Stephanie looked at Mr. Platz. “Did you hear it, too?”
“Yeah. I almost made a mess in my pajamas. I tell you, I’m never going back in that room.”
“Chickenheart wouldn’t get out of bed,” Eileen Platz said, throwing a vicious look at her husband, “so I got up and opened the shade. And there it was! Right in front of the window, looking right in at us as bold as could be!”
“Actually, it wasn’t looking at us, Eileen. Its eyes were closed.”
“That’s true,” she agreed, “but it could see through its eyelids. I could tell.”
Stephanie already knew the answer to the next question, but she asked anyway. “What did this ghost look like?”
“It was an old man!”
“Was he wearing a gray suit?”
“No,” Mrs. Platz said. “He had a raincoat on. One of those poncho things with a hood. It was raining, you know.”
“Like wow,” Melody said, “you really are cosmic. You must have drawn a brand-new ghost into the house.”
Melody was weird, but she wasn’t stupid. And Stephanie knew a patronizing tone when she heard it. Mrs. Platz, on the other hand, had obviously been settling her nerves with a large quantity of sherry and was willing to believe anything.
“So what happened to Mr. Ghost?” Stephanie asked. “Did he say anything else? Did he kick in your window?”
“No. He just was out there with his nose pressed against the glass, then he vanished. I accidentally screamed, and he went whooosh, straight up in the air.”
Stephanie gave Mr. Platz what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can understand your reluctance to go back in the master bedroom. We’ll get you settled into a room on the other side of the house, and I’m sure you won’t be bothered by any more ghosts.” She directed Melody to put fresh linens on the bed in room five and asked Lucy to bring Mr. and Mrs. Platz some hot cocoa and cookies from the kitchen. She motioned to Ivan to step out into the hall. “Have you checked the widow’s walk and the cupola?” she asked him.
“Yes, but I’m going to check it again. We’re obviously missing something,” he said grimly. “This guy can’t just disappear into thin air.” He slid his feet into a pair of docksiders he’d retrieved from Stephanie’s room. “Oh yeah, and while I’m busy checking out the house, why don’t you try moving the bed away from the wall.”
Stephanie shuffled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot heating on the stove. It had stopped raining, and the world looked fresh-scrubbed and shiny bright. It was going to be a glorious blue-sky day. She took a seat at the small kitchen table and helped herself to one of the bran muffins cooling on a wire rack.
Lucy pushed aside a small mound of fresh-chopped green pepper on the cutting board and turned to look at Stephanie. “Am I wrong, or did I see Ivan Rasmussen sauntering half-dressed from your room last night?”
Stephanie bit into the hot muffin and chewed. “We’ve become… friends.”
Lucy brought her cousin a tub of butter and a knife and took a chair across from her. “Friends? Stephanie Elizabeth Lowe, I can tell from that goofy look on your face that you guys are a lot more than friends. I thought you were saving yourself for marriage? What about your virginity?”
“Gone,” Stephanie said smugly.
Lucy groaned. “Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. I warned you about him. He’s a confirmed bachelor.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I think he’s just not ready for marriage.” She buttered her muffin. “I’m not ready for marriage either.”
“Why not?”
Stephanie laughed. “I don’t know. Lots of reasons. I was seventeen for ten years. I have some growing up to do.”
“Looks to me as if you’re catching up fast.”
Melody swung through the kitchen door and stood at the table, studying the muffins.
“You can eat one,” Lucy said. “They’re certified pig-free.”
Melody took a muffin and sniffed it. “Hmmm.” She nibbled a small piece. “So,” she said to Stephanie, “are you sleeping with Rasmussen, or what?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Melody, why don’t you try being blunt?”
They stopped talking when Ivan pushed the kitchen door open. They looked at him for a second, then all three women blushed and turned their undivided attention to the muffins.
Ivan stood in the middle of the room with his hands in his jeans pockets. “Am I interrupting something?”
Melody pushed a strawlike strand of orange hair away from her face. “Lucy and I were just wondering if you and Stephanie are sleeping together now.”
Ivan went to the stove and filled a mug with hot coffee. If anyone else had asked that question, he would have explained about tact and privacy, but Melody was hopeless, so he sipped his coffee, looked at Stephanie, and grinned. “The ball’s in your court. You want to serve?”
“Not me,” Stephanie said. “I wouldn’t touch it.”
Later that afternoon Ivan came up from the harbor and stopped short at the sidewalk in front of Haben. A large woman wrapped in a red-and-blue shawl was sitting on a folding chair on the widow’s walk. She waved at him and smiled, and Ivan forced himself to smile back.
Stephanie met him at the door. “Did you see Mrs. Kowalsky?” Yes, by the look on his face, she could tell he had. “It turns out Mrs. Platz made national news, and we’re swamped with room reservations. Ghost groupies. I moved Lucy in with Melody on the third floor.”
She discovered that her palms were damp, and she silently cursed herself. She’d had sweaty palms too many times in her life. This time her life wasn’t on the line-only her dignity. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
“And I’d like to move you in with me. If that’s okay with you. I’d adjust your rent,” she added, faltering under his scrutiny.
He looked around and hated what he saw. Wall-to-wall people hoping to find a ghost, waiting for their turn on the widow’s walk. Poor Tess.
Stephanie sighed. “I don’t like it either,” she admitted. “But I need the money.”
“You need money this bad?”
“Ivan, I’ve invested every cent I own in this house. This is my sole source of income. Next September when you move your furniture out, I’ll need to be able to buy furniture of my own.”
“Why didn’t you think of that before you bought the house?”
“I did. I had money set aside for a down payment on furniture, and I had to sink it into repairs on this relic.”
Ivan didn’t give a damn about the furniture or her mismanaging, but he was infuriated that she’d assume he’d be long gone by September.
“Move me anywhere you want,” he said, keeping his voice tightly controlled.
He strode into the kitchen and took a cold beer from the refrigerator. He didn’t want to say something in anger that he’d regret later. She was looking out for herself, and he couldn’t blame her for that, but didn’t she know how he felt about her? How could she possibly think he’d be gone in September?
Lucy stopped stirring a pot of chowder, fished in the junk drawer for a bottle opener, and handed it to Ivan. “That’s imported lager. You need an opener. Although at second glance, you look mad enough to open that with your teeth.”
He tipped the bottle back and took a long swallow. “Your cousin is driving me nuts.”
Lucy made a sympathetic murmur, but she felt the laughter bubbling inside her. She’d always suspected when he finally fell in love it was going to be a real headfirst crash. Ivan didn’t do things halfway. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I sold Haben. She bought it, and she’s turned it into a loony bin.”
Lucy sighed. “Yeah. This hasn’t worked out exactly as I’d expected. I think this ghost stuff has gotten out of hand.”
“I think my feelings for Stephanie have gotten out of hand.” He finished off his beer and looked in the chowder pot. “Smells good.” A smile creased his face. “The first day out Stephanie made the worst chowder.”