“After you have familiar-ized yourself with them, we’ll have another visit and I’ll give you your specific assignment.” He bent his head forward, looked at me sternly. “You will be on probation as you undertake your first task.” I almost whipped back a quick “Not to worry,” but decided upon looking into his serious brown eyes that he might not appreciate snappy retorts. Instead I simply repeated approvingly, “On probation.” The tension eased from his face. “That’s the right attitude. You will find that attitude is everything, Bailey Ruth.” I couldn’t have agreed more. It was my job to be sure he had the right attitude about me. I nodded soberly.
“If you successfully complete this assignment, we will welcome you as a full-fledged emissary.” He pushed up the rim of his eyeshade, looking perplexed. “I suppose . . .” The words trailed off. He gave a shake of his head, his mustache quivering. “I scarcely like to bring this up. I find the topic distasteful.” He looked pained.
I attempted to look pained as well, though I had no idea what dreadful behavior we were contemplating.
“Ghosts.” He pursed his lips in disapproval. “I deplore that characterization of a Heavenly resident dispatched to be of service.” I offered quickly, “We aren’t ghosts.” I tried to keep the hint of a query from my voice.
He thumped a great fist on his desk and folders bounced. “Precisely. Never. Stories of apparitions and rattling chains foment the most inaccurate imaginings on earth. It is of foremost importance
G h o s t at Wo r k
that you do not, in the pursuit of your duties, create situations that will further these mistaken beliefs.”
“Oh.” I was fervent. “I would never do that.”
“Subtlety is the key.” Wiggins appeared troubled.
I wondered if he was remembering unfortunate episodes with previous emissaries or if he feared I might be lacking in that quality.
“Subtlety, of course.” I was as world-weary and wise as Barbara Stanwyck. Turner Classic Movies had given me a whole new world to emulate. Actually, here in Heaven she’s quite approachable.
The flush faded from his face. He nodded benignly. “I will take that as a solemn pledge.”
I raised my right hand. If the man wanted a pledge, I was ready.
“Very well. We won’t talk of ghosts.” His nose wrinkled in distaste. He glanced down at his papers, thumbed through a stack. “Oh yes. I should mention that we sometimes have missions that do not succeed. Not”—he spoke quickly to preclude any misunderstanding—“that we would ever characterize any volunteer as a failure. Oh, Heavens no. But”—and he clapped his hands together—“there is a foolproof means of achieving success.” My expectant look was a model of the pupil eager to hear the master’s declaration.
“Adhere to the Precepts.” His nod was emphatic.
I was fascinated by the quiver of his walrus mustache.
“For example”—his look was stern—“there is an absolute stric-ture prohibiting casual contact with family members, such as your daughter, Dillon. We do not want the living preoccupied with the dead. It simply doesn’t do.”
“Of course not.” I was righteously indignant. Besides, I felt quite close to Dil without making a special trip to earth. One of the lovely aspects of Heaven is that whenever anyone on earth thinks of you, you are there with them for that instant. Why, Dil had thought of me just this morning. She was driving too fast and clipped a hedge as she
Ca ro ly n H a rt
came around a curve. As her husband cringed, hearing the scrape on the fender, she’d grinned. “If it had been Mama, she would have leveled that bush. Hold on, Mike, we’re late.” I didn’t share this with Wiggins.
“However, there will be a special familial aspect to your first visit.
As for the other Precepts, I’ll give you this copy”—he unrolled the parchment and slid toward me a cream- colored sheet embossed with gold letters—“which you can study while we prepare the materials for your visit. The most important Precept—” I leaned forward, ready and alert. It looked as though I might make the grade. As for the Precepts, I was good at following rules.
Well, usually . . .
Except when I forgot.
“—is this: You will be
My, Wiggins certainly felt strongly about this rather simple concept. Where was the problem? I was quite sure I wouldn’t have any difficulty.
Simplicity itself.
Wiggins tone was solemn. “If, after studying and mastering the Precepts, you still feel that this is the right path for you, you can come back—”
Just then, a staccato
Wiggins listened, quickly tapped a response.
A rapid
He pulled a pad of paper near, wrote furiously, his face creased in concern. The minute the message ended, he was on his feet, gesturing to me. “Bailey Ruth, there is no time to delay. You must be dispatched immediately.”
G h o s t at Wo r k
He moved hurriedly to the ticket window, grabbed a ticket, found a stamp, slapped it to the cardboard slip. “Here.” He thrust the ticket at me, then yanked at a lever on the wall. “I’m dropping the signal arm on the pole outside. The Rescue Express will stop long enough for you to board. Quickly, now. You’ll have to make a run for it.” A rumble announced the train’s arrival. I glanced at my ticket, which had a corner nicked off, but I could read
