The Ghost and the Bride Read online

  After leaving Eva’s display—which included her portrait and one of the original emeralds from the Missing Thorndike—on loan from Danielle—she lingered for a moment at the Frederick Marlow display, taking note of the photographs. Most were of the Marlow shipyard and of Walt’s grandfather—Frederick Marlow. Considering the shipyard theme of the display, it wasn’t surprising the only photograph of Marlow House was an exterior shot.

  At the far end of the museum, just beyond the newspaper table, was the hallway leading to the museum office, restrooms, and storage room. It was in the office where she found Ben Smith.

  “Danielle! What a lovely surprise,” Ben said from where he sat at the table.

  “I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to spare,” Danielle said as she took a seat across from him.

  “For you. Always.”

  “I was wondering, does the historical society have any personal photographs from the Marlow family aside from what’s included in the Frederick Marlow display?”

  “Family photographs?” he asked. “You mean like a family album?”

  “Yes. I’ve gone through Marlow House, and I can’t find any Marlow family albums. In fact, there are no photographs. I was always under the impression that after Walt died and Katherine inherited, she never went into the house again and then she died. I know your father was responsible for handling the estate, and since he didn’t get rid of the portraits, I just don’t see why he would have disposed of the photo albums. The only thing I could think of, they ended up at the museum.”

  Ben smiled. “You’re right. My father didn’t get rid of Marlow’s family photos. In fact, as near as I can recall, he didn’t get rid of anything. I remember him once saying it wasn’t his place. This was when someone approached him to buy some of Marlow’s personal items, after Dad took over the estate. What he did do was have the house cleaned and removed perishable items, primarily from the pantry and refrigerator. Aside from that, he left the house untouched.”

  “So what happened to the photographs, I wonder,” Danielle muttered.

  “The museum has them. But my father had nothing to do with that. Renton donated them back when the historical society was formed. Of course, Renton insisted on a substantial tax donation receipt. At the time I thought it was inflated. As you know, he was never my favorite person,” Ben grumbled.

  “You mean a tax donation for my aunt?”

  Ben shook his head. “No, for himself.”

  Danielle frowned. “I don’t understand. Those photographs belonged to my aunt. Not Renton.”

  Ben stood up. “I suspect in light of what’s happened since the truth of Renton was revealed, I believe you may be right. You see, according to Renton, he purchased the photographs from your aunt for a very pricy sum—hence the inflated deduction. But now I have to wonder if he really did buy them—or perhaps we accepted stolen merchandise?”

  Danielle watched as Ben walked to a file cabinet and opened a drawer. After shuffling through the files for a moment, he pulled out a piece of paper and then turned to Danielle.

  “This is a copy of the sales receipt he gave us from your aunt—for the purchase of the photographs.” Ben handed the paper to Danielle.

  Taking the receipt in hand, Danielle studied it for a moment and then began shaking her head. “This is not Aunt Brianna’s signature. I can prove it. I have all her letters.”

  Ben let out a sigh and then sat back down in his seat. “I was afraid of that. Frankly I haven’t given those photographs much thought. We’ve yet to use them in a display. And I’m not sure we ever will—aside from a temporary display.”

  Danielle glanced up from the receipt and looked at Ben. “You still have them?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about the wedding dresses?” Danielle asked.

  “Wedding dresses?” He frowned.

  “According to my aunt, there used to be a trunk with three wedding dresses,” Danielle lied.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about wedding dresses. As far as I know neither Renton or Brianna donated anything to the museum—except for the photographs—and, of course, for those items that were donated for the county fair exhibit.”

  “County fair?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes. This was years before the historical society was formed, and before Renton was your aunt’s attorney. The city was putting together a historical display for Frederickport and contacted Brianna about donating something for it.” Ben stood up again and walked back to the file cabinet. After rummaging through the files again, he pulled out another slip of paper and handed it to Danielle.

  “The city later donated the items to the historical society after it was formed. The items are all being used in displays, and as you can see, no wedding dresses,” Ben said.

  “I wonder what happened to the dresses?” Danielle murmured.

  “Does this sudden interest in old wedding dresses have anything to do with Lily’s wedding?” Ben asked with a smile.

  “Yes. But don’t mention it to her. She’d love to wear a vintage dress—and considering she’s getting married at Marlow House, a dress worn in a Marlow wedding would be ideal. But I’ve no idea what happened to them, and I don’t want to get her hopes up.”

  “I won’t say a thing,” he promised.

  Glancing over the piece of paper one final time, Danielle handed it back to Ben. “I see my aunt wrote a note on this list to the city. It looks like her handwriting.”

  “Like I said, this was before Renton’s time. And her previous attorney was of impeccable character. Of course, I may be prejudiced, considering he worked for my father’s firm, taking over after Dad passed away.”

  “So why did she switch to Renton?”

  “After Father’s former partner passed away and the firm was closed, Renton and Carmichael didn’t waste any time contacting Brianna.”

  “Well, your instincts were right about Renton. I remember when we first met, I could tell you weren’t fond of the man.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Still standing, Ben asked, “Do you want the photographs back?”

  Danielle stood. “You mean the pictures Renton donated?”

  “They belong to you. And if we need them for some future temporary display, I have a feeling you’d be generous enough to loan them.”

  “Are you sure?” Danielle asked excitedly. “I would absolutely love to have them—but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “I’m not too worried about it. All I ask, when you have time, make me a copy of one of your aunt’s letters—with her signature. I’ll keep it on file. After all, the historical society never paid for those photos, and according to our bylaws, we’ve the discretion to dispose of anything that’s donated to us. You’d be surprised how many donations we receive each year—many items we’ll never use. If we kept everything, we’d be paying a fortune for storage.”

  Six

  Lily was already at the bakery when Danielle showed up.

  “Where’s Ian?” Danielle asked when she joined Lily at the display counter. They were alone in the bakery save for two bakery employees behind the counter, currently occupied.

  “I just had him drop me off,” Lily explained, licking her fingers.

  “You had a cinnamon roll, didn’t you?” Danielle accused.

  With a shrug Lily said, “Well, I had to do something while I waited for you.”

  Danielle smiled and then waved one of the employees over, pointing to a cinnamon roll in the display case. “Did you two decide on flowers?”

  “Yes. Very vintage look. I’ll show you the pictures of what I picked when we get back home. Any hints on Walt’s photos?”

  Danielle accepted the cinnamon roll and set two dollars on the counter. To Lily she said, “Not just a hint. Jackpot! I can’t wait to show Walt.” Danielle then went on to tell Lily about her visit with Ben.

  Felicia Borge stood outside the bakery and read the sign painted across the picture window: “Old Salts Bakery.”
She had never been to Frederickport before despite the fact Silverton was less than three hours away.

  Before moving to Silverton two years earlier, she had lived in Paso Robles, California, for her entire life—all twenty-seven years. But now she was twenty-nine and an Oregon resident.

  While she hadn’t been to Frederickport until now, she had heard of Old Salts Bakery. Her next-door neighbor claimed they made the best cinnamon rolls. Of course, cinnamon rolls would never entice her to Frederickport. Frederickport was where her brother had been arrested for that trumped-up dog-fighting charge.

  Okay, maybe he was actually guilty. But they were only dogs, she thought. Certainly it wasn’t fair to send Jimmy away for such a long time over something so insignificant. Staring through the bakery window, Felicia let out a sigh. The last couple of years had sucked.

  Moving to Oregon was supposed to be a fresh start. Things were starting to look up, and then there was the car accident in Morro Bay. She was devastated. After that, everything went in the crapper.

  Needing to earn money, her brother had given her a job. For a short time, it seemed as if things were looking up. She was making decent cash. That was until Jimmy’s arrest and the dog fighting was shut down. Practically everyone who had been involved back then ended up behind bars. She supposed she should be grateful she’d managed to slide under the police’s radar and avoid arrest.

  These days she earned her money waiting tables at a Silverton diner. Normally, she wouldn’t spend her one day off visiting Frederickport, but after the phone call from Kent Harper, she felt compelled to visit, just to get the lay of the area. If he really did show up next month, she didn’t want to be walking into foreign territory. That was, if she decided to show up at all.

  Slinging the strap of her purse over one shoulder, Felicia made her way inside the bakery. The two women at the counter—a short redhead and a brunette wearing a prissy braid and dress, turned to her and smiled. She didn’t smile back.

  They showed no reaction over her response and turned back to the counter. The brunette was eating something while the redhead chatted to the person behind the counter. Something about wedding cakes.

  Silently stepping up to the counter, she looked into the glass display. One bakery employee—a man—chatted with the two women while a second—a woman—approached her.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  “I heard you have good cinnamon rolls,” Felicia said.

  The brunette, who stood a few feet away, turned to her and said, “Oh, they have the best!”

  Felicia’s first urge was to say, Who asked you? Mind your own business. Instead, she gave the brunette a weak smile and turned her attention back to the woman behind the counter.

  “We are known for our cinnamon rolls,” the bakery employee said with a pleasant smile. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Yeah,” Felicia said with a shrug. “I suppose I’ll get a cinnamon roll. You have coffee?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Then a coffee too. Black.”

  The woman nodded and then used a pair of tongs to pick up a cinnamon roll.

  “I was wondering, are there many bed and breakfasts in Frederickport?” Felicia asked as she watched the woman drop the roll into a paper sack.

  “The only one I know of is Marlow House. You’re standing next to the proprietor,” the woman said cheerfully.

  The brunette turned to Felicia and smiled. Obviously, she had overheard what the woman had said.

  “Marlow House,” Felicia stammered. She stared at the brunette.

  “Hello. I’m Danielle Boatman, the owner of Marlow House. Are you looking for a bed and breakfast?”

  There was something eerily familiar about the name Marlow House. Staring into Danielle’s face, Felicia blinked several times, and then it came to her. The owner of Marlow House had been responsible for her brother’s arrest and incarceration. Could it be possible it was the same bed and breakfast Kent Harper would be staying at?

  Forcing a smile, Felicia said, “Nice to meet you. Are you the only bed and breakfast in town?”

  “Yes, we are. Of course, Frederickport has some nice motels and vacation rental houses, if Marlow House isn’t to your liking.” Danielle smiled.

  “Umm…I was wondering…I have some friends who want to stay in a bed and breakfast in this area. They want to come next month, around September 11,” Felicia lied. “I was just looking around for them.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. We’re all booked up that week.” Danielle turned to the redhead and grinned and then looked back to Felicia. “Lily here is getting married in September. Her family has reserved all the rooms for that week.”

  Felicia leaned forward slightly, looking around Danielle, to get a better glimpse at the friend Lily. Does that mean Kent Harper is related to the bride? she wondered.

  Lily smiled in her direction and said, “I’m afraid my family is taking over Marlow House that week.”

  “Congratulations,” Felicia said in a dull voice, her gaze fixed on Lily.

  Is fate playing some twisted game with me? Felicia wondered. Everything that has gone crappy in my life is in some way connected to Marlow House? Maybe it’s time I settled the score.

  “She was a little creepy,” Lily told Danielle when the attractive blonde left the bakery, carrying the sack with a cinnamon roll and a lidded to-go cup filled with coffee.

  “That wasn’t the sincerest congratulations I’ve ever heard,” Danielle said dryly as she turned to the window and watched the blonde, who was now outside, walk away from the bakery.

  “If her friends make a reservation, I hope they’re a little less creepy,” Lily added.

  When Danielle and Lily returned home, they found their guests scattered throughout Marlow House. One couple was in the library, looking through the impressive collection of books, while two couples were in the living room, playing cards at the game table. Joanne was upstairs, putting fresh linens in the rooms.

  After greeting all her guests, Danielle lugged the large box Ben had given her to the parlor and placed it on the desk. She was about to head upstairs to look for Walt when he appeared.

  “Oh good! I was just going to find you!” Danielle whispered as she shut the parlor door for privacy.

  “You look like you’re in a good mood. Did Lily decide on a wedding cake?”

  “Yes, she did. And they ordered the flowers too.” Danielle moved to the desk and placed her hand on the box she had just set there. “But this smile isn’t about the wedding. Although, I am happy for Lily. The cake looks like it’s going to be fabulous. And while I haven’t seen the pictures of the flowers she picked, she seemed pretty excited about them.”

  “If not smiles for the wedding, what for? You’re just happy to see me?” Walt grinned.

  “Oh, Walt, I’m always happy to see you. But at the moment, my particular excitement has more to do about your happiness.”

  Walt frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You might say I hit a jackpot at the museum.” Danielle lifted the lid off the box.

  Stepping closer to the desk, Walt glanced inside the now open container. His eyes widened, and he looked back to Danielle. “My photographs!”

  “I don’t know if they’re all here, but—”

  Before Danielle could finish her sentence, Walt looked back into the box. It appeared to be filled with several old photograph albums and a number of framed and loose photographs. He reached in and pulled out the top album.

  “You found them,” Walt said in awe. Mesmerized, he opened the book and wandered over to the sofa and sat down, his attention fully focused on the photographs. Reverently he began turning its pages, lingering over each one.

  “The museum had them,” Danielle told him. Before explaining how they happened to be at the museum—and how she managed to retrieve them—Danielle walked to the parlor door and locked it. She didn’t want to risk a guest wandering into the room while Walt looked through the albums.


  Thirty minutes later, Walt and Danielle were still in the parlor. She had told him about her day, both her meeting with Ben and her and Lily’s trip to the bakery. Walt listened while leisurely thumbing through the albums.

  After he had looked through the last one, he closed it and looked up at Danielle, who sat across from him, watching. “Danielle, you have no idea how much this means to me. I didn’t even realize how much this would mean to me until I saw the pictures. So many memories.”

  Danielle cocked her head slightly and studied Walt. Finally, she asked, “Those memories, do they…do they…do they make you feel as if you want to move on?”

  Walt frowned at Danielle. “Not sure what you mean.”

  Danielle shrugged and then shifted uncomfortably in the seat. “I don’t know. Seeing all your loved ones. People from your life. Family. Your parents and grandparents, old friends. Does it make you want to move on so you can see them again?”

  Walt met Danielle’s gaze. “Is that how you’d like me to feel?”

  Danielle frowned. “I’m not sure what my feelings have to do with this.”

  “I just know you’ve a history of helping other spirits pass over to the other side. Is this what this is really all about?”

  “Can I be brutally honest?” Danielle asked.

  “Always. You know that.”

  Danielle let out a deep sigh. “I would be happy if you never moved on. Well, at least not until I do. But that is incredibly selfish of me.”

  A slight smile turned Walt’s lips. “Then my answer is no. I’m not in a hurry to move on. As I’ve said before, they will be there when I decide to go. I can wait. Of course, that is incredibly selfish of me.”

  “How so?” Danielle asked.

  “Because you’re a young woman who has her entire life ahead of her, and I often wonder if my staying here is preventing you from living that life to the fullest.”

  Danielle smiled softly at Walt. “Oh, trust me, I feel as if I am living my life to the fullest—with you here. Marlow House would never be home without you.”