The Ice Cradle (30 page)

“We don’t have much time,” I said. “There are some people coming here in a few minutes. I don’t know if they can see ghosts or not, but they
say
they can. They want to prove there are ghosts here at the Grand View. But if they do, people won’t come here to stay.”

“Why?”

“Because people are afraid of ghosts.”

“But why?”

“Because they don’t understand. Most people can’t see ghosts—”

She interrupted. “I
know.”

“Of course you know! They think ghosts might want to hurt them. They think ghosts can do all kind of things that you and I know they can’t. And if people are too afraid to come here to the inn, Lauren and Mark will have to leave. Go somewhere else.”

“Where?” she said, with alarm in her voice.

“I don’t know.”

“But who would be here? Would Frances have to go?”

“Yes
! But there’s something we can do,” I said. “Something we can
try
, at least. And if you help me, I’ll help you. I’ll get Jamey back for you, and I’ll get you both back to your mommy and daddy.”

“You can’t.”

“I can. You’re going to have to trust me a little bit, which I know will be hard to do. But it’s the only way we can do this. Okay?”

She looked me straight in the eyes for a few minutes, then got up, came over, and crawled into my lap, just as she had that first night. I wrapped my arms around her, as much as you can wrap your arms around a skinny little spirit. What she said brought a tightness to my throat.

“I like you.”

C
ALEB WAS PEDALING
into the driveway when I stepped out onto the back porch. He paused, and without getting off his bike, reached into his leather bag and pulled out an envelope. He held it up in the air. Puzzled, I walked over. He handed it to me.

“What’s this?”

“Nice of you not to bug me, but I do have to pay you.”

“I wasn’t worried. I know where you live.”

He rebuckled his bag. “See you at the play?”

“You bet.”

He waved and pedaled off.

I glanced at the envelope. My name was typed on the front with what looked like an old-fashioned typewriter; traces of the inked ribbon blurred the edges of the letters, which caused faint indentations in the rich, creamy vellum. The envelope wasn’t sealed, so I extracted my check. I was happy to see that nice, solid number, but the pleasure ended there. In stately type in the top left corner were the words
The Lenox Consortium
.

I was flooded with confusion and remorse.
These
were the people who were paying my salary—the very same parties who
were trying to sandbag the wind farm? The folks who funded Rawlings’s questionable environmental impact study?

In a sickening moment it all made sense: to bring alive the tragic story of the
Larchmont
’s dead at the very moment that the wind farm debate was heating up! What a coincidence of timing! Oh, they were sly! The cunning was positively breathtaking.

And I had played right into their hands. In fact, I’d raised them one! Not only would the new book rescue the story from oblivion, but I’d also talked Caleb into exhibiting Honor Morton’s photographs! And I’d talked him into the idea of display cases, too, assuming the money to build them could be found and the upstairs space refurbished. No wonder Rawlings had pushed me for answers about what all this would cost. What better way could there be to elicit sympathy for the poor souls whose bones would be smashed and scattered by the gargantuan windmills than to let everyone gaze at the tattered relics of their lives, thrown up by an indifferent sea?

Strike another blow to the wind farm.

Well, I wouldn’t take their money! I sank down into a chair and thought of my checkbook balance. I had to take their money! No, I didn’t—I hadn’t done much of the work yet; I could just pull out of the whole project and tell Caleb why. I wouldn’t let them use me like this!

But what about the
Larchmont
’s dead? Didn’t they deserve to have their stories told, regardless of what effect this might or might not have on a debate raging a century later? After all, I had personally made promises to them. I stood up, marched into the kitchen, and threw the check into the wastebasket. Then I pulled it out and wiped off a little dab of jelly. My head was spinning, and I had to make it stop. I folded the
check, tucked it into my pocket, and went out to the barn, looking for Baden.

He was resting in one of the chairs I’d rescued during the fire.

“How’s it going?” I asked. I thought about getting into the dilemma swirling around in my head, but I knew we didn’t have time.

“I quite like it out here,” he responded.

“Good thing.” I smiled. “Lauren’s gone to pick up Mark and the TV guys. They should be back anytime. I think Vivi’s going to help us.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“No, I really do.”

“Perhaps. Have you had any news on the woman?”

“Mavis? She’s going to be fine. You saved her life, you know.”

“For the moment.”

“Very funny.”

“How old is she?” Baden pressed.

“Ninety-one. She shouldn’t be living alone.”

“She should be living any way she likes.”

“But how do we know she likes it? Maybe she doesn’t have any family.”

He was about to answer me when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. I hurried over to the window.

“They’re here! Oh my gosh!”

“Calm down, dear.”

“I’ve got to get Vivi.”

I raced back into the house and found her on the kitchen floor, sparring with Frances.

“It’s time!” I said, trying to sound really excited. “Come on!”

Vivi hopped to her feet and accompanied me out to the
barn. When she glimpsed Baden, she became uncharacteristically shy, hiding behind me like a much younger child.

“Vivi,” I said, “You know your great-uncle.”

“Hello, Viveka,” said Baden. To his credit, he kept the judgmental tone out of his voice.

She didn’t answer.

“Say hello, Vivi,” I said. “There’s no need to be shy.”

“Hi,” I heard her whimper.

I stepped aside and she was revealed.

“Mr. Riegler has a story to tell you.”

Baden regarded me with a look that said,
I do?

“About the lake in Austria?” I suggested. “What you used to do there when you were young, in the summers?”

He blinked a few times, as though trying to recall if he had ever mentioned anything about this. He hadn’t. I was just trying to give him a hint; he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would have a clue about what to do to amuse a kid.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” I said, ducking away before either of them could protest.

Mark’s green pickup was in the driveway, and two men, presumably the “ghost detectives” themselves, were unloading bulky black boxes from the back of the car. I walked over.

“Hi, Mark!”

“Anza, hi! How are you?” I thought he was giving me a significant look, but I wasn’t sure. And if he was, I definitely didn’t know what it meant.

“Anza, this is Dayne White and Gavin Robinson. You’ve probably seen their show,
The Ghost Detectives.”

“I have! It’s terrific. Great to meet you.”

One of the men, who appeared to be dressed for swampy encounters, gave me an indifferent glance. The other, attired
in cowboy boots, ironed jeans, and a starched white shirt, extended his hand.

“Gavin. Playsed to meet yih.”

“I’m Anza,” I said, and we shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” I couldn’t bring myself to say that I loved their show, so I added, lamely, “You must be here to film the lighthouse.”

“Lighthouse?” Gavin said.

The other man stood up and scowled, as though a foul odor had just reached his nostrils. “No. Why?”

“The Southeast Lighthouse?”

Gavin shook his head. I definitely had their attention now.

“Well, I just assumed—because everyone on the island
knows
it’s haunted. Isn’t it, Mark?”

I tried to make my eyes communicate the message:
Say yes!
I had no idea if Lauren had told him about my paranormal abilities, but I was sure she’d kept her promise not to tell anyone else.

“Uh, yeah,” Mark said, unconvincingly. “Yeah, it is. Absolutely!” He had a dazed look on his face. He obviously didn’t know where this was going, but he was doing his best.

“I could take you there if you like,” I offered.

Gavin looked at Dayne, who shrugged.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Dayne said. “Depending on what we get tonight. But thanks.”

“Is it open on Sundays?” I asked Mark, stalling for time.

“It’s not open for tours until after sometime this summer,” he answered. “But we could probably get Chief McGill to unlock it.”

“Could you?” I asked. “Because it would be a shame for them to miss it, don’t you think?”

Gavin and Dayne had gone back to their unloading, so I nodded furiously at Mark, hoping to clue him in.

“It would, yeah. Oh yeah, absolutely!”

I watched with some amazement the assortment of boxes being unloaded. If I wasn’t going to get Gavin and Dayne to the lighthouse immediately, I wished they’d go indoors as soon as possible. For all I knew, the renegade spirits had a sentry keeping watch, letting them know when the television team arrived.

“Can I help you carry something?” I asked.

“No, we’re fine.”

“Let me help,” I said, grabbing two boxes before anyone could protest. “I’m going in anyway.”

A half hour later, the equipment was all cabled up and spread out in the room where Henry had watched the Three Stooges. This room had been designated the duo’s base of operations. In the adjoining living area, I was the one playing sentry. I couldn’t allow a ghost near their equipment, even if it meant revealing myself to any spirit that came snooping. I was also trying to figure out what to do, having failed completely in my effort to interest them in a visit to the lighthouse.

Outside, in the space of two hours, the weather had gone from cool and overcast to cold and misty, and from the look of the funnel clouds on the horizon, a storm was heading our way. Churning whitecaps were visible across the boulevard, and seeing them, I stepped over the line separating feeling on edge from being wildly anxious. How in the name of heaven was I going to pull this off?

At any moment, Duffield or any of the ghosts planning tonight’s invasion might arrive on the scene and set off the heat and infrared sensors. To maximize the show’s spooky appeal,
Gavin and Dayne usually waited for darkness to fall before beginning their movements about a building, but I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for tonight.

Long before that, any ghost still determined to bring down Mark and Lauren could be here. They could show up at any minute, and the machines in the next room would go off, alerting the Australians. I didn’t even want to imagine it. And to make the situation even more unmanageable, Henry would soon be back underfoot.

Henry! How was I going to get to the play, with all that was going on? It didn’t start until four, so I still had a little time, but I had to get Dayne and Gavin to the lighthouse soon, because no matter what, I couldn’t not show up for Henry’s play! He’d be crushed! He’d never forgive me, and I’d never forgive myself. Since I might not be taking any money for the work I was doing—I couldn’t, in good conscience, not if my efforts would help defeat the wind farm—the play might end up being the only good thing that came out of this week. Oh, and meeting Bert.

My anxiety moved toward alarm. I was practically hyperventilating as I imagined myself in the thick of things at the lighthouse as the minute hand clicked around a clock face, heading toward twelve, and four o’clock.
What
would I do? I had to do something to get this show on the road. Now!

Then I had my brainstorm. Vivi!

My original plan had been to keep her out of the way until Sunday morning, when I hoped to convince Emilia to take both children into the white light.
How
I was going to do this—Emilia was stark raving mad, after all—had yet to be determined. Like much of what I was up to right now, crossing my fingers and making everything up on the fly, this was
nothing but a half-baked scheme waiting for a stroke of inspiration. One that might never come.

But this one had! I looked out the front window to be sure there wasn’t a squadron of phantoms marching right up the front sidewalk. Then I hurried out to the barn. Vivi was sitting on Baden’s lap, and he was in the middle of explaining how the children in his family used to take turns cranking homemade ice cream. Vivi was entranced. They both looked remarkably happy, and given how seldom this could be said of either of them, I hated to break things up. But I had to pull Vivi away. I also gave Baden the nod. It was time to get the ghosts to the lighthouse!

The first raindrops were falling as Vivi and I walked back to the house. To her credit, she listened carefully as I outlined my idea. I noticed that Lauren and Mark’s car was gone from the driveway, and I hadn’t seen Lauren when I passed through the kitchen. This was probably just as well. I certainly didn’t want them at the lighthouse when everything was happening, and the fewer people I had to explain my actions to, the better.