Merry, Merry Ghost

Peg flipped open her cell phone, punched a number. She stood stiff and straight, her expressive face apprehensive. She listened, then flipped the lid shut.

Keith ran by, almost careened into an older girl with pigtails.

Peg called out. “Slow down, Keith. Do you want to walk out on the pier?”

Keith shook his head. He was at the ladder and swarming up.

Peg started to drop the phone into her purse, then, with a determined frown, she flipped the lid, punched the number, waited a moment. “Dave, I had to call and tell you what’s happening. We’re meeting at the lawyer’s office at two. I’ve been thinking everything over. Susan wanted Keith to inherit. Everyone knows that’s true. I know what I have to do. I’m going to elect not to inherit in favor of Keith. I think I can do that. You remember that Susan’s husband, Tom”—she was talking fast, perhaps a little unclearly—“talked a lot about wills and estates and everything. That’s the kind of lawyer he was. He had a case once where the person who was going to inherit stood aside and gave the money to someone else. I don’t care what the others do. That’s what I have to do.” She stopped and breathed deeply, as if she’d been running. She almost spoke, hesitated, finally said quickly, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Look at me, Peg. Look at me!”

Her eyes still held uncertainty, but she looked up and smiled widely at Keith. “Way to go, Keith. Five more slides and it’s time for lunch.”

I arrived at Main Street as Peg and Keith walked into Lulu’s. It was too bad I couldn’t appear and introduce myself to Peg as Keith’s Jerrie. Peg would have been glad to welcome an emissary here on Keith’s behalf. Wiggins was such a stickler about his don’t-appear-unless-you-have-to rule.

I really wanted a Lulu’s hamburger with pickles, onions, mustard, and a slice of cheddar on a bun that had been swiped across the griddle. Saturday night, I’d implored Susan to will the appearance of her purse, complete with a driver’s license. I knew without doubt that envisioning a particular outfit as I appeared brought it into being. Could I wish myself present in my jade green pantsuit and white cashmere coat and white leather boots with a matching white leather shoulder bag containing a billfold with nice crisp bills to cover the cost of a magnificent Lulu’s hamburger?

I plunged into the midst of the noon crowd, people laughing and chattering and intent upon their destinations. I swirled into being from the tip of my red head to the toe of my white boots and felt the delicious weight of a white shoulder bag. I opened the bag, found a billfold, saw a ten-dollar bill. I gave a chuckle of sheer delight. A tired- looking woman met my gaze. Her downturned mouth lifted. “Merry Christmas.” I called back, “Merry Christmas,” and darted inside the narrow cafe. I took a deep breath of the delicious smell of hamburgers hissing and onions browning on the griddle and hot grease bubbling with French fries.

I entered Lulu’s right behind Peg and Keith. The counter to the left ran the length of the narrow cafe. Four booths, all full, were on the right. There were—providentially?—three unoccupied seats at the counter. We hung our coats on hooks opposite the cash register. I slid onto the seat next to Keith. An efficient waitress with a ready smile and relaxed competence took our orders and swiftly brought iced tea to Peg, cherry limeade to Keith, and coffee to me.

Keith wriggled happily on the red leatherette stool. He looked up at me and put his hand on my sleeve. “I went to the top of the big slide all by myself.”

Peg turned with an apologetic look.

I smiled in reassurance and spoke to Keith in a tone of respect. “There are tall slides. And tall slides. Was your slide as high as a fireman’s ladder?”

“Higher.” His dark eyes gleamed.

“High as a tall building?”

He tilted his head as he thought. “Higher.”

A muffled peal rang from Peg’s purse. She reached down and brought out her cell, glanced at it. She took a deep breath. Her voice was tight as she spoke. “Dave.” There was a mixture of eagerness and apprehension in her tone. “I hope—” She broke off, listened.

I held my hands far apart. “Tall as a mountain?”

Keith nodded vigorously. “Tall as a mountain.”

“That makes you”—I touched his shoulder—“a mountain man.”

“Mountain man.” Keith giggled in delight and repeated the words again and again.

The waitress placed our orders in front of us.

Peg held the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she cut Keith’s hamburger in half, squeezed a mound of ketchup near his French fries. “I don’t suppose I’d have to say anything today. But Dave—”

Keith picked up a half, began to eat, absorbed in his lunch.

The waitress attended to other diners, often pausing for a cheerful though quick chat. “How’s that hip doing, Rollie?” “Really like that new hairdo, Sybil.” “You got a good used Camry on the lot, Milton?”

“—I know what Susan wanted. Don’t you understand? I have no right to that money. None of us do.”

I splashed ketchup on the French fries, added salt and pepper. My Lulu burger was as delectable as I remembered, and the French fries hot and fresh. I was careful not to let mustard drip on my jade slacks.

“Of course I care about us. But we can manage without Susan’s money.” Peg crushed a paper napkin in one hand. “I’m not throwing away our future. Not unless you care more about money than you do about me.” Her eyes closed. When they opened, they shone with tears.

I helped Keith add more ketchup, wished there was some balm I could offer Peg.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She shook her head. “You see, I loved Susan. I have to do what she wanted.”