Merry, Merry Ghost

“I don’t know what happened.” She stared at the door.

“It is thoughtful of you to ask.” Susan’s voice was light and even, but her eyes held a shadow. “We won’t be needing anything. Thank you.”

Jake turned hurriedly and bolted into the hall, slamming the door behind her.

Susan looked at Wade, started to speak, gave a slight head shake, then said briskly, “I’ll keep the papers about Keith.”

The lawyer nodded. “I’ll get right to work.”

Susan sank back in her chair, her thin face troubled.

As Peg set the table for lunch in the kitchen, Jake paced near the oven. Her face flushed, she talked rapidly. “…and I think it’s mean as can be. Susan promised the house to me.”

Peg lifted a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “Mother, what difference does it make? The house will be yours as long as you live.”

Jake slapped napkins next to each plate. “I know how it will go. There will be all kinds of provisions. Everything will be his, really. What if when he”—she jerked her head toward Keith, absorbed in stacking different-sized saucepans one within another—“gets married, his wife doesn’t like me, and they want to live here?” Jake’s voice rose in a wail.

Peg poured tea into bright red tumblers. “Mother”—her tone was patient but exasperated—“don’t borrow trouble. Let him be a little boy and grow up. That’s all years away.”

Gina sliced ham. “Ease up, Jake. Peg’s right. A life interest sounds great. I’d be glad to have a life interest in something.”

“Two hundred thousand dollars for each of us is very generous.” Peg’s tone was sharp.

“It isn’t two million.” Gina’s voice was shaky.

Jake planted her hands on her hips. “Susan promised the house to me and neither of you care. But I’m not the only one who’s going to pay a price. Gina, you can whistle Dixie about those credit cards. Susan’s not going to give you a nickel. As for you, Peg, Susan’s not about to rubber-stamp Dave’s clinic. She wants a business plan and she’ll consider a plain-vanilla building for the clinic, not that fancy stacked stone Dave wants. Both of you can chew that over with your lunch. I’m too upset to eat a thing.” Jake whirled and slammed out of the kitchen.

The knife clattered from Gina’s hand. As she bent slowly down to pick it up, Peg came close and touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Gina. You were counting on that money.”

Gina rose and flung the knife into the sink. “I’m desperate. They have a judgment against me and they’re going to take my car away from me.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“If I can help—”

Gina’s burst of laughter was harsh and ragged. “You’re poor, too, honey. Nothing can help me except cash. If I could take out a loan…But banks won’t loan money to people like me, not when they won’t even loan money to somebody like Dave, a brand-new vet who can make at least seventy thousand a year once he starts his practice. What are you going to do? Isn’t Dave coming right after lunch? Are you going to tell him?”

I finished a hasty lunch, pulled together in a flash when Peg went to answer the front door and Gina took a tray up to Susan.

A remarkably handsome man followed Peg into the living room. Dave Lewis had curly brown hair and film-star features, a broad forehead, straight nose, full lips, cleft chin.

Dave held up a portfolio, his face pink from the cold and excitement. He was magazine-ad attractive in a thick Shetland wool pullover sweater and dark gray slacks and black loafers. His pale brown eyes gleamed with delight. “Got a new concept. It’s even better than the first one.” He stopped, gazed at Keith. “Who’s the kid?”

“Susan’s grandson, Keith.” Quickly, Peg explained.

Keith tugged at a log. He called out, “Let’s make a fire, Peg.”

She moved toward the fireplace.

“That can wait.” Dave pointed at the wood. “Yeah, Keith, why don’t you count the logs.” He turned to Susan. “Look at these.” He knelt to pull out the thick sheets and spread them on the floor. “It makes sense to build as large a clinic as we can. We’ll have boarders, of course. See, here’s the run for dogs—” He looked up, frowned. “Come on, Peg. Take a look.”

Keith tugged on Peg’s sweater. “Can we have a fire?”

“In a minute, sweetie. Run upstairs and get your bag of gold coins and I’ll sell you some wood.”

Keith grinned and pelted for the door.

Dave grinned. “Good move, Peg. Now we can look at my—”

“Dave.” Peg clasped her hands tightly together. Her round expressive face was slightly pale, her eyes anxious. “You need to check with Susan’s lawyer. I think Susan wants a business plan. And”—Peg’s eyes fell away from him—“she may think the building should be scaled back a little. Because of the economy.”

Dave let the plans roll back together. He picked up the roll, stood. “What’s up? Why the roadblock? I’ve got a great concept and it’s all pulled together.”

“Susan’s looking ahead to the future. For her grandson.”

“How about our future? I thought she was on board.” He seemed to realize he’d spoken too loudly. “Look, Peg, Susan’s fond of you. Talk to her. You can smooth everything out.” He walked over, pulled her close. “I’m counting on you. This is for us.”

Keith pounded into the living room, holding the little leather bag. “I’ll buy two logs.”