Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
NED
Igawk at the space where Maisie was just standing. Where…?
“Oh dear,” Hattie says. “You both look rather startled. Did nobody tell you about us?”
Tell us about them? As in… “You’re ghosts?” The second the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back. They’re ridiculous. I’m an idiot for even thinking them.
“Of course, dear.”
I sit down on the ground with a thud.
“Babe?” Carlos kneels beside me. “You okay?”
“They’re ghosts,” I whisper to him.
“Yeah, not thinking about that right now. You good?”
“Ghosts.” I look up at Hattie. “You’re not screwing with us?”
She sighs, disappears from sight, then reappears. “Does that convince you?”
“Either you’re a ghost, or I’m hallucinating.”
“I see them too,” Carlos reminds me. “I doubt we’re both hallucinating something so specific.”
I study him wonderingly. “How are you so calm?”
He shrugs and smiles at me. “You still love me. That’s all that matters.”
All the stress and fear and impossible pain surges up and… dissipates. I lean forward and kiss him, desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. It’s been so long since we’ve kissed and it didn’t seem like a chore.
“I’ve never seen two men kissing. It’s… compelling, isn’t it?”
We freeze, and Carlos reluctantly pulls back so we can both turn to look at the newcomer.
Or rather, newcomers. A circle of fascinated faces stare down at us.
“Hi?” I say, and they break into beaming smiles.
“Hello! Maisie says you’re homosexuals. Could I ask you some questions?”
“No,” Carlos says, standing and offering me a hand up. “Who are you?”
The man—ghost?—frowns sulkily. “I’m Carter. Are you sure? It wouldn’t be many questions.”
“Are any of them about sex?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Then no.” I look around at the other faces.
There’s a teenager, which makes me sad, but since I’ve never seen anyone with that many facial piercings in real life, he seems to have embraced his ghosthood with gusto.
He’s standing between Carter, who’s dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, and another man who’s wearing a fussy-looking three-piece suit, hair slicked back in classic gangster style.
“Is this all of you who live here?”
Hattie nods. “Except for Joe. But he doesn’t like people much, especially since the house got closed down.” Sadness flitters across her face. “Meet Carter, Johnny, and Freddie.”
“Frederick Walton the third,” the suit man intones, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“It’s great to meet you all. I can’t believe this is really happening. How is this possible?”
It’s like I asked them to reveal state secrets. Instantly, their expressions shut down. “What do you mean?” Freddie asks, glaring at me. “How is what possible?”
Carlos and I exchange glances. “Nothing. Uh… how about a tour?”
The next few hours are more fun than I would have thought, given we’re exploring an abandoned house with a group of ghosts.
As long as I pretend they’re living people, everything is fine, but if I spend any time thinking about them being ghosts, I get a little lightheaded.
Still, even thirty years out of date and mostly falling apart, the house is spectacular.
The ghosts tell us more of the history, that Joe, the one we haven’t met yet, was the original owner and built the property.
The idea that he loved—loves—it so much that he didn’t leave when he died, instead choosing to stay and watch over it, hits me in all the feels, and I can tell it does the same to Carlos.
The other ghosts all either lived or were guests here at some stage—Carter was the farm manager for Joe’s grandson; Maisie a friend who came to visit; Johnny a stable hand; Hattie and Freddie guests at the hotel.
They all felt such a connection to this place that they chose to spend their afterlife here.
I can see why. From the moment we turned into the driveway, I’ve had a good feeling here, and even though the house is a mess, that feeling’s only grown stronger.
“Would you want to see this place operating as a hotel again?” I ask impulsively as we stand in what the ghosts say used to be the library. “Or would you prefer to keep it to yourselves?”
“Hotel,” Hattie says immediately, and the others agree enthusiastically. “It would be so lovely to have people here again. And not just all those rowdy teenagers.”
“But not just a hotel,” Carter adds. “I know most of the land has been sold off, but I bet what’s left could still be productive. At least enough to provide produce for the hotel guests.”
Carlos stiffens, which I know means he’s had an idea, but I say nothing, just let the ghosts lead us outside.
We visit the falling-down stables. “This is where I lived and died,” Johnny says proudly. “There was a fire one night, and I never woke up.”
I have no idea how to respond to that. “I hope you felt no pain.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Slept right through it.” He squints at me. “What’s it like having a beard?”
Startled, I put my hand up to my jaw. “Uh… I like it. I’ve had it for over a decade. Why? Do you think I should shave?”
“No,” Carlos snaps, and I hide a smile. He’s always loved my beard.
“I like it,” Johnny announces. “Maybe I’ll have a beard too. I couldn’t grow one when I was alive.”
We move on, farther down the slope from the main house.
The grounds have gone back to nature, but the ghosts explain where the gardens were, reminiscing about afternoon tea on the terrace and scavenger hunts among the topiaries.
Carter is less interested in the formal gardens, instead pointing to where the fields were and which he preferred for farming different crops.
Then we reach the remains of a cottage. The roof has tumbled in, but the exterior walls are all still standing.
“This was where I lived,” Carter says. “It was a sound house and outlived many farm managers. It’s sad the state it’s come to.”
“Solid, though,” Carlos says, eyeing the building. He wanders closer, and I know his inner construction worker is estimating what it would take to make it livable again.
Things may not have been great between us lately, but I know him well enough to know we’re both thinking along similar lines. I turn to Hattie.
“Do you think Joe would come and talk to us?”
The ghosts exchange glances. “Probably not,” she replies.
Carlos rejoins us. “Could you ask him? We’d like his opinion.”
“His opinion on what matter?” Freddie’s pompous tone makes me smile.
“On us buying the estate and reopening the hotel.”