The last thing he wanted was to be left alone with his father-in-law, but it was nine o’clock and the kids were in bed, Claire was in the bathroom taking a shower, and Claire’s mother went into the kitchen. Julian pretended to be concentrating on the procedural crime show that was on TV, but Roger leaned forward, blocking his view. “You pathetic fruit fly,” he said disgustedly. “I always knew you weren’t a man, but now you’re afraid of your own house? Because you think it’s haunted? What are you, three?”
Julian said nothing. He didn’t want to get into it right now. They were going to be living at Claire’s parents’ for a little while, and it would not be a good idea to antagonize her father on his first day here.
Still, the old man kept pushing. “Is this how you take care of your family? Huh? I’ll put up with this sort of talk from my daughter and my grandkids. But I want you to know that I have no respect for you at all—”
“You think you’re brave enough to stay in that house alone?” Julian confronted him. “One night in there, you old buzzard, and you’ll be weeping like the scared little girl you really are.”
“Get out!” Roger bellowed. “I will not be treated this way in my own house!”
Julian stood. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll leave.”
“Not them, you!”
“We’ll leave,” Julian repeated. “And we’re going to move back to California, where you most definitely will not be welcome in our home.”
Claire’s mother had come in from the kitchen and heard the last of this. “Julian! Roger! I won’t have that kind of talk in my house. You two apologize and make up right this minute!” She glared at her husband. “And you be a gracious host, or so help me God I’ll …” She left the thought unfinished.
The two men looked away from each other, focused their attention on the television and sat silently. But moments after Marian returned to the kitchen, Roger’s grumbling started again, snide asides to himself that Julian was obviously meant to hear. Julian tuned him out, ignoring him completely, and finally, unable to put up with it anymore, Roger stood, taking out his keys. “Come on,” he said disdainfully. “Let’s see your house. Prove to me that it’s haunted.”
Claire had just returned, wearing pajamas and a robe, and she stepped between them. “No one’s going there. Especially at night!” She turned to her father. “You can check it out tomorrow, Dad. It’s safer in the daytime.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Roger!” Claire’s mom called out. She stood in the kitchen doorway, frowning at him. “The Lord’s name.”
“Hell’s bells, Marian. I’m supposed to put up with this … childishness and be polite?”
“Yes!”
He threw up his hands. “Fine.” But as soon as the two women left the room, Claire following her mother into the kitchen, the old man turned on Julian. “This is idiocy. You two are going to lose a fortune; then you’ll come crawling to me, and …” He must have seen from the look in Julian’s eyes that continuing along this line of reasoning would cause big trouble, because he let the sentence trail off.
“Go,” Julian said. “Check the house out. Try to prove me wrong.”
“I will.”
Julian looked straight into his father-in-law’s eyes. “It’s your funeral,” he said flatly.
Thirty
As always, Roger was the first one awake, and the house was silent as he got out of bed to do his business. By the time he came out of the bathroom, Marian was in the kitchen, starting the coffee, though Claire, Julian and the kids were still asleep.
“You’re not really planning to go over to their house, are you?” Marian asked worriedly as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“Of course. Why not?”
“I just think—”
“Their house isn’t haunted, Marian. Jeez Louise.”
She didn’t respond, but the stiffness of her back told him that she disagreed, and she remained silent as she started making the waffle batter.
Claire entered the kitchen a few moments later, wide-awake and wearing a bathrobe, and Marian said, “I don’t want him going over to your house.”
“It’s not a good idea, Dad,” Claire agreed. She sat down next to him at the table.
“There’s no such thing as a haunted house.”
“Whether you believe it or not, we saw what we saw. And we’re selling the place no matter what you say.”
“That’s just stupid. You’re going to take a bath because—”
“Because we have to get rid of that house.”
At the counter, Marian turned around. “Don’t do it, Roger.”
“I’m going,” he said stubbornly.
“Then take Julian with you,” Claire said. “He can show you where everything happened, explain it to you.”
Roger grunted. He knew what her plan was. If he went with Julian, that fairy probably wouldn’t even let him into the house. They’d walk around the yard, look into windows and leave.
“That’s a good idea,” Marian seconded.
He nodded, pretending to agree. But after they’d all finished eating and Claire had gone off to work, the first thing he did was sneak into the bedroom and call Rob. If he was going to go with a son-in-law, it might as well be the one he liked. The line was busy, though, and he hung up, sat down on the edge of his bed and watched the Today show for a while. He liked that Ann Curry.
He got distracted, lost track of time, and by the time Marian came in looking for him, nearly a half hour had passed. “Why are you hiding in here?” she demanded.
“I’m busy,” he told her.
Huffing with disapproval, she made the bed around him, then took her clothes out of the closet and went into the bathroom to change. He picked up the phone, tried to call again, but Rob wasn’t home, and he got Diane instead. He told his daughter to have her husband call him back, because he wanted Rob to go with him to Claire’s house, then changed his mind and said he’d go over there alone.
“Dad—” she began.
“Good-bye,” he said, and hung up on her before she could give him a lecture.
He turned off the TV, then picked up his keys and wallet from the dresser.
“Roger?” Marian called from the bathroom.
Hurrying out before she could quiz him about where he was going, he passed through the living room, where Julian was playing some kind of card game with his kids. Roger smiled and waved at Megan and James, but he and Julian ignored each other as he walked out the door.
Driving side streets instead of main roads, he was there in five minutes. He parked the car in the driveway and got out to check the lay of the land. All of the houses except theirs were for sale, and all of the yards, including theirs, were dead. Weird, he had to admit, but except for the lawn problem, nothing about Claire’s house looked unusual at all. He walked up to the front door and took out his key, thinking about Julian. How could that pansy be afraid of his own house? Roger was embarrassed that his daughter had married such a pantywaist. No wonder their boy was turning out the way he was.
Unlocking the door, he stepped inside. It looked like a tornado had hit the place. Lamps were broken, tables and chairs overturned. Broken glass littered the floor. That gave him pause. Julian had described this, but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things. He recalled that nightmare he’d had about their basement, and though he hated to admit it, he felt less secure than he should have because of the dream.