It had been four months, twelve days, and seven hours since I’d seen a ghost. That might not sound like much to you, but to me, it was the equivalent of being wined and dined by my favorite celebrity, buying a winning lottery ticket on the way home, then enjoying a spectacular night with my fiancé on a bed made of clouds. And chocolate.
I should have known it wouldn’t last.
A spate of unseasonably warm weather for the beginning of May in Maine had generated a thick mist over the entire town of Mooselick River. The damp morning air turned my red curls into a frizzy mess as I stood on the porch of one of the rental properties I managed. The creaky old farmhouse needed some work before the next tenant could move in, but like most places in our quaint little town, it was charming in its own way. I glanced at my watch impatiently, wondering if I’d have time to run out for a coffee before I had to pay the plumber. He was an hour into unclogging the main septic drain, and from the sounds of things, it wasn’t going well.
When I heard tires crunching toward me on the short gravel road, I couldn’t think who would have come out here. This was the most remote of my boss, Leo Hansen’s, rental properties, and with the thick mist lending a creepy atmosphere, the one I least wanted to spend a spooky morning at.
I thought the plumber had called for reinforcements, but the vehicle that appeared out of the fog didn’t belong to the plumber’s helper.
“Everly Dupree!” a familiar voice called out the window of a dark green pickup truck with the Evergreen Christmas Tree Farms logo on the door.
“What are you doing way out here?”
Patrea Evergreen, my best friend and attorney, climbed out of the driver’s seat and went around to the other side to retrieve a takeout tray with two large coffees. She handed one to me as she came up the steps.
“Bless you.” The first sip burned my tongue, but I didn’t care.
She’d let her hair grow long since her wedding and now had it pulled back to frame a lean and determined face. “You’re welcome. I’m tracking you down. What else? You’ll never guess what I’ve done now.”
“You’re pregnant?”
Her eyes lit with humor. “Not yet. That’s only just gone past the discussion phase. Give me a minute.”
“Then I guess I’m out. Just tell me,” I raised an eyebrow. “I hate guessing games but can’t resist a good mystery. Spill the details.”
“Okay, okay,” she grinned. “You know how much I love fixing up old houses, right?”
“Of course,” I replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. “I think everyone in town knows that about you by now, so it’s not exactly the shock to my system you were expecting.”
“Then you won’t be surprised to hear I’ve bought another one.”
“Which?” I ran over the list of vacant homes. There were far fewer of them than when I moved back to town, and in some small part, I liked to think that was my doing. Mine and Martha Tipton’s, anyway. We’d worked hard to begin bringing tourism back to our tiny town and, as a result, had slowed the exodus of people moving away to find better jobs.
“Wentworth mansion.”
My chin hit my chest. Wentworth mansion had been empty for years. Decades, even. The place was shrouded in mystery. “How? I didn’t think it was up for sale. Did you sacrifice a goat or something?”
“Ew. No.” Patrea mounted the porch steps on long legs. Even in a simple pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, she gave off an air of elegance that I envied. After an hour’s worth of toilet plunging before I gave up and called in a professional, I was a sweaty mess. No comparison. “But I was as surprised as you are when I got the letter accepting a cash offer that, between us, was just my opening bid. I expected to wear the owners down and pay at least thirty percent more. I just picked up the keys.” She dangled them in front of my face.
The sound of booted feet on hardwood floors interrupted the conversation. Once we’d moved out of the way so the plumber could get to his vehicle and haul back some weird-looking machine, Patrea started up where she’d left off.
“Here’s the thing—it’s supposedly haunted.” She paused for dramatic effect, watching my reaction closely. “I thought you might want to check it out with me, given your…unique skillset.”
My curiosity piqued, I couldn’t help but wonder about the lingering spirits that might dwell within the mansion’s walls. Was someone trapped there, unable to move on? Or were they simply content to remain in a place that held memories of happier times?
“I’m on a ghost-free streak,” I mused, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Do I really want to yank the lid off that can of worms again? Besides, half the houses in town are said to be haunted—including mine. It isn’t, so this one might not be haunted, either.”
“You know you want to. Be honest, how tight is your worm can lid on, anyway?” Patrea wasn’t above pushing for what she wanted. “I haven’t even been inside yet. I bought it based on the limited view when I peeked in the windows. We could explore it for the first time together.”
“I’ve always wanted to get a look inside that place.” I was going with her. She knew it, and so did I. “The owners moved away before I was born. I’m surprised you haven’t heard the stories before. The mansion figures highly in town legends.”
“Right?” Patrea exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Think of the history, the stories… and if there really are ghosts, who better to help them than you?”
“True,” I agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. Ghosts could be unpredictable, but my empathetic nature made it difficult to turn away from those in need – living or otherwise.
“You win,” I sighed with mock exasperation, unable to resist her infectious enthusiasm. “I’ll come take a look at this allegedly haunted mansion of yours. But first, I need to deal with the very real, very mundane issue of a stopped-up toilet drain.”
“Deal,” she said, grinning widely. “I’ll wait with you. And then, adventure awaits!”
“Adventure indeed,” I murmured, wondering what secrets and challenges the old mansion held in store for us.
Banging and grinding noises combined with the clatter of an electric motor drew us both to the upstairs bathroom, where the plumber had removed the toilet and stuck some sort of cable down the drain.
“You’ve got some scale in the pipes leading out to the septic,” he said and showed me the footage from the camera at the end of the line. “Most people use plastic nowadays, but this is cast iron. I’m using the rooter to grind the scale away. Everything goes well, it should be good for another few years.”
“Grind or hammer?” Patrea raised her voice to be heard.
“A little of both, I guess.” The plumber responded to her smile, then turned back to me as I watched the little blade on the end of his line destroy the alien landscape of jagged stalagmites inside the metal pipe.
The noise was hideous, and the banging shook the entire house, but it only took fifteen minutes to break through the blockage. He spent ten more flushing out the debris with water, then another five gathering his tools. That step would have taken longer, but Patrea volunteered to help. She paced the porch while I paid the bill.
With the plumbing crisis finally resolved, I put her out of her misery. Exploring an old mansion with Patrea would be far more fun than spending the rest of the day cleaning up after sloppy tenants, and I had two weeks to get that done before the next family moved in. I made a show of locking up and checking my phone for messages in case any new crisis had arisen. None had.
“All right,” I said to Patrea as I pocketed my phone, “it looks like I’m free for the rest of the day. Let’s go look at your newest project.”
“Fantastic!” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. “I promise you, Everly, it’ll be a day to remember. Ride with me. I’ll bring you back to pick up your car after.”
As I climbed into the passenger seat of Patrea’s trusty pickup truck, anticipation shivered through me. After months of wanting to be rid of it entirely, I’d embraced and welcomed the full extent of my psychic ability only to have it, or maybe just the ghosts of Mooselick River, abandon me. Perhaps today would turn that tide.
The advancing day had burned off most of the fog as we wound along the narrow country roads that seemed to stretch forever. The sun cast dappled shadows through the canopy of newly burgeoning leaves above us, creating a serene atmosphere that belied the possibly supernatural undertones of our journey.
“Isn’t it beautiful out here?” Patrea sighed, her hands gripping the wheel firmly as she navigated the twists and turns of the road. “I love how peaceful it is, away from all the hustle and bustle of town.”
“Like you don’t live in the country yourself,” I teased. Still, I couldn’t help but agree. There was something undeniably calming about being surrounded by nature, if only for a short while. I revised that opinion a minute later when the seat belt bit my shoulder as Patrea braked hard to keep from hitting the doe that darted across the road in front of us. Through the open windows, we heard a squirrel chattering in disapproving tones from its perch in the branches overhead.
“I know, right? Who ever thought I’d become a farmer’s wife? I’m still getting used to all of this nature stuff, and you don’t see deer every day,” she grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just like you don’t see haunted mansions every day.”
“True,” I conceded, my thoughts returning to the task at hand. As the road began to climb, I felt an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach – a tingling that seemed to grow stronger as we drew closer to our destination. Probably just anticipation.
“Almost there,” Patrea announced, her voice filled with excitement.
“There used to be a turnaround right there. Just the spot for parking after a date,” I replied, pointing to the side of the road. “I haven’t been out this way in years. I’m curious to see if it looks like I remember.”
Since the Wade family lived nearby, Jacy and I had often ridden our bikes out to the old mansion when we were kids. On lazy summer days, with warm breezes stirring our hair, we’d sit on the front steps, blow dandelion clocks or weave daisy chains, and invent outlandish stories about the people we assumed once lived there.
“You’ve been here before. What do you know about the house?”
“Not much more than I’ve already said. The house has been empty for as long as I can remember, and there’s no real mystery to that, as far as I know. Mrs. Wentworth got sick and couldn’t handle the cold weather anymore, so they moved away and left the house to their kids. The kids had other plans, so it’s been empty ever since.”
“Mildly disappointing as far as stories go. How’s the wedding planning going?” She changed the subject.
Her question elicited a heavy sigh. “Not good. I was going to call you today and talk about it. I think this wedding is cursed. First, the invitations had to be redone because they spelled my name wrong, and it looked like Drew wanted to marry Every Dupree instead of Everly Dupree. My father took exception, and my mother used language she never uses.”
“Tough break. What printer?”
“That’s the thing. It was the one I usually use, so Mom gave me a hard time about not taking her advice. But that’s not all.” Letting out another sigh, I brushed my hair back off my face. “The woman we hired to do the alterations had a minor fire at her shop. They saved the building, and no one was hurt, but all the dresses suffered smoke and water damage. Ours were all ruined.”
Patrea winced. “That’s some spectacularly bad luck.”
“You haven’t heard the worst of it.”
“Good grief. There’s more? The woman didn’t have insurance?”
“No. She did. She’s getting reimbursed, and so are we. The worst is that I called the shop and asked if we could just reorder the same dresses in our sizes, but the bridesmaid line is sold out, and you know the deal with my dress.”
“One of a kind.”
Not that I’d commissioned it. Nope. Someone else ordered it to their exact specifications and then decided they didn’t like it. If the look on the dress shop owner’s face had been anything to go by, that someone had been a picky pain in the butt. She’d found fault with what I considered perfection. But none of that mattered now. The dress was gone, and not only did we need to go shopping soon, but we needed to find things that fit well enough not to need much sewing. So much for feeling fortunate we’d hit it out of the park at the second shop. I should have known luck like that wouldn’t last.
“On the plus side, Mrs. Damson offered to do the alterations for us. She was at the library when the call came in and witnessed a rare Kitty Dupree meltdown.”
“Including more swear words?”
“Apparently.”
“So that means we have to go dress shopping again. Tragic. Don’t worry. We’ll find something just as good. Maybe even better. I heard of this place in Port Harbor called Bridal Heaven. It’s supposed to be magical.”
“It’s just that I feel bad asking everyone to take another day off for something we’ve already done. And then there will be more fittings, too.” A heavy sigh gusted out of me.
When Patrea slammed on the brakes again without warning, I pitched forward. The queen of cool was not feeling the chill, but I did when she turned to glare at me.
“I just showed up and hijacked you from work, did I not?”
“Yes.” I was almost afraid to answer.
“And do you resent me for asking?”
“No. I’m excited to see the house.”
“Then what makes you think your nearest and dearest will quibble over another chance to go dress shopping for your big day? I’m speaking for all of us when I say that if you start dropping apologies all over the place, we will make you pay.” The threat came with a narrow look that got her point across quite well.
I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay. I won’t apologize. We will shop, and we will buy new dresses, and we will have fun.”
“Damn straight, we will.” Relenting, she hit the gas and left a cloud of dust in her wake.
