to find out why his existence caused such shock. And dismay.

In the blue room
, I tucked the wool blanket around Keith’s shoulders. That should keep him toasty. I stepped to the window, eased it up a bit. Fresh air makes everyone sleep better.

The gathering downstairs had broken up. The distant sound of voices faded. Car engines murmured. The front door closed.

I didn’t know who was staying in the house. I assumed Jake was a resident. She had an aura of proprietorship. I didn’t know if Peg was a guest but she’d promised to stay in the room with Keith so obviously she was to be in the house overnight.

I glanced toward the ceiling. Not that Wiggins would be hovering there, but he was either at the Department of Good Intentions or possibly out checking on his emissaries. Or was I the only one who required close supervision? I preferred to think I was one among many. Certainly I’d done nothing this evening to require his counsel. Surely the brief interlude with Rob and Dil was acceptable. After all, they may have sensed my presence, but I definitely had remained unseen. Here at Pritchard House, I’d worked quietly behind the scenes. I felt a quiet pride.

I sat on the edge of the opposite twin bed. When the house settled for the night, I planned to explore the kitchen. I needed a glass of milk and a roast beef sandwich for energy. As for sleeping accommodations, the chaise longue looked inviting.

I hoped Peg wouldn’t feel crowded with the three of us there. I’d do my best not only to remain silent and invisible, but to contain my natural energy. Bobby Mac claimed I carried energy with me like static electricity.

However, for now, Keith was sleeping soundly, all was well here, and the night was still young. Perhaps I could discover who lived in Pritchard House in addition to Susan and why her grandson’s arrival had caused such consternation.

Downstairs in the living
room, Peg and Gina loaded trays with plates and bowls.

Jake paced nervously by the fireplace. The cat lifted her head and gazed with unblinking golden eyes. Jake flung out a hand toward her daughter. “I don’t understand why you didn’t call me. I should have been summoned at once. The idea of a child abandoned on the doorstep is appalling. Someone has been criminally negligent, whoever the child is.”

“Mother”—Peg looked harried but determined—“he came with papers, including his birth certificate.”

“Papers.” Jake’s voice was sharp. She waved her hand in dismissal. “Everyone knows that anything can be faked now. You can’t trust pictures on the Internet. Anything can be put in a picture. Anything at all. The other day I saw a picture of the president signing a wildlife bill and there was a flamingo on one side of his desk and a wolf on the other and they looked real as could be. I mean, they were real but they weren’t in the picture until someone put them there.” She nodded her head for emphasis. “So you see what I mean. What’s a birth certificate? We’ll have to see about those papers. But when he came, you should have told me. I take care of everything about the house. Susan relies on me utterly.” Her face flushed an unbecoming pink. “It was outrageous to take him upstairs to Susan without any kind of checking! Peg, what were you thinking?”

Peg turned, her hands tightly gripping the laden tray. “Mother, I did what I thought best. It happened so suddenly.”

Gina’s gaze was curious. “Hold up, Jake. If Peg had told you, what would you have done differently?”

“I’d have done something.” Jake’s face twisted in frustration. “We could have called Wade, asked him to check into everything, not troubled Susan until everything was certain.”

Peg’s eyes were soft. “Susan wasn’t troubled. It’s the first time since Mitch died that she’s been truly happy.

It was wonderful.”

A tic pulled at Jake’s left eye. “How dreadful for Susan is he isn’t Mitch’s son.”

“He is.” Peg spoke with finality. “There are too many papers, too many links to Mitch. He said he was Mitch’s son. How would he know Mitch was a hero unless someone told him?”

Gina added a bowl of nuts to her tray. “Susan intends to talk to Wade tomorrow.”

Jake clasped her hands together and twisted them around and around. “She’s going to call Wade tomorrow?

Oh dear, what do you think is going to happen?”

Peg walked to a swinging door. “If Keith is proved to be Mitch’s son, a great many things will change.”

As the door sighed shut behind her, Jake stared at Gina. “What does she mean?”

Gina added a teapot to a tray, gave Jake a measuring glance. “She means the gravy train’s running off the rails.”

“That’s not nice.” Jake’s tone was sharp. “We haven’t taken advantage of Susan. She depends on us.”

Gina gazed at her aunt with a mixture of affection and pity. “You’ll probably come out all right. Susan likes you and somebody has to run the house and take care of the little guy. But for Tucker and me? We’re not related to her. For that matter, neither are you, dear auntie. Face it, Jake, all of our connections to Susan are through Tom. You were married to Tom’s brother. Our mom was your sister. Harrison was a cousin of Tom’s. Sure, Susan’s been great to her husband’s family, but that was when she didn’t have any family of her own.” Gina turned toward the swinging door.

Jake hurried after her, caught at her elbow. “We’ve been her family. A good family. Susan wanted to take care of us. She always said the house will be mine. This is my home.”

Gina’s smile was crooked. “Think about it, Jake. Susan’s always made everything clear, how the property was to be divided, the estate divided equally but you were to have the house and Mitch the ranch. Maybe she’ll leave each of us something and Tucker will likely still run Burnt Creek. The only difference is that it won’t be his ranch. You have to remember that none of us are blood kin to Susan. If this little boy is Mitch’s son, who do you think will inherit?”

A too-tight pink satin
housecoat pulled across Jake’s ample bosom. The bedroom was overwarm, but she placed another log on the fire burning in the fireplace. The mesh metal fire screen rattled as she yanked it shut. She stood uncertainly by the mantel, then, with sudden decisiveness, moved to a chintz-covered chair next to a small table. She perched on the cushion and picked up a cell phone.

Quickly she punched numbers. She began without preamble. “Susan’s going to talk to Wade tomorrow.” She twined a bristly strand of too-often-bleached hair around a finger. “That’s easy for you to say.” Heavily penciled brows drew down in a tight frown. “I suppose you’ll get to run the ranch, no matter what happens.

And you’re paid a pretty handsome salary.” She tapped a nervous tattoo on the table. “No.” The words came slowly. “I don’t suppose she’ll throw us out and I know she’s generous. But Tucker, we thought everything was going to be ours.” Her eyes widened. “Of course I’m going to be sweet to the little boy. If he turns out to be Mitch’s son, I’ll be the first to be thrilled for Susan. But it all seems peculiar to me, his arriving right before Christmas with nothing but a shabby suitcase and some papers.” She massaged one temple. “I know.”

Her voice was dull. “They’ll be able to prove the truth. I suppose he must be Mitch’s son. Everyone knows about DNA. But we’ve all stood by Susan, when there was no family for her. Tucker, maybe you could talk to Susan. She’s always liked you a lot.” She sat up straighter. “I’m not asking you to beg. But it never hurts to be nice.” Her face looked hurt. “I’ve never asked any favors of you and Gina and I made a home for you when your folks died and now if you can help me…Well, if that’s how you feel about it.”

Jake clicked off the cell, sagged against the tufted chair back. She looked around the room, cluttered with mementos ranging from a painted-face coconut shell to a replica of the Matterhorn. “It’s my house. She promised.” There was pathos and despair in her cry. Jake’s eyes brimmed with tears.

Gina stood by an
open window, blowing out a plume of cigarette smoke. She didn’t turn when the door opened behind her.

“Susan hates cigarette smoke.” Peg sounded irritated.

Gina took another deep drag. “A: She won’t come in here. B: I have the window open. C: I am blowing the smoke outside. Give it a rest.”

Peg moved to a dresser, opened the drawer. “I don’t mind sharing my room when you’re here between jobs, but I don’t like smoke either.” She pulled out a pair of yellow flannel pajamas with a prancing reindeer pattern.