The Ghost and the Bride Read online

  Danielle looked at the photograph. It had been taken in front of the Hayman jewelry store in Frederickport. The jewelry store was no longer there. In its place now was a shoe store.

  Danielle guessed the picture had been taken over two years ago, when Rowland was still working for Samuel. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the jewelry store window were two men. The image was sharp and clear. One man was Samuel.

  Still holding the photograph in her hand, Danielle looked up and across the table to Samuel. “The man standing next to you, that’s Rowland?”

  “Yes.”

  Twenty-One

  The snoring hadn’t woken Pamela on Tuesday morning. She had been awake for hours, unable to sleep. Leaning against the pillows smashed between her and the headboard, she glanced over to the man sleeping next to her. Kent had been right—they were strangers.

  Her heart mourned for the man she had married. She missed his good-natured humor. Since the accident, Kent had forgotten how to laugh. She missed his kindness and companionship, replaced by a man who questioned her motives and made her feel as if she were holding him captive. She even missed his dimples, now hidden by that horrendous beard he insisted on wearing.

  Pamela looked off blankly to the far side of the room. Morning sunlight streamed in through the edges of the curtains. According to the clock sitting on the nightstand, it was almost seven. She regretted coming to the wedding. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin Lily’s special moment—especially since Pamela now understood such happiness was fleeting and at any moment could be snatched away.

  Walt stood looking out the library window into the side yard when he noticed Joanne coming down the back walk, making her way to the kitchen door. As far as he knew, everyone was still asleep. But soon, they would be waking up to the smell of coffee and bacon frying.

  It was when he moved into the hallway that he saw it—the mystery ghost, standing outside the door of the downstairs bedroom. In the next moment, the ghost disappeared through the door. While Walt generally respected Danielle’s decree to stay out of the guests’ bedrooms, he needed to find out what this palooka was up to.

  When Walt entered the room a moment later, he found the ghost standing at the foot of the bed, watching the couple. Pamela was sitting quietly on her side of the bed, leaning against the headboard, while her husband had obviously just woken up, considering the stretching, yawning, and rubbing of his eyes with the back side of his hand that he was doing.

  “What time is it?” Kent grumbled, giving a final stretch while sitting up in bed. He reached behind himself and repositioned his pillows and then leaned back.

  “Who are you?” Walt demanded of the ghost. The ghost ignored Walt, his attention focused on Pamela and Kent.

  Pamela glanced at the clock. It sat on the nightstand on her side of the bed. “Almost seven thirty.”

  “I hope someone put coffee on,” he grumbled.

  “I have a favor to ask you,” Pamela said in a subdued voice.

  Kent narrowed his eyes and turned to her. “What?”

  “I thought about what you said yesterday. I couldn’t sleep last night. But I realize you’re right.”

  “I am?” Kent sounded surprised.

  She nodded sadly. “I know you don’t remember. But we had a good life. At least, I always thought we did. I loved you so much…”

  “Loved, as in past tense?” Kent asked.

  “Like you said, we’re strangers now. And frankly, I’m too weary to go on like this. It’s not working. I’ll agree to the divorce. I won’t fight you.”

  “So what’s the favor? Sounds like you’re just agreeing to what I wanted.”

  “You said we could wait until after Lily’s wedding before we do anything. I’d like you to promise that you’ll do that. I don’t want my family—especially Lily—to know anything about what we’ve planned. I regret coming to the wedding, because I don’t want our drama to ruin Lily’s day. If you do that—pretend everything is fine between us, when I go home, I’ll start divorce proceedings, and I’ll tell our attorney that the money from the settlement is to go to you. I don’t want any of it.”

  Kent smiled. “All of it?”

  Pamela nodded. “Yes.”

  While Pamela and Kent calmly discussed their pending divorce, Walt continued to grill the mystery ghost on his identity. The ghost acted as if he couldn’t see or hear Walt. But then, right after Pamela’s yes, he turned to Walt and said, “I am no one,” and vanished.

  Walt found Danielle in her bedroom. She sat in front of her vanity mirror, finishing her fishtail braid. She didn’t notice him immediately—despite the fact he was standing right behind her, looking into the same mirror she was. But then, of course, ghosts have no reflections. It wasn’t until he said, “Good morning,” did she realize he was there.

  “Morning, Walt. Do you know if Joanne is here yet?” She glanced briefly over her shoulder to him.

  “She’s in the kitchen,” Walt said as he took a seat on the foot of her bed, watching her.

  “I really thought that ghost was Rowland,” Danielle said with a sigh as she turned around on the bench seat, her braid finished, and faced Walt.

  “You’re certain he wasn’t the man in the photograph?” Walt asked.

  “Like I told you last night, the guy in the picture—the man standing next to Samuel Hayman, looked nothing like our mystery ghost. What really bugs me, there is something familiar about him.”

  “Familiar about Rowland?”

  Danielle shook her head. “No. Our mystery ghost. It’s like I’ve seen him before, but I just can’t place him. It’s really bugging me.”

  “I saw him, by the way. He was just in the downstairs bedroom.” Walt then proceeded to tell Danielle about his brief morning encounter with the ghost and about the conversation he had overheard between Pamela and Kent.

  “That’s so sad. Lily used to talk about her cousin and her husband, how in love they were. And what a miracle it was that he had survived the accident. I guess his car was totally destroyed. They had to use some sort of saw to get him out.”

  “You should probably honor Pamela’s wishes and not mention any of this to Lily,” Walt suggested.

  “I don’t intend to say anything. I’ll tell Lily everything after she comes home from the honeymoon—maybe.”

  Walt arched his brow. “Maybe? Why would you tell her? There’s nothing she can do about it, and I agree with Pamela, there is no reason to burden her with this.”

  “Oh, I’m not suggesting maybe I’ll tell Lily what’s going on now—I mean maybe I’ll never tell her. Think about it, even if I wait to tell her when she gets home, she’ll forever remember what was going on with Pamela this week—in pain while Lily blissfully went on with her life. You know Lily, she always wants to fix things.”

  “Danielle, it’s not like you can keep this from Lily forever. I imagine she’ll realize something happened when she discovers her favorite cousin got a divorce right after her wedding.”

  Danielle let out a sigh. “I know. I guess you’re right.”

  Walt smiled. “I like it when you say that.”

  Danielle frowned. “Say what?”

  “That I’m right.”

  Danielle stood up. “I hate to admit it, but you tend to be more right than wrong about things.”

  “Now you’re on the trolley!” Walt grinned.

  “Huh?” Danielle asked with a frown.

  “Just an expression.” Walt chuckled.

  “I don’t know anything about trollies, but I would like to know more about this ghost who keeps showing up. While he seems fairly harmless, I’m curious as to why he’s shadowing Kent and Pamela.”

  Lily’s and Ian’s families gathered at Marlow House for breakfast on Tuesday morning. Joanne had arranged a buffet-style meal set up in the dining room, including muffins, breakfast pastries from Old Salts Bakery, baked scrambled egg casserole, bacon, sausage, and fresh-cut fruit.

  Twelve people fit more
comfortably around the dining room table than thirteen, which was the excuse Lily used when sitting on Ian’s lap during breakfast that morning. Ian didn’t seem to mind the extra load, and if the love, affection, and good humor openly expressed between the soon-to-be married couple disturbed Pamela, who found her own marriage crumbling, the heartbroken cousin kept it to herself.

  Joanne had moments earlier cleared away most of the dirty plates from the table when Laura asked Lily, “Why didn’t you tell us you’re getting married in a haunted house?” All eyes turned to Laura, even Joanne’s. The housekeeper paused briefly at the doorway, a stack of dirty dishes in her hands.

  “Is this about us getting married on the beach again?” Lily asked wearily.

  Laura frowned. “No. It’s about the Marlow House haunted house stories. I just don’t know why you never said anything before.”

  “What are you talking about, Laura?” Lily’s father asked.

  “I’m afraid it’s my fault,” Kelly said sheepishly. “Yesterday I told Laura the Marlow House stories.”

  Upon hearing Kelly’s confession, Joanne turned from the room and continued on her way to the kitchen.

  “What stories?” Mr. Miller asked.

  “Some say Walt Marlow haunts this house!” Laura said excitedly.

  “Ghosts?” Cory said with a snort. “Yeah, right.”

  Tammy Miller picked up her coffee cup. Before taking a sip, she said, “Don’t be so closed-minded, Cory. After all, I did see my mother after she died.”

  Cory rolled his eyes. “Mom, you were dreaming at the time. It wasn’t Grandma’s ghost.”

  Tammy, who had just taken a sip of her coffee, frowned across the table at her son. “How do you know? You weren’t there.”

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about you seeing Grandma?” Laura asked.

  “Everyone here is family,” Tammy said with a smile, setting her cup on the table. “Or at least we soon will be.”

  “After looking at Walt Marlow’s portrait in the library, I can’t say I’d mind him haunting me!” Ian’s mother said with a laugh.

  “Oh, I don’t know; I think I’d prefer to be haunted by Marlow’s wife. Good-looking woman,” Ian’s father countered.

  Ian glanced over to the buffet along the far wall. When filling his breakfast plate earlier, he had noticed a hint of cigar smoke in the area and assumed Walt was in the room. With a nervous cough he said, “Enough with the haunted house talk.” He glared at his sister and said, “I don’t know what possessed you to drag out those stories at this time.”

  Kelly shrugged. “What’s the big deal? I think they’re interesting. And I just figured Laura would be interested in the stories about Marlow House. After all, they’re staying here.”

  “Old houses always come with those kinds of stories, especially when there have been deaths in the house,” Danielle noted. She glanced over to Walt, who lounged by the buffet, smoking a cigar, and smiled.

  “I always like a good ghost story, but I wouldn’t be thrilled about living in a haunted house,” Laura said with a shiver as she glanced around the table as if expecting everyone to break into a Beetlejuice rendition of “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song).”

  Kent stood up abruptly. “I don’t believe in ghosts. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Instead of lingering in the dining room, listening to the haunted house conversation, Walt followed Kent back to his bedroom. While those sitting at the dining room table assumed Kent had simply excused himself to go to the bathroom, Walt had a gut feeling the man was up to something.

  He followed Kent into the downstairs bedroom, where the man closed the door and then immediately picked up his cellphone from the dresser and made a call. Walt silently listened to Kent’s side of the conversation.

  “I hope you’re still willing to meet me here. But I can’t do it until Saturday evening, after the wedding…Trust me, if you wait until Saturday, you’ll find it worth the wait…Will a thousand dollars change your mind? Cash?”

  Twenty-Two

  After breakfast, the group scattered. Ian’s parents went with Lily’s to the pier to try a little fishing, while Lily and Ian took their siblings for a drive to Astoria. Lily’s siblings wanted to see The Goonies house. They took Sadie with them.

  Pamela and Kent opted to stay at Marlow House—Kent to take a nap, and Pamela claimed she was coming down with a migraine. For someone like Lily, who was occasionally plagued with migraines, she sympathized with her cousin and didn’t attempt to talk her into going to Astoria with them. As it was, the landmark house was now a private residence, and the best they could do was glimpse the property from the street.

  It was almost noon when Joanne finished up work, said goodbye to Danielle, and left for home. After saying goodbye to Joanne, Danielle wandered to the library in search of Walt. Who she found instead was Pamela, who sat curled up in a chair, her face buried in her folded arms, as she silently sobbed.

  Danielle walked to Pamela and gently placed a hand on the crying woman’s shoulder. Stifling a sob, Pamela lifted her tearstained face to Danielle. Absently using a sleeve to wipe away tears, Pamela pleaded, “Please don’t say anything to Lily.”

  Danielle knew exactly what Pamela meant. “Can I get you anything?”

  Pamela shook her head.

  “Would you like to talk? I promise I won’t say anything to Lily. Sometimes it helps to talk.”

  Pamela looked to the open doorway leading to the hall. “Can we do it somewhere else? I don’t want Kent walking in, hearing us talking.”

  Danielle nodded.

  Over thirty minutes later, Pamela and Danielle sat on the small sofa in Danielle’s bedroom. Before going upstairs, Danielle had prepared a pot of hot green tea and crustless chicken salad sandwiches, the plates garnished with sweet pickles and potato chips.

  Pamela sat cross-legged on the sofa, a plate on her lap, the small sandwich on it ignored as she fiddled with one pickle, using it to push chips around the plate. “I just don’t want to mess up Lily’s wedding.” Pamela had just told Danielle about the pending divorce, a fact Danielle was already aware of.

  “I won’t say anything to Lily, I promise,” Danielle vowed.

  Pamela looked over to Danielle and smiled. “You’ve been a good friend to Lily. She’s told me all that you’ve done for her. How if it wasn’t for you, she could have been locked away for the rest of her life in some sanatorium in Canada while all of us believed she was dead.”

  “Lily’s also been there for me, too. That’s what good friends are for.”

  Pamela smiled ruefully. “After Kent and I got married, I sort of drifted from my girlfriends. We lost touch. I’m kind of regretting that now.”

  “That’s pretty common after someone gets married. I know it happened when I married Lucas. I got so wrapped up in my marriage, our business, maintaining friendships wasn’t a priority. When Lucas died, I only had a couple of close girlfriends. Lily was one.”

  “You’re lucky. I can’t even think of one.” Pamela set her plate on the coffee table and slumped back in the sofa.

  “Maybe you need to try to reconnect with some old friends when you get home,” Danielle suggested. “Or make new friends.”

  Pamela groaned and leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe I should become a nun.”

  “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”

  “I’m not,” Pamela said with a sigh. “But that life seems rather peaceful at the moment.”

  “Rather celibate too,” Danielle said with a snort.

  Pamela shrugged. “I think I’m getting used to celibacy. It’s been over a year.”

  “It’s one thing to have a celibate phase in your life, as opposed to committing to a lifetime of celibacy.”

  Pamela lifted her head from the back cushion of the sofa and turned to Danielle. Cocking her head slightly, she smiled. “So is Lily wrong?”

  Danielle looked at Pamela with a frown. “Wrong?”

  “She s
aid you and Chris are just friends. But he’s obviously crazy about you.”

  “Oh, Chris and me?” Danielle blushed. “No. We’re just good friends. For a while there, I thought maybe. But nothing really came of it. Like you, it’s been a while…”

  “But don’t you miss it? I know I do.” Pamela rested her head on the sofa again and stared up at the ceiling.

  “I thought you just said you wanted to be a nun?” Danielle asked. She continued to sit next to Pamela on the sofa.

  “I lied.” Pamela rolled her head to the right to see Danielle. “Don’t you miss it?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Why not…you know…you and Chris? Sometimes it’s more important to begin as friends first. And is it really so bad to move to the next level a little prematurely? You could end up falling madly in love with your friend—your very attractive friend.”

  “I’ve never been into casual sex,” Danielle began. “Although, I can certainly understand it now more than when I was younger. And maybe, if things were different, maybe Chris and I would…well…”

  “Become friends with benefits?” Pamela asked. “What’s stopping you?”

  Danielle frowned. “I don’t think I can be intimate like that with someone when…when I have feelings for someone else.”

  “Oh, I get it.” Pamela sighed. “You still have feelings for your husband.”

  Danielle didn’t contradict Pamela. She figured she had already said too much.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of too—that my feelings I still have for Kent will get in the way of any future relationship. I know he isn’t the same man anymore, but I still love the man I married, with all my heart. And I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  “Over time, I believe you’ll be able to.”

  “Says the woman still in love with her dead husband,” Pamela quipped.