“Yes. We have a tradition on the first night of a renovation. Kind of a reacquainting. A mixer without the nuns insisting we dance,” Carl said.
“Nuns… Why on earth did Mama insist we go to Catholic school? She was Baptist.”
“Better education, and it was within walking distance,” Carl reminded her.
Kiki walked back carrying a stack of pizzas. “Big Bear Lake – that’s where Cid’s from - has the best pizza. It’s the only fast food he allows the Martins to eat.”
“Is he their cook?” Sally asked.
“Basically,” Kiki said.
“Then why did you hire me?”
“Cid’s more valuable as a carpenter/ghost hunter than a cook,” Kiki said. “I can only stretch the lad so many ways or he’ll break.”
“I heard the two of you almost traded blows up in Michigan,” Carl said.
“From whom?” Kiki asked.
“Wayne.”
“He’s got a big mouth and an overactive imagination. Clark and I just had a difference in opinion.”
“That you needed a medium to fix,” Wayne said, grabbing the pile of boxes. “You should have seen the old witch send the two of them to sit on the naughty step until they got over their snit.”
“Walrus, you can be replaced with a Roto-Rooter man,” Kiki said stomping off.
“She still loves me, don’t you worry, Sally. Kiki is a…”
“Pain in the ass,” Jesse said walking up, extending his hand. “Jesse Holden, my job’s trusses, beams, foundations. Basically, the bones of the house.”
“Sally. I’m the chef,” she said, releasing her hand. “How long have you been with Cid?”
“Seems like hours,” Jesse said, thinking that it had been hours since they left Big Bear Lake. “We stopped and looked at a nice two-bedroom house on the lake. I’m thinking of settling down.”
“Well, it’s about time,” Carl said.
Cid arrived with a bowl of greens. “I know no one eats salad but Kiki and me… but I just couldn’t stop myself.”
“I like salad. My favorite has feta or blue cheese and Michigan cherries in it,” Sally said.
“Me too!” Cid said. “I serve mine with a vinaigrette, blue cheese or raspberry…”
“But the damn thing has cherries in it?” Carl questioned.
Cid and Sally just looked at him like they didn’t understand the problem.
“You’re not supposed to mix the fruits…” Carl tried.
Sally shook her head. “Did you not learn anything from Mama?”
“Guess not,” Gut admitted.
Faye watched the conversation with interest. So far, she noted several misunderstandings. She could have pointed them out, but she wasn’t getting paid for this. Her job was protecting the workers from the horrors she sensed inside that monstrous house.
Chapter Three
The crew nursed their hangovers with coffee and a filling breakfast in the large common room adjacent to the kitchen in the carriage house. Sally had sides sitting in warming pans and was making omelets to order. Kiki waited until the contractors had dined before unveiling her whiteboard.
“Walnut Grove House has been in the Atwater family since its conception. The Atwaters were forward-thinking landowners and responsible for the Atwater brewing company. This house was built for the patriarch as a gift from his children. All of whom he had helped establish in non-competing businesses throughout the Midwest. Marriages shored up the fortunes, and they all came to Walnut Grove House at one time or another to pay homage to August Atwater. You’ll see AA carved into many of the rooms’ adornments.
“For the past forty years, this house has been used sporadically. The congressman, Arnold Atwater, has spent most of his time in Washington or places more suited to his advancing arthritis. Because of this, wiring was never kept up to date, plumbing is sound but can’t keep up with modern dishwashers and the three large planned bathroom renovations. I don’t know how Walnut Grove House has escaped the National Register of Historical Places, but it’s to our advantage it has. It means we can renovate and bring things up to code without dealing with the delays of committees.”
“I understand most of the work has been done,” Cid said.
“Yes, there have been twelve supervising contractors…”
“Twelve!” Walrus blurted out.
“Yes, twelve contractors who have worked on this home in the last three years.”
“That’s a lot of groups,” Jesse frowned. “It must be a hodgepodge of work inside.”
“You would think so, but as you’ll see, when I give you your assignments, each group advanced the project as much as they could before being scared off the job.”
“Because…” Pete prodded.
“The place is haunted. Not by delicate white ladies but by what has been reported to be rough and toughs who were most likely workers on the estate or craftsmen brought in from Europe along with the beautiful paneling, fireplaces and marble floors.”
“Did they kill them all when they finished?” Jesse asked. “If so, it’s understandable that the other twelve crews left before they were finished.”
“It’s none of our business,” Kiki warned. “We are to complete the job and leave this place without disturbing the dead.”
“How can the present owner live here with all the spirits?” Cid asked.
“You do,” Kiki accused. “We have Faye with us. Ghosts happen, people. It has been made very clear to me that we were hired because we’ve been able to renovate alongside the dead. This is why we’re all getting paid well above what the job is worth.”
“Are we getting laborers to help with the renovation?” Gary asked.
“No. It’s just us. You remember how to get your hands dirty, don’t you, Holy Shit?”
“Yes, Boss.”
“I want you to work in teams. No one works alone. Faye will fill in or escort anyone through the building who doesn’t have a partner. Depending on the job, your partner may change. For example, if Holy Shit is doing plaster relief repair and Cid is working on the sliding pocket doors
