“What does Fraser say about this?” Mrs. Truman asked.
“I haven’t told him the ghost part,” Abby admitted.
“Well I can see why not considering if you did he’d rightly think you were mad,” Mrs. Truman retorted.
Abby turned her body to face the older woman. “Honest, I wish it wasn’t true. But I’m telling you, Mrs. Truman, she’s real and she means to hurt me,” Abby’s eyes moved to Jenny. “And, in less than two weeks from now, I’m supposed to go back there for the anniversary celebrations and stay there, overnight.”
“You can’t do it,” Jenny told her immediately.
“I know!” Abby agreed. “But I can’t not do it either, Cash would be –”
“You have to get rid of her,” Mrs. Truman butted in and both women’s eyes moved to her.
“Get rid of her?” Jenny asked.
Mrs. Truman waved her donut in the air. “Yes, get rid of her.”
“Who?” Abby queried.
“The ghost!” Mrs. Truman replied with severe impatience.
“How’s she going to do that?” Jenny enquired.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Truman admitted, “but we’ll sort something out.” Then she took another bite of her donut and calmly chewed.
It wasn’t lost on Abby that Mrs. Truman said “we’ll”.
Abby decided not to fight it, she wouldn’t win. It seemed post-dinner-party that Mrs. Truman had decided to become a fixture in Abby’s life.
Abby had to admit she didn’t mind in the slightest.
“I don’t think it’s that easy to get rid of a ghost,” Abby told the older woman.
“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Mrs. Truman noted, waving the remains of her donut again. “I just said we’d sort something out.” She leaned forward and took a sip of coffee before sitting back and saying, “I know a few people. I’ll make some calls.”
Abby couldn’t imagine what kind of calls she’d make to find someone to get rid of a ghost but she didn’t have time to ask, Jenny spoke.
“Are you okay, your arm, that is?”
Abby nodded. “Yes, Cash found me in the bathroom and carried me to a couch. He cleaned me up and then demanded that the paramedics look me over before he’d even let me sit up. I had a little headache this morning but mostly head and arm are both fine.”
“He’s a good boy,” Mrs. Truman muttered but Jenny was watching Abby closely and Abby knew why.
Abby took a bite of her donut and assured Jenny, mouth full, “It’s all good.”
“You’re being smart?” Jenny asked.
“Yes,” Abby kind of lied.
She wasn’t sure she was being smart but she was trying to be.
Mrs. Truman was looking between the both of them then she enquired, “Is there something I should know?”
Abby answered with another mini-fib, “No, just that Cash and I made up.”
Mrs. Truman made a “pah” noise and then stated, “Of course you did. The papers all say he’s very bright. Anyone who’s bright wouldn’t let a good thing like you slip through his fingers because of a silly quarrel.”
Abby was processing her feelings at getting a compliment from Mrs. Truman when the bell on the door clanked.
“Who’s that?” Abby asked the room at large.
“How should we know?” Mrs. Truman asked back.
Abby dropped her half-eaten donut on the tray and walked to the front door, three yapping spaniels at her heels.
She opened it and a tall, good-looking young man she’d never seen in her life was standing outside.
“Abigail Butler?” he asked.
“Yes,” Abby answered.
“I’m Simon. Mr. Fraser asked me to come and see about your plumbing,” he announced then shoved inside through Abby and the dogs and he closed the door.
“Um,” Abby started, staring at him, unable to take in what he said or his forward behaviour, “someone is already seeing to it.”
Simon had walked through the vestibule, the dogs who he was gamely ignoring dancing at his heels and he was standing in the hall.
“Yes that was mentioned,” Simon told her. “I’m here to make certain the job gets finished to Mr. Fraser’s standards and look into the rest of the system.”
Abby wasn’t certain, but it felt like her blood pressure was rising.
“That isn’t necessary,” she told Simon as she noticed both Jenny and Mrs. Truman had come to the door of the living room to watch. “I’ve got everything under control.”
Simon looked down at her. “I was also told you’d say that. Regardless, Mr. Fraser was pretty clear he wanted a report by close of business today as to how the system could be updated promptly and then he’s stated he wants me to move forward and get it done.”
Abby read between the lines. Cash wanted it done even if Abby refused. And it would get done, no matter what Abby said.
Yes, Abby realised, her blood pressure was rising.
“You’re here on a wasted errand,” she explained to Simon on another kind of lie. “They’re almost finished.”
Simon looked toward the stairs. “I’ll just have a look.”
“Really, it isn’t…” Abby started but Simon was on the move and Abby began to follow him. “Excuse me,” she called up the steps and he turned.
“You don’t have to come, I’ll find my way,” Simon told her and then he kept right on going.
Abby stared at his departing back.
Then the bell clanked again.
Abby turned slowly to the door but looked back at Mrs. Truman and Jenny.
“Well, see who it is,” Mrs. Truman prompted sharply and Abby and the three spaniels went back to the door.
She opened it and a man three inches shorter than Abby and about twenty years older stood outside carrying a tool box.
“Abigail Butler?” he asked.
What now?
“Yes,” she answered.
“I’m Nigel. Mr. Fraser asked me to pop by and fix your bell,” he told her.
Abby looked at Nigel then at the bell in her door then to Jenny and Mrs. Truman who’d come out into the hall.
When she looked back at Nigel, he was bent, had put his tool box on the stoop and was petting two of Mrs. Truman’s panting, happy dogs.
“Cute little fellas,” Nigel remarked.
“Um, there isn’t anything wrong with my bell,” Abby told him.
Nigel’s head tilted back and he looked at her then he reached out and turned the bell.
It clanked cacophonously.
Abby closed her eyes.
She opened them when she heard Nigel say, “Probably just needs a good cleaning. Won’t take but a minute. I’ll just get started.”
Then he grabbed his tool box, straightened, pushed in through Abby and the dogs, closed the door, dropped immediately to his knees and got to work.
Abby stared at him.
Then she turned and stiffly walked to Mrs. Truman and Jenny.
“Did that just happen?” she asked them.
“Yes,” Mrs. Truman said shortly and then vanished back into living room.
Jenny came forward and stopped when she was close to Abby.
“Remember, it’s just a job,” she whispered.
“We talked about this,” Abby whispered back, “Cash and I. He said he wouldn’t interfere.”
“It’s just a job,” Jenny repeated.
“But –” Abby began and Jenny’s hand grasped hers and squeezed.
“Let him do what he wants to do. It’s his thing. If he’s getting off on taking care of you, let him do it,” Jenny said and then went on. “Just don’t get used to it.”
“I don’t think –” Abby started again and Jenny squeezed her hand again.
“It’s his thing. Not yours. Just let it go and keep focused.”
“Jenny,” Abby breathed.
“Focus,” Jenny repeated firmly.
Abby understood what Jenny was trying to do but she was way too freaked out to let her do it.
“It’s my house. It’s Gram’s house. Ben loved this house. It’s theirs. This house is the only place I can still be with them. I can’t be thinking of Cash every time I hear the door bell or take a shower!” she cried but under her breath so Nigel couldn’t hear.
“Too late for that,” Jenny said logically.
“Jenny!” Abby exclaimed.
Jenny got even closer. “I know it’s tough and it’s going to get tougher. But you can do it.”
“I don’t think I can,” Abby admitted and Jenny gave her another hand squeeze.
“I know you can. And anyway, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. There’s a ghost who wants to kill you, for goodness sakes.”
This, Abby thought, was true.
“Priorities,” Jenny finished, gave Abby’s hand another squeeze, let her go and then walked back into the living room.
Abby took a deep breath then followed her friend back to the donuts.