We entered the house, and it was surprisingly modern. It was all clean and crisp white walls, and wood floors, and an impressively high vaulted ceiling with wood paneling rising to a skylight at the dome’s highest point.
“I’ll bet that is gorgeous at night, with the stars,” Vicki said. “Or in a rainstorm.”
“That would be romantic,” I said.
The spacious kitchen area had all new and modern appliances, sparkling white and chrome, and custom cabinetry.
“The kitchen was redone about three years ago,” Susan said. “It’s been updated to be compatible for a smart home.”
“Smart home, huh?” I said.
I noticed a screen on the refrigerator door. I tapped on some of the icons. It looked like everything from televisions, to a full family calendar could be controlled from this screen.
“We haven’t joined that revolution,” Vicki said.
Vicki tapped on the media button and browsed the apps that could be accessed from the panel. Without an active network connection, we couldn’t try any of them out, but it was still quite an impressive feature.
“Oh,” Susan gushed. “You should upgrade. Smart homes are all the rage! I have an Echo in every room of my house. I use it to control everything. It’s so convenient.”
“Well,” I said, “I guess I’ve become crotchety in my old age. I still believe in keys and light switches.”
Susan waved her hand at me and burst into laughter which would have been fine, but her laughs came in short, snorty bursts, and she convulsed with each breath. Vicki and I looked at each other with concern.
“Your old age,” she laughed and snorted again. “You’re killing me. You’re just killing me.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I mumbled to Vicki.
“Well, you jokester, you,” Susan was still grinning. “Let’s show you the rest of the house.”
She took us through the living room, which was decorated in white and glass and the skylight bathed it all with an open beam of mid-afternoon serenity.
“I love that skylight,” Vicki stated emphatically.
We went down a small hallway, and Susan took us inside a bedroom.
“This is the master suite,” Susan said, and she winked and laughed again. “The magic room for you two!”
“Oh,” I said. “It... already comes with a bed.”
“Isn’t it groovy?” Susan snort-laughed again.
Groovy. I thought that was the perfect way to describe it. It was a built-in circular bed, upholstered in sixties style red and gold velvet, with tassels coming off the bottom.
“This is one of the things the owner couldn’t bear remodeling,” she said. “But I knew you kids would love it, coming from California, and all. They’re into all that whole swinger thing out there, aren’t they?”
“Uh,” I said. “I’m sure some people are, I guess, maybe. But I don’t know that these are really our colors.”
“Well,” she said. “You could always update the style. But, it is a gorgeous, timeless piece. Oh, just exquisite.”
She crossed the room and caressed the bed frame in awe. “Just look at this craftsmanship.”
Vicki went over and politely inspected the wooden joints of the bed with Susan. I looked around the room and noticed a grainy black-and-white photo of a man hung on the wall. I read the inscription at the bottom, “If you see him, do not be afraid, he means no harm.”
“What is this?” I asked Susan.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s the ghost. He’s friendly. I’ve met him before. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“A ghost?” I asked.
“You’ve met him?” Vicki asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “He’s a good ghost. He watches the property. His name is Philippe. He was the first white man to own this property when it was Indian Territory in the 1800s. He died protecting it and now he watches over the place.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I don’t know if we could be swingers with Philippe unless the ghost of Mrs. Philippe was in the mix, too. What do you think, Vic?”
Susan dissolved into her snorting laughter again. I was getting used to it by now.
“I think we’ll see the next place,” Vicki said.
“You are just a riot,” Susan shook her index finger at me, and then her face perked up. “I have the perfect place for you!”
I doubted that, but we trudged along after her. Susan gave us another address, and we loaded up in our cars.
“I do like the smart home,” Vicki said once we settled into the car.
“Definitely,” I said. “I had never even considered it before, but now it’s a non-negotiable. We have to have that.”
“You need it,” she said. “That way you might actually keep track of our social calendar.”
“Well, then what would I have you around for?” I joked.
“That I’m not worried about,” she said. “You couldn’t survive without me. But, I could do without the dome. Could you imagine what my parents would say?”
“Just tell them you moved to the Jetson’s,” I said. “Not far from the truth, really.”
“Well, what would we tell them about Philippe?” she asked.
“We’ll have to get Alexa to take care of that,” I said. “‘Hey, Alexa, get rid of the ghost.’”
“That was easy,” she smirked.
“The latest in home automation,” I said. “Exorcism.”
“What would Beyo’s ex-wife say, with her ghost locator app?” she joked.
“The pace of technology,” I said. “It’s a changing game. It’s brutal, man.”
She sat in the passenger seat and laughed uncontrollably.
“One day, you’re relevant,” I continued, “the next, you’re obsolete. Get on the bandwagon or get left behind.”
“The tricky business of ghost hunting,” she laughed so hard she could hardly get the words out.
We arrived at the next location, and Susan parked in an open field in the straight up desert. We exited the car and congregated in the barren
