Keep It In The Family

by lindencovenant

It's Thanksgiving in Schooner Bay's Day On universe, but Carolyn's job is in danger and there's a mystery that needs solving, sort of.

AUTHOR'S NOTE I do not own the characters who appeared in the original series; RA Dick's estate, the studios, and the actors portraying them do. Names of the new comers have been selected and adapted to honor more famous characters. These new characters belong to Mary and Amanda, under whatever penname we use. No infringement or other harm is meant. This is an entry in the Day On Universe. Thanks to Mary for the idea of Barnaby, and betaing, editing, cheerleading, and so on and so forth.

Tuesday November 23, 1982

Given the large size of the Gregg crew, holiday preparations required planning, division of labor, and what was more, the family liked any excuse to get together, even something so mundane as deciding who chopped the celery and who set the table. However, it didn't take long for Captain Gregg to realize something was troubling - he wasn't sure if Dave Farnon would be classified as son-in-law, cousin, or simply friend. Perhaps all three.

"What's wrong, son?" he asked. "You might as well confess, ghosts do have powerful means of persuasion, and besides, I can't help if I don't know what it is."

With a sigh, the young man grimaced. "Okay, I hadn't wanted to tell you all yet and ruin the holiday, but on the way over, I stopped at the Beacon to drop off some work I'd been doing at home. It's easier without Mark hovering, and well, there are more ads this time of year than any other."

Blackwood O'Ryan, the pastor in the family, refrained from comment on the commercialization of Christmas. For now.

"Anyway, thanks to all the hard work his staff has done," Dave went on, raising one blonde brow sarcastically, "translation, Carolyn and me, the Beacon has come to the attention of national papers, and he has received an excellent job offer in Boston, starting January third. Therefore, the Beacon is for sale, and if it does not sell, it will be closed at the end of the year."

Silence fell around the room. Finally, Jenny Farnon said as cheerfully as possible, "I'd been thinking of going back to work, part-time, since I have access to excellent childcare."

"Aye, that ye do, lass," Molly O'Casey, Amberly Farnon's godmother, beamed.

"Any idea how much he wants for the thing?" Lord Dashire asked, wishing that his attorney had arrived.

"Not a clue," Dave said. "But, even with Carolyn writing, it's not worth a lot, though that won't keep HIM from asking something ridiculous for it."

The wealthy ghost simply made a note to corner Adam Pierce as soon as possible and see about checking that matter out.

To break the tense silence that cast a pall over the room, Ed Peavey asked, "So, Mrs. Gregg, will your parents be arriving by bus or driving tomorrow? I can give them a lift if they come in at the station."

"They'll drive," she smiled. "And, I've got their room all ready."

Her son, Jonathan, nodded. "Yeah, and I'm the one who turned the mattress in the guest room."

"If you had waited, I would have helped you," his step-father said mildly.

"If you're offering help- I could use some at the church getting it decked out for Advent," Blackie said. "Ghosts are so much better at hanging things than mortals."

"Count me in on anything to do with ceilings," Tristan grinned.

"So, Bronwyn, how's the next play going?" Carolyn Gregg asked.

"Don't ask," the lady ghost grimaced. "Those actors are blasted lucky they have ME to torment, no sane woman would endure them. I do not see how your nephew expects me to assemble a Christmas play when everyone in town is running around dealing with the holiday being less than a month away. Nor do I comprehend how he expects me to manage half a dozen plays a year at all, considering that most people in Schooner Bay are mortal, and have other things to do. Of course, ghosts do as well, but we can recharge more quickly. Furthermore, there are not many people here who can act."

Daniel had just picked up Amberly, so he thought it best not to blast and thunder. He did say in a deceptively mild tone, "That benighted, bespectacled boor is not my nephew."

"Whether he is or not, I don't see how he can expect so much of me. I'm a ghost, not an angel."

"Of course you are, my dear. A perfect angel," Siegfried Matthews insisted charmingly.

From where he was building up the fire, Tristan grimaced. "I can't take my brother being so blasted nice much longer," he muttered.

"It's sweet," Lynne Avery whispered to the younger ghost. In a louder tone, she called, "Bronwyn, you should save the 1776 paraphrasing until Adam and Jess get here."

"Are they fans? I've never been in that play. I can't sing a note, but always admired it, even if I am English."

"Huge fans," Sean O'Casey confirmed. "I considered suggesting it to you, until you said you were overburdened. "I'd not mind playing John Adams."

"You are not obnoxious and disliked, dear sir," Molly chided.

"I don't think I could find that many good actors in this town," Bronwyn Tegan sighed. "Much less singers. There is a little more talent among the youth doing the church play, but really, no one expects much of children's presentations. And they can't be called upon for the theater's productions."

"You mentioned a ghostly acting troupe once?" Blackwood commented.

The thespian spirit shuddered. "The thought of Paul Duncan singing chills me. Now, there was another man who could sing well, perhaps even give Sean competition."

"Dave sings well," Jenny Farnon smiled softly, glancing at her husband, hoping to cheer him a little.

"Sweetheart," he protested, "I'm not that good."

"I've heard you, and I say you are," Charles Dashire said. "Besides, arguing with one's wife is not good form." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of music, husbands, wives, and so on, when will the Skeldale/ Midvale contingent get here?"

"Soon, I'm sure. It is a decent drive," Carolyn said. She glanced at Dash, who haunted the house in which her daughter and son-in-law lived. "If you can't pop, that is."

His Lordship shrugged elegantly. With a jerk of his head toward Tristan, he noted, "Well, the boy's the only ghost in this lot who's fascinated by horse-less carriages, and neither the Pierces nor the Averys drive a car large enough for five to sit comfortably, even if Jess is not showing much."

Tris rolled his eyes. He sincerely wished they'd find a very young ghost, a teen, perhaps, so that they would quit calling him "boy," "pup," "lad," etc. He had been around for over a century, after all.

Before Tris could find a polite, yet smart alecky retort, there was a knock at the front door.

"Bet that's them," Blackie said.

"I'll get the door, Carolyn," Dash offered. "I need to discuss something with Adam immediately."

"This is a social occasion, not business," Sean chided.

"One little question does not a business meeting make," Dash retorted.

"I'll come with ya, Charlie," Lynne said. "I haven't seen my kid in a few days, nor my sister."

"Thanks," Carolyn called, grabbing Dakota. The oversized rag-mop didn't need to be jumping on Thom, who still had a limp from his wreck, or Jess.

Just to see if they were right in their assumption, Dash glanced out the peephole Claymore had installed several years ago. He frowned. "It's a stranger," he called, shimmering into more modern dress as he did so. Sean, Daniel, and Sig followed suit. Tristan liked the current century quite well and usually was in jeans, while Molly and Bronwyn found that ladies' clothes of the twentieth century were more comfortable than those of the nineteenth by far.

"I'll answer, then," Lynne said, stepping around her unofficial boyfriend. Even though both she and Dash had made their peace with their past loves, he refused to date her, as she was the kind of lady who would not kiss on the first date, and he wasn't willing to give it up for even that long. Their not dates were a reasonable impression of the real thing, however.

When she pulled open the heavy door, Dr. Avery gasped. "Barnaby?"

Back in the living room, the Captain looked at his lady, one brow lifted. Carolyn shrugged in response to his tacit query. "Not a relative of mine, darling," she whispered.

"Oh, good, you are here," the man on the doorstep beamed. "That lady, Helen, said this was the place you most likely were, but I wasn't sure about just knocking on a stranger's door."

"Lynne?" Dash prompted, subtly reminding her it was December, and too cold to stand there with an open door or a guest on the stoop.

"Right. Come in, Barnaby," she invited. When the trio reached the living room, she smiled, still obviously disconcerted, though. "Guys, this is Barnaby King, my first cousin on my mother's side."

"Long time no see, hi," Blackie waved. "And, that distinguished fellow holding the baby is Daniel- Miles, the lord of the manor. Then, there's his wife, Carolyn. Said child is Amberly Farnon. Her parents are right over there, Dave and Jenny. Then, there's Charles Dashire, or Dash, standing behind you. Sean and Molly O'Casey beside Carolyn. Sig Matthews over on the window seat with Bronwyn Tegan. Tristan Matthews by the fireplace. Martha Peavey is in the rocker, and Ed Peavey is standing beside her. Jonathan Muir, Carolyn's son from her first marriage is sitting on the floor, for some reason. And the others aren't here yet."

"Who are the dog and kittens?" Barnaby asked, matter-of-factly.

"Dakota is the dog. D.C. and Tribble are the kittens," Jenny said.

"Dakota, or Daniel's, Cat, and you have a Trekkie in the family," Barnaby concluded.

"Dakota's," Tristan supplied.

"Uh, Barnaby, how did you get here, and - why didn't you call someone to come get you?" Lynne asked, not voicing her real question, "why are you here?"

"I took the train to Keystone, and caught a bus to Schooner Bay," he answered. "Walked from the bus station to your place, then Mrs. Wight told me where you were, and I walked on over. So, here I am. Isn't it bad luck for the groom and bride to be seeing each other before the wedding?"

"What wedding?" Molly asked.

"Hers and his," Barnaby said, glancing from Lynne to Dash. "I got the invitation, and ..."

"That was Aunt Jess and Adam's," Blackie corrected. "They'll be here any minute, and it was in April."

Reaching into his pocket the man pulled out a paper. "Darn it. The ink is smudged, and I could have sworn it said eleven-something."

Daniel came over to shake his hand and look at the invitation. "It does. Eleven-eighteen Sand Dollar Road is the address of the church. Here, April is the month given. This invitation has been terribly smudged. I can't believe it was just now delivered, and in such poor condition. What has the postal service come to?"

"Oh, well, it might have been in ... "

Lynne moaned. "Not the fridge!" The doctor rested her head in her hands.

Her cousin looked sheepish. "Well ... yeah. I found the note when I was cleaning the fridge out a few days ago, and the college had asked me to take part of my accrued vacation. Do you know I built up - well, a few month's worth of vacation and sick leave time? Well, anyway, I found the invitation, and saw that it said eleven- something, which I now realize was the address, not the date, but at the time, I thought it meant November, and I could spend some time visiting my favorite cousins, since I had so much of it, time that is. Maybe, I was just seeing what I wanted to."

"Whyeverdidn'tyouwritetoletusknowyouwerecoming?" Siegfried fired off. He haunted Lynne, and if she had a guest, he needed to think about where to live.

"ROB!" Bronwyn hissed. She had been trying to break him of that rapid speech habit of his.

"I did write," Barnaby replied. More than one set of eyes blinked in amazement that he'd understood. "Guess it got lost in the mail." He frowned and shook his head. "You say Jess is getting married? Or, got married, I guess. But, she's only a girl. I thought sure when I saw the two of you- well- you just look like you- fit."

"Jess is only about eleven years younger than you, Barnaby," Lynne said patiently. "She's having a baby now, I mean, she's pregnant. She's not at the hospital-"

"I know what you mean, Lynne," he looked exasperated. "It hasn't been long enough since April for her to have conceived and given birth. And you wouldn't be here, you'd be there, with her."

"You haven't cleaned your fridge in seven months?" Martha gasped. "But- how did it get in there?"

Now, Barnaby looked rather abashed. "Well, you see, I normally get the mail when I come in from work, I'm a professor at the local college, and since I forget lunch most of the time, I'm starved when I get home. So, I had the mail in one hand, and opened the fridge door with the other." His words were accompanied by demonstrative gestures. "But, then, I needed to get something out of there, so I would have set the mail down on one of the shelves. Now, sometimes, I stop and get groceries on the way home. When I do that, I also have to put them away, and April would be the month I replaced the baking soda that I keep in there. I do it in April and November, twice a year. Unless I forget, then, it's May or December, sometimes January. But, if I got the invitation on the day I changed the baking soda, then I probably set the soda on top of the invitation, which is in a smaller than normal sized envelope, so I didn't see it until I changed again."

Somehow, he made the bewildering explanation sound logical.

"We're glad to have you here, now," Carolyn said, rising to her feet to take his coat as a second rapping came to the door. "That should be Adam, Jess, Thom, and Candy. You weren't at Thom and Candy's wedding, were you?"

"Ah, no. School was starting just then, and I couldn't get away."

"I'll do the honors," Tristan offered, heading to the door.

As he opened it, Candy greeted him and said, "Mom, why's there a suitcase on the porch? Is Dad in trouble?"

"Ah, that would be mine," Barnaby replied. "I forgot about it between explaining everything else."

From behind Candy and Jess, Adam called, "Want me to bring it inside?"

"I could ..." Tris started to offer to pop it, then realized he couldn't in front of the newcomer, "Then again, you need the exercise, Adam."

"Ha," the lawyer said, hoisting the bag. "So could you, old man."

"Thanks!"

"Barnaby!" Jess exclaimed, while Thom frowned. He thought he probably was supposed to know this guy, but he hadn't seen much of his mother's kin, beyond the two that had moved there, since they had moved to Maine, so it was iffy.

Jess was already across the room hugging Barnaby, who looked a little overwhelmed. Adam, Thom, and Candy looked at Tris. The ghost shrugged. He was still trying to figure out why the invitation had been where it was for several months.

"I'll say this for him," the young man allowed in a soft voice, "he listened to Sig on a tear without batting an eye, and comprehended what my brother said."

"Okay, I'm impressed," Adam said, setting the shabby suitcase down. "Now, I think I'll go meet this person my wife is hugging."

"Thom, you come here, too," Lynne said. "You haven't seen Barnaby since you were nine."

After the introductions were made and the invitation story repeated, everyone settled down somewhat.

"I am sorry I missed your wedding, Jess, and for thinking it was Lynne's wedding."

"Just give Grandma time," Candy whispered to Jenny. "It will be."

Barnaby looked around. "This is a lovely house. Great design and workmanship."

Daniel beamed with pride. "So, what do you teach, Mr. King?"

"Oh, it's Barnaby. Somehow, I think we're all family here." He frowned thoughtfully, trying to sort out who was who. "I teach criminology. I also thought, well, I've always wanted to write a mystery novel, I did teach journalism for a while, early on. This trip might turn into a sabbatical to get that done."

"Too bad you weren't around a few years ago," Adam couldn't resist saying.

"Oh?"

"We had a skeleton in the basement," Carolyn explained, her lips quirking. At the time, it hadn't been at all funny, but in the intervening years, it had transformed into something hilarious.

"A hundred year-old one," Jon added.

"One hundred and ten," Daniel clarified. "The late, not very great, Sean Callahan the First."

"You almost sound like you knew the man and thought he deserved it," Barnaby noted.

"Reading about the - blighter," Sean said, "would convince anyone that he did."

"Quite a scoundrel," Dash agreed. Silently, he added to Sean, And that's still quite British of you, old son.

"How did he get in the basement?" Barnaby asked, leaning forward, his interest aroused.

"The young lady who conked him on the head with a fireplace poker got her housekeeper to help drag him down there and bury him," Lynne replied, smirking as she did so.

"Lynne, I fail to see why that is amusing," her cousin shook his head.

"I did the autopsy, and the idiot who runs the local paper interviewed me. He didn't see how it was possible that a girl no bigger than Candy there could bash in a man Daniel's size brains. I offered to demonstrate. He backed up like a freaked out crab. He'd been hoping Captain Gregg did the deed, I think."

"Because I had forced him to retract a mistaken article the Beacon ran a hundred years ago, reporting the Captain had killed himself when he had only had an unfortunate accident," Carolyn added. "It made his great-grandfather looked bad, which ticked off Mark's dad."

"Mark would be the bilge-brained idiot who runs the paper," Daniel added helpfully.

"Well, I would think the dedication to truth and so on would be welcome for someone interested in reporting the facts," Barnaby commented. "Commendable of you. Sounds like you are quite a detective, Mrs.-"

"Carolyn."

"Carolyn. And how did the skeleton's head get-conked? "

"As the result of wronging a young lady and refusing to marry her," Daniel replied. "Not to mention casting aspersions on the character of a sterling individual by pretending to be him."

The newcomer nodded. "I do admire your detective skills, and your quest for justice."

"Well, Captain Gregg, there, has become very dear to everyone in the family," she smiled softly, inclining her head toward the portrait.

Barnaby looked up at it. "Is that a Cade Kinley?"

Daniel and Dash blinked. "Yes, you are familiar with his work?"

"Yes. I - that's why you look familiar, Dash. Are you related to Charles and Aislyn Dashire, by chance? I ran across a portrait of them in a gallery about fifteen years ago. It was selling for an astronomical figure."

"Directly related, yes."

"Thought so. You're the image of the original Lord Dashire."

"It was of both of them?" Jenny, the artist of the bunch, asked.

"Yes. I take it Captain Gregg never married?"

"He could never be persuaded to be kept by the fire like a pet poodle," Carolyn replied. "I did a biography of the man. He was - magnificent. Not to mention sensational."

"He simply had not found a woman who was his equal," Daniel grinned back, with a wink. "I'm sure had he met you, my dear ..."

Barnaby observed this interplay, feeling as if he was missing something.

"How steep was the price?" Adam asked, a slight frown on his countenance. "Of the Dashire portrait?"

"Several thousand, at that time. I'm sure it's gone up."

"There's no need to worry over it, now, Adam," Dash softly told his friend. Inwardly, he shook his head at what inflation had done to his original thirty dollars. Blast it.

Had Barnaby not been there, the lawyer would have had a few choice words on how Dash had harped about the thing for years, and NOW it was not important?

"So, Barnaby," Blackie cut in, "will you be staying with me while you're here?"

Thom rolled his eyes. "Blackie, I wouldn't put Sean Callahan's skeleton in your guestroom."

"NowThom,IorganizedBlackwood'sguestroomsometimeback," Siegfried scowled.

Together, Tris and Bronwyn chided, "SLOW DOWN!"

"Well, I'd thought about staying with Lynne, but, that really wouldn't have been a good idea, since she would have been on her honeymoon, if I'd been right," the professor pondered.

"I'd be glad to have you over. Give me someone to practice sermons on," Blackie promised. He was figuring that if he didn't take his older cousin, he'd get Sig. Of the two, Barnaby seemed less trouble. At least he talked more slowly.

"I don't know how long I'll be staying. I was strongly encouraged to use up a good bit of my time," Barnaby confessed.

Blackie shrugged. "If you get to be a pain, I'll send you over to Thom and Candy."

Dash sent him an annoyed glare, as if to tacitly say, Excuse me? Where will I stay if they get a visitor staying for who knows HOW long?

"And," Martha said, "if you decide you want more privacy, we have a realtor in the family. Sort of."

"Sort of in the family, or sort of a realtor?"

"He's not in the family," Daniel muttered, too low for anyone but Carolyn or a ghost to hear. "And "sort of" would be an improvement on his skills."

"Sort of in the family," Martha said. "Though, we aren't sure how, exactly. He's not a bad realtor, not too bad. Don't tell him I said that, though. He rented Gull Cottage to Mrs. - Mrs. Muir when we first came here, while I was her housekeeper, and I had my doubts about the place, until I got used to it."

"I'll get Claymore's card for you," Carolyn offered, rising to go to her purse and fetch one.

Barnaby patted his pockets. "Darn, where are my reading glasses?"

Biting her lip, Carolyn said as she returned to her seat, "Look on top of your head."

"Oh!" Adjusting them, he read the cheaply produced card. "Claymore Gregg. Any relation to the guy in the painting?"

"No," Daniel said firmly. "It's simply a coincidence that they share the name, a fact Claymore's ancestors took advantage of after Captain Gregg kicked the blasted gas heater with his blasted foot."

His wife shot the Captain a look. If he wasn't careful, Daniel would reveal that it was his blasted foot that had kicked said heater.

Adam nodded, trying to help cover. "Uh, yeah. I sort of make it a hobby to investigate - historical cases, and I took a look at the Gregg case. Fascinating. The tie between Claymore's Greggs and Captain Gregg is quite- er- fishy, since Daniel Gregg was the only son of an only son. Cousins, at best. Probably."

"Ah," their guest nodded.

Not much more Thanksgiving planning was done, but the essentials were assigned. After Martha had persuaded Barnaby to eat some of the things she, Candy, and Jenny had prepared and they all visited a little while longer, Blackie made an excuse and left, taking the professor with him. He knew some of the family would want to leave in a less than conventional manner, so it behooved him to clear the path.

Lynne was one of the last to leave. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the Greggs. "I had no idea he was coming."

"Of course you didn't," Carolyn said. "And he does seem like a nice guy."

"He is. Just- scattered."

Rocking on his heels, Daniel asked, "Doctor, is he from the side of the family that can perceive spirits?"

She frowned. "I have no idea where either Blackwood or Jess got it, so maybe, but I'm thinking no one talks about it, since neither of them knew that the other was sensitive. He might be, and didn't say anything, or is and doesn't know what it is. Come on, Captain, you guys all look- I can't say ordinary because ordinary does not compare to your crew, but - not- other worldly. Most people, Paul Wilkie wherever he is notwithstanding, don't look at someone and think are they a ghost or not. Or alien." She sighed. "But, be careful. He's a good man, and gives this impression of being - less than he is. Fact of the matter is, he's a genius, always seeing - patterns and drawing conclusions that are on target out of the blue. If anyone can figure you all out, it'll be him."

Frowning, Daniel rubbed his ear. "I suspected as much from some of his comments. However, we can deal with it. He's not the type to run to the papers, I trust?"

"I don't think so."

"We'll jump off that bridge if we come to it," Carolyn smiled gently at her friend.

"Use my own words against me, why don't you?" Lynne pretended to scowl.

"She is adept at that," the Captain grinned.

"I sense a story, but now is not the time. Even though Blackwood took charge of him, I feel sort of responsible for looking after him while he's here. I can't shut down the practice for the day tomorrow, though I probably will take off early. Barnaby has a decent sense of direction, if he doesn't get - distracted - could you - er- ESP Tris and see if he could drive him around - show him where things are?" She paused, then added, "Just do not, whatever else you or anyone does, let him behind the wheel."

Daniel nodded. "I'll ask him, I'm sure Tristan will be more than delighted to have an excuse to drive."

"And, if he's busy, I seem to recall I was given the task of some of the shopping. Since Mom and Dad probably won't be here before noon, or one, I could take him along with me?" Carolyn offered.

"Thank you," Lynne said, then bid them goodnight.

XXX

Wednesday

It was decided that Tristan would do the driving, plus pitch in on carrying things as Carolyn shopped, and that would be combined with showing Barnaby Schooner Bay.

As the trio got out of the car to stroll down the boardwalk, Barnaby glanced at Tristan, who was wearing a pullover, but no jacket. "Aren't you chilly?"

Looking surprised, the young ghost blinked. "Ah, I forgot my jacket on the way out this morning. Darn it. I can hear Siegfried now if I catch a cold, he'll yell at me, saying it's my own blasted fault. Of course, it'll be too fast for me to know what he is saying."

"Actually, being cold is just uncomfortable," Barnaby noted. "It won't make you sick."

"I'll remember that to tell him when he's yelling," Tristan nodded, then gestured to the window of the bookshop. "Look, Mrs. Captain, your and Jenny's books are right there in the front window."

"You're a writer?" Barnaby asked. "Of novels, I mean, I had gathered you wrote for the paper."

"We're a rather literary family," Carolyn said modestly. "My husband and I have been a writing team for sometime now." She flushed, recalling their first effort. "And, my foster daughter has been doodling stories for ages, and I guess being around us might have inspired her to give it a whirl herself, with success."

"Blasted good thing," Tris added. "I tell you, I've a mind to - to give Mark a piece of my mind. Heaven knows he could use it." He barely stopped himself from saying "haunt Finley into madness."

"Did he give your books a bad review?"

"No. He's selling the paper, where both Dave and I work," Carolyn said. Shaking herself, she said, "Let's step inside. Tristan, you're making me cold looking at you. And since I'm not the only writer in the world, I'd like to see if there's anything worth reading in there."

As they walked inside, Tristan gestured at a display. "Don't get that book unless you and C- Mr. Miles want to get in a terrible row."

Carolyn picked up the novel. "The Case of the King's Fall? What's wrong with it?"

"It's a puzzle book disguised as a mystery novel. Whoever puts it together correctly first wins something like a million dollars," Tristan explained. "Sig got hold of it, and I read it also. We've been trying to figure it out since it was released last month. He thinks one thing, I think another, and well- you know us. At least we're arguing about something impersonal this time. I think Clay wants to borrow it when we're done."

"For the money?" Barnaby asked.

"What else would get him away from the electric bird book?" Tris asked rhetorically.

"Well, I love a good mystery," Barnaby said. "I think I'll get a copy."

"Read it and you can settle the argument between my brother and me," Tristan suggested.

"Maybe that one, but not all of them, I'm sure," Barnaby said.

"You said you were thinking of writing a mystery," Carolyn noted. "It seems like this family is bursting with literary types- Daniel, Sean, Jenny, me. Jess is a teacher. Blackie writes sermons. Dave does ads. Tristan here writes music, and I'm sure Adam has to get a little creative as a lawyer."

"Unless it's Candy who does the actual writing," Tris suggested. "So, have you started your book, Mr. King?"

"Barnaby, and no. I'm not sure how to begin."

"Maybe try adapting a real case into a story?" Carolyn suggested.

"Hmm. Not a bad idea. Maybe something to do with your basement?"

"I'm not sure about that. Sean Callahan, the present one, might get touchy about us revealing his ancestor is a ... " Carolyn groped for a word.

"Two-timing jerk?" Tristan suggested. "Not to mention imposter and someone deserving of being keelhauled and run up the mizzenmast?"

"That's one way of putting it. And, Vanessa might not like hearing about her great-grandmother being a murdress."

Barnaby frowned inwardly again. It really did sound like these two had known Callahan well, or knew someone who had known him well. "Maybe you can help me figure out a doable idea?"

Carolyn looked amused for some reason. "I'd be happy to."

"What was funny?"

"A friend of ours, Justin," Tristan sounded like he was on the verge of giggling, "likes to use that word."

"That's not his name," Carolyn sighed.

"Then, let Fontenot tell us what his first name really is," Tristan said. "It must be something horrible- like Eustace."

"Don't tell me you're already reading Amberly the Chronicles of Narnia?" Barnaby blinked. "Isn't she too young for something that allegorically complex?"

"How did you know we've all started reading that aloud to her?" Carolyn asked.

"It's the only place I've heard the name Eustace," the man shrugged. "And since it is a children's book ..."

"Well, everyone's reading to her, and we have made it to the Dawn Treader," Tristan returned. "Even if she can't get all the finer points."

"Very enlightened of you. Not many people believe children's minds are capable of as much as they really are."

"I don't know how much she understands, but she is learning to associate reading and love," Carolyn answered.

"Excellent idea."

By now, they had checked out and were heading back into the cold. Tristan remembered to shiver once or twice for effect.

The grocery store came next. Then, a brief tour of the town.

"Carolyn! Oh, Carolyn!" a high, breathy voice hailed them as they started into the last stop on the list.

With Tristan looking as if he'd cheerfully pop into the ether if it was not a public place, the three turned to see Margaret Sharpe-Coburn hastening over.

"Hello, Margaret," Carolyn forced a smile. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Oh! Yes, Happy Thanksgiving," the vapid blonde agreed. "How ARE you, Tristan? You were so marvelous as Prince Nicky. I've been meaning to tell you that, and your brother was simply inspired."

"Thanks," the young man said, a bit tersely.

"This is Barnaby King, Dr. Lynne's cousin," Carolyn introduced. "Barnaby, this is Margaret Sharpe."

"How do you do?" he greeted as Margaret extended her hand, as if expecting him to kiss it. He simply shook the arched fingers awkwardly.

"Well, I'm a little a loose ends. Conner will be with Brian tomorrow."

"Will Linda be back from college perhaps?" Tristan asked. "I'm sure a nice mother-daughter weekend would be fun for you."

Favoring the young looking man with a sour glare, she replied, "No, she's busy. Of course, I had Linda when I was much younger. Almost a child. Will you be here long, Mr. King?"

"I really don't know," he said. "Carolyn, didn't you say you wanted to get home to greet your parents?"

"Yes, I did. We'll see you later, Margaret."

At a safe distance away, Barnaby grimaced. "She's sure determined to find the next Mr. Margaret, isn't she?" he asked in a low voice.

"You noticed?" Tristan lifted one brow.

"Hard not to."

XXX

After dropping Barnaby off at the parsonage, Carolyn and Tristan turned toward Gull Cottage, though when they were a safe distance away, he simply popped back home.

A car was parked in front of Gull Cottage when she arrived. Sure enough, Brad and Emily Williams had arrived and were being caught up on recent events.

"My goodness, Carolyn, I almost wish we could tell Harriet what all goes on with you," Emily exclaimed. "The way she bemoans you being stuck up in the 'hinterlands' to use her word ... If she and Hazel knew the half of it, they'd be shut up permanently. You have an actress in the family now, and this Barnaby fellow just landing on your doorstep out of the blue."

"Now, Emily, don't tempt me to have you tell Harriet the truth. The idea of her being shut up permanently is delicious," Daniel smirked.

"Amen," Brad nodded. "So, this new guy- he's from Dr. Lynne's family. Does he see spirits like Blackie and Jess do?"

"If he does, he hasn't admitted it," Carolyn said. "Though I did think the jig was up today. Tristan forgot his coat. He doesn't get cold, but Barnaby noticed."

"Oh, dear," Emily shook her head. "Did he cover?"

"Yes, in his own way. And, Daniel, you will be proud of him, he didn't vanish when we ran into Margaret."

"Isn't she too old for him?" Emily asked.

"I doubt she cares," Daniel said dryly, "but, technically, he is far too old for her."

"He doesn't look too old," Emily shook her head. "You know what I mean, Daniel!"

"So, how are Thom and Candy holding up?" Brad asked. "I'm afraid Emily and I owe her an apology, all that hinting we were doing for a great-grandchild ... but, at the same time, I don't want to stir up bad feelings."

"They're doing okay," Carolyn answered. "And, the hostility seems to have cooled down between Tris and Thom. Though, the reason why is- tough to take."

Sad nods went around the room.

"Well, Jon, are you seeing anyone?" Emily asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Uh, no. Unless you mean in the literal - my eyes are working fine sense. Then, yeah. I see you and Mom, and grandpa, and Captain Dad ... "

"Don't be impertinent," Daniel warned.

"Kinda hanging back from dating, after last year. I sure wouldn't bring one home for Thanksgiving," the boy affirmed.

"Good plan," his grandfather nodded, shaking his head. He hadn't really liked Ralph Muir's concept of the ideal girl for Jonathan at all. "So, how many people will be here tomorrow?"

"A LOT," Jonathan said emphatically.

"Let's see, the five of us," Carolyn listed, "the O'Casey's, Thom and Candy, Jess and Adam, Fontenot, Claymore, Lynne, Sig, Tris, Bronwyn, Dash, Blackie, Barnaby, Ed, and Martha."

"Martha has suggested a buffet. Even my grand dining room is not that large," Daniel added with a rueful look.

"That is a large number," Emily agreed. "But, if you can handle it, wonderful."

"We can," Carolyn smiled. "It's only three more than the maximum usual."

"Now, what about this Finley scalawag?" Brad asked with a scowl. "Why hasn't the crew haunted him into not pulling this stunt?"

"We just learned of it," Daniel said in his own defense.

"I think Tris is considering how to do it," Carolyn acknowledged.

"Ah. We will consult, then," Daniel smiled. "Though, the idea of getting rid of Finley is sweet." He shrugged. "It might take greater creativity to accomplish both saving the paper, such as it is, and eliminating Finley. I still can not imagine why anyone would want to promote HIM."

"Well, without my daughter making him look good, he'll fall on his face," Brad affirmed.

Carolyn flushed. She knew she ought to protest modestly, but to be honest, Mark had no talent, and she agreed that without help, he was sunk.

"Now, Daniel was no help on this question," Emily said. "Tell me how Dashire and Lynne are coming along. Are they actually dating yet?"

"Still- not dating on a regular basis," Carolyn shook her head. "I do think that they both reached some sort of - epiphany - a couple of weeks ago. Lynne went to visit her husband's grave, and Thom mentioned that Dash spent several hours locked up in his suite, then came downstairs looking- freer. And, they spent a lot of time together the night of Thom's accident."

"I heard Adam took the case to sue the other driver. How's that going?" Brad asked.

"Adam creamed them," Jonathan chortled.

"He was able to get the idiot squid to settle out of court, for an amount that covers all damages, plus pain and suffering, though not all of that," Daniel said. "And he did it without a bit of help." On that note, he sounded slightly baffled.

"Bet you wish you coulda haunted the other guy's lawyer into agreeing," Brad guessed.

"It would have been most interesting," Daniel allowed. "All's well that end's well, I suppose."

"Absolutely," Carolyn beamed. "I'm sure we'll find someone for you to haunt, at the right time."

XXX

Thanksgiving

People began arriving at Gull Cottage shortly after breakfast. Martha, Molly, and Jenny had taken over the kitchen by nine in the morning. The male ghosts set to rearranging furniture and bringing in firewood. There was an cold front due to blow in during the early afternoon, and since they would have one guest who they did not think knew about ghosts, popping in logs was not an option. By the time the mortal family members had all arrived, everything was well underway.

Carolyn, Dave, Sean, Jenny, and Barnaby found a quiet area to discuss writing how to's, since Lynne's cousin wanted to write his first novel while he was in Schooner Bay. Dave promised to get in touch with the proper people when it was ready. From the notes Barnaby had brought with him in hopes of getting the professionals' opinions, it looked like it would be worthwhile.

"Claymore, get out of the kitchen! Stop mooching. Lunch will be ready soon enough!" Candy scolded, shooing him back to the living room. "Go- work the crossword."

"Dashire already did it," the little man grumbled. "Couldn't you- get one from Skeldale for me? Their paper comes out every day."

"How would we get it?" Thom asked, staring at Claymore hard. "I know Jenny's been trying to build a transporter beam in the garage, but she hasn't yet."

"Just-oh." Claymore realized they were in mixed company and sighed. "Blast."

"Come watch the parade with Amberly and me," Jess said. "I'm practicing baby holding. It's easier when said baby isn't wiggly."

"With so many handsome men around, Jess dear, I imagine the child is wanting a different holder," Bronwyn teased.

At the sound of her voice, Barnaby looked up. "It's been bugging me, I know I've seen you somewhere before." He frowned. "No, impossible."

"What's impossible?" Adam asked.

"I believe five impossible things before breakfast, which I skipped because I know what good cooks we have here, so do tell," Tristan chimed in. "I'm only up to three."

"It seems like I saw Bronwyn in a play, as - Cleopatra, when I was in college, twenty years ago, but she looked like she does now."

"My mother was on the stage," the actress bluffed. "I was born in a trunk."

"That must be it," the professor nodded.

"So, I'm still at three," Tris shrugged.

"Good night nurse," Blackie said. "It's really coming down out there. I think the front arrived a mite early."

Everyone looked out the window.

"Could go like that for hours," Daniel noted, with a practiced eye.

"Can't you stop it?" Claymore asked nervously.

"I'm not that impressive," the Captain snapped.

"Yeah, Claymore, NO ONE controls the weather," Jonathan said.

"Why would he think you could?" Barnaby asked.

Lynne crossed the room and leaned over to whisper, "Consider the source, cousin."

"Then again, it could let up," Fontenot noted. "Weather's unpredictable. And no, I can't control it either, Claymore."

"There's worse things than being stranded at Gull Cottage," Dash said with a touch of nostalgia.

"Aye, now," Sean agreed, glancing toward the kitchen where Molly was checking something.

"Long as the turkey is the only bird," Tristan put in.

"There's no vultures on the menu," popped out of Carolyn before she could think.

"Not until next year," Daniel answered darkly.

"Just turkey today," Martha announced. "No Sea Vultures, and it's ready. If Blackie would do the honors ..."

"I never get a day off," the pastor said in mock mournfulness, then gave the blessing.

Since the weather showed no sign of letting up following lunch, everyone set out to find ways to pass the time. Dash and Fontenot offered to help with the dishes, and once they were in the kitchen popped out to see if the pets locked in the other houses in the fleet were doing all right. Someone found cards and set up a game of canasta while Martha played the piano.

"Adam," Siegfried called, "you are an expert in the law, yes?"

"I like to think so," the attorney smirked. "What's the trouble?"

"No trouble, dear boy. I thought thatperhapsyoucould -"

"Siegfried," Tristan hissed.

"Settle this argument Tristan and I have been engaged in," the older ghost continued more slowly. "We've been reading that mystery book, and have narrowed it down to two possible suspects, but are quite divided on which of the pair is most likely."

"I could tell you that. I think I've got it figured out," Claymore insisted. "Besides, what do you two need with money? I'm just not sure how I can prove it. The rules say you have to lay out WHY the killer is the killer."

"I told you all ten years ago, I'm not a criminal attorney," Adam said, but his eyes twinkled. "However, I have read the book I think you are speaking of, and can give you five reasons why each of the suspects did it. It's a defense lawyer's dream case; there's reasonable doubt all over the place."

"Well, naturally! That's what makes it a mystery," Tristan said.

"And worth a million big ones," Claymore added.

"Perhaps between the four of us, we could settle the matter. I'm sure even Tristan and I could do something with a quarter of a million dollars," Siegfried suggested.

"I think we could," the younger ghost nodded. "Now, then, Adam, you are a logical man. Surely you see that it's got to be -"

"Janice Barclay," Claymore cut in decisively. "The new wife who was going to inherit it all."

"That is far too obvious, don't you think?" Siegfried asked.

"But, she seemed so sweet, that no one would suspect her," Claymore insisted. "And she got the money."

"So, wouldn't the children from the other marriages be ticked off and want revenge?" Siegfried asked.

"Which one of them? There were three, not counting those born on the wrong side of the sheets," Adam pointed out.

"The oldest would be most likely, of all the children," Tristan said. "IF it was any of them, which is wasn't. It was -"

"Excuse me," a soft voice tried to interject. Barnaby waved at the four men. "I think I might have it worked out. I read the book -"

"That's okay, we're on it," Claymore said.

"Claymore, be nice," Siegfried chided.

"I don't want to split five ways," Claymore scowled.

"It's a lot of money," Tristan scoffed. "There's enough of it for several to share."

"See, that's why you'll never solve this. The wife wanted it all, but he woulda changed the will, so she had to hurry up and -"

"No, it can not be anyone obvious," Tristan insisted in exasperation, slapping his knee. "If it was obvious, the thing would be solved in a flash. The people giving away the money don't want to have to do it, now do they? So, it'll be hard to get."

"You do have a point," Claymore mused.

"Besides," Bronwyn said as she drifted over to join them, "it seems to me the wife loved the fellow. She'd never kill a man she loved."

"If she really loved him and wasn't faking," Claymore said. "And she acted nice, so -"

"You already said that no one suspected her because she seemed nice, but she might have been- nice, that is," Adam said. "It has been known to happen."

"What about the age difference? The victim was a LOT older than his wife," Claymore insisted.

"So?" Jess asked blandly. "I can think of a relationship or two that involves vaster differences than that." She had moved over to join the conversation. "At least one or two."

"But, Jess, those involved exceptional people," Tristan smirked. "Still, I don't think the widow dun it. Way too - overused and obvious."

By now, Carolyn and Daniel had joined the group. "Just so," the Captain nodded. "If it were the bride, the prize would be gone in short order; she is the most likely suspect."

"Unless it's a case of hiding in plain sight," Adam essayed, pursing his lips. "But, I do agree, Captain. Just, considering all sides. Er..." It hit him that he'd said "Captain."

Hoping to cover for him, Carolyn jumped in, "Maybe the most unlikely person would be the best guess? I've noticed that one of the mystery writers ALWAYS uses someone that's such a background character, I hardly noticed them. I loaned you one of her books, didn't I, Sean?"

"Oh, aye, ADMIRAL," he nodded.

"You're very nautical here, aren't you?" Barnaby commented.

"It's the atmosphere," Martha said. "Day we arrived, Jonathan hadn't been in the house five minutes before he sounded like an old salt."

"Yeah, Candy and I were pen pals at the time," Jenny nodded. "By the first letter I got from her, she was using all kinds of marine slang, and she hadn't even- hadn't even lived here that long."

"It's made it very easy to get into the heads of the early disciples, well, at least Peter, James, Andrew, and John," Blackie caught the thread. "They were seamen, too, after all. The atmosphere really gets into you."

"We are getting OFF TOPIC," Claymore exclaimed in total exasperation. "Come on, let's solve the mystery."

For the next fifteen minutes, the weather was forgotten as opinions were tossed around the room.

"You haven't said much, Ed," Emily encouraged. "What do you think?"

"Well, I'm inclined to agree with Martha, that the secret son did it," Mr. Peavey said very slowly.

"You just want cherry pie," Claymore huffed.

"Then again," Ed went on, "it might have been someone else. Or not."

Hearing his familiar turn of phrase, the Carolyn, Daniel, Candy, and Jonathan had to laugh.

"No, it was the oldest heir," Siegfried stated firmly.

"Sig, old son," Dash said before Tristan could get into it with his brother, "one turn as a detective in a Christie play does not a sleuth make."

"Barnaby," Lynne said. "You have been awfully quiet. What do you think?"

Her cousin rose and walked over to the mantle. "You've all made some excellent points. In fact, once or twice, I was almost convinced of who did it, but you've completely ignored one suspect. It was the old man's best friend, Leon. They served together in World War Two, and became familiar with Oriental customs. Now, the doctor's report showed that the victim had a fatal disease, and would soon begin to fail, such that he would not really be himself. Knowing how humiliating and DISHONORING it would be, Leon killed him." Barnaby then proceeded to lay out how the poison had been administered, but in such a way as to throw suspicion onto several other people, effectively clouding Leon's deed. Insurance companies might quibble and call it a suicide, since the two men had promised once to kill each other rather than allow themselves to be captured and tortured, so it had to look like murder. The fact that the man's children had found the body first and tried to make it look more murder-like when they thought he'd killed himself only made matters harder to figure.

"Yes, yes, I see," Carolyn nodded.

"Blast, that's it exactly," Daniel agreed.

"Call that number," Adam suggested. "Win the million."

"Oh, I did that last night, after Blackie went to bed. Couldn't sleep and stayed up to finish the story. It was clear to me, so I decided I might as well. I wanted mostly to see if I was right. Now, I'm not sure, listening to all of you."

"I'm sure. You nailed it," Candy said.

"The facts fit perfectly," Fontenot agreed.

Claymore let out a small sigh. "Darn it. I had such huge dreams ... "

"When will they let you know if you won or not?" Lynne asked.

"Probably tomorrow, or Monday, depending on how long they take off for the holiday," Barnaby said.

"Monday," Dave said. "I know how that publishing house operates."

"Hmm. I'd say the term long weekend has just taken on added depth," Daniel concluded.

"Especially if we're snowbound," Thom added.

"There are a few more of us than ... " Dash began, then broke off. "Than would be comfortable," he amended.

"But, some of you could just vanish, right?" Barnaby asked.

For a moment, no one spoke, then, Carolyn said, "What?"

At the same moment, Daniel asked, "I beg your pardon?"

Lynne simply stared at the ceiling, silently saying, I told you so.

"You're the ghost of Daniel Gregg, aren't you? And, I haven't quite sorted out exactly who is and who isn't, but there's a few of you here. I'd guess Sean, probably Molly, Siegfried, Bronwyn, Tristan, and- I'm going out a limb, Dashire."

"Ahem," Fontenot cleared his throat.

"You too?" the professor blinked.

"Just so."

"Or Just Fontenot," Tristan snickered under his breath, flinching when Siegfried punched his arm. "Laughter to keep from freaking out, my brother."

"This is becoming a distressing Thanksgiving habit," Adam muttered.

"I don't think he's another Donna," Jess hissed.

"Well, that is obvious. Wrong gender, older, and not shrill or stupid."

"I feel ill," Claymore said.

"Why? You aren't revealed, you simpering sea slug," Daniel barked.

"I just do."

"Claymore, your heart-" Lynne fretted.

"No, not that."

"But, what's wrong? I don't plan on telling anyone," Barnaby asked in bewilderment. "I was just saying that if we are snowbound, there's at least a few of you that can get in and out if we need supplies and- do you guys sleep?"

"Actually, yes," Tristan beamed. "Thanks to my discovery that revolutionized ghostdom."

"I will be preaching on humility next week," Blackie said serenely.

"It's a recent innovation," Molly said.

"SO," Jess asked, "Barnaby, do you have what Blackwood and I call ghostdar? You can see spirits?"

"Are they normally invisible? But, I thought people knew you guys, but as guys, or ladies, as the case may be?"

"They do, but Aunt Jess and I can see that they are spirits, even though they don't look like it, at the moment. Do you see a glow around them?" Blackie asked.

"Uh, no. Should I?" Barnaby frowned.

"Only if you have the gift, as they do," Molly said.

"Or have been around ghosts for a while," Candy added. "It can develop."

"I think Amberly can, despite our best efforts at normalcy around her," Daniel said.

"That would make sense," Barnaby said. "Children are noted for having clear vision."

"How did you guess?" Dave demanded. "I hung out with Tris for years, and never guessed."

"Little stuff," Lynne's cousin said. "The way you Candy, Jenny, and Jonathan seem to see a man that has been their step-parent officially for a short time as a real father, Tristan not being cold, Daniel's knowledge of the family history, Dash's being identical to himself in the portrait, Bronwyn's lack of aging since I saw her in that play. I remembered, the voice is identical as well as the look. I take it as a compliment that you are all comfortable enough around me to slip."

"You should," Emily smiled. "Brad and I never guessed the truth until we were told it. We were confused by a lot of things, but it never entered our minds."

"I had my suspicions," Ed maintained. "About this place, anyway. Never guessed that Miz Muir was dating a ghost, or that the fancy man was a ghost."

"Is he talking about me or you, lad?" Dash asked Tristan.

"You," Sean nodded.

"I am not fancy."

"Yes, you are, but it's endearing, Charlie," Lynne teased fondly.

"You are dating a ghost, Lynne?"

"No, she's non-dating a ghost," Brad said. "A different one from the one we planned on her - dating, but yeah."

"And she's here and happy with it," the doctor said firmly. "My love life- verboten, guys."

"Keep telling yourself that," Jess smirked.

"Well," Tristan announced, "this is fantastic. With everyone in the know, as it were ..."

"No, you can not get on the ceiling," Martha said.

"It's not like I track mud across it," he retorted.

"No, but it is unnerving," she shot back.

"And, as I have said before, you are not a bat," the Captain intoned.

"No, but wouldn't that be a cool car to have, the batmobile," Tristan grinned. "But, I was not planning on doing that. Hadn't even considered it until it was suggested."

"You were saying, little brother," Siegfried started.

"Rob," Bronwyn sighed.

"What is fantastic, Tristan?" Dave asked.

"We can spend the afternoon telling Barnaby all our stories instead of staring at the weather and pretending we aren't what we are."

"One afternoon won't be nearly enough!" Carolyn smiled.

"First, you did say you have no intention of broadcasting this information?" Adam asked, leaning forward earnestly.

"Why would I?"

"There is a ghost hunter in Ireland, last we heard," Daniel said, "that would probably be happy to make use of the stories. I doubt he is the only one."

Barnaby shrugged. "It's none of their business. Besides, I can see that knowing all of you has made my cousin there happier than I've seen her in - however many years it's been."

Daniel smiled. "It all began when I kicked the blasted gas heater with my blasted-"

"Danny, not to correct you, but really, it began way before that- with you, Molly, and me growing up here," Sean suggested.

"OrwithBronwynandImeetingand-"

"Slow DOWN!" several voices chorused.

"But, the important parts didn't start until that night when I was twelve," Claymore attempted to say.

"Important!"

"Oh, do be quiet, all of you!" Fontenot snapped. "If we go chronologically, I would begin, as I'm more than three times older than the oldest of you. However, we do not discuss my distant past. Therefore, I believe a good starting point would be September twenty-first, nineteen-hundred-sixty-eight."

XXX

Despite the storm that ushered in the cold front, by seven, the roads were clear enough for everyone to leave that needed to.

Around ten p.m., the Captain and his lady had a chance to be alone. As she leaned against her husband, Carolyn asked, "Daniel?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I know how you value your privacy, but these last few years, - it's gotten kinda shot. I was wondering, do you mind?"

"Would that alter the facts?" the Captain asked.

"Of course not, but I'd like to know if you wish a few less people knew."

"I will admit I had doubts about letting your parents know," the ghost allowed thoughtfully. "However, that has worked out well. Dashire was the one who told Adam; it only made sense for you, Martha, and the children to know the truth, since you did move into my home; when the girls and Martha married, their husbands had to learn the truth; Blackwood and Jess could see us; and Lynne's knowledge of us also seems to be the right thing. All in all, Claymore is the only one I would choose to not have know, but he did initiate contact with ME."

"What about Barnaby?"

"I trust he will not go- spilling any beans. His deductive skills are admirable, though I will have to consider if the crew does anything that would lead others to that conclusion."

"And you never feel ... " Carolyn groped for the right word. "Crowded?"

Despite the darkness, she could feel his smile. "No, my darling. Not with our family. Now, at the times when we are flooded with invading forces, such as weddings, baptisms, and so on, yes."

Mrs. Gregg giggled. "Me too. Maybe if we're due for any other weddings, the parties involved could schedule the ceremony for the same time Jess is due?"

"Blackwood or Jonathan would have to work fast to find a young woman and become engaged by then," Daniel mused. "I have no idea what Siegfried and Bronwyn might be considering, and I have yet to figure out what Dashire and the good doctor are up to."

"I'm not sure they know either," Carolyn grinned.

"But, I have no room to criticize. It took you and I long enough," the Captain reminded her.

"So, you never wish you were alone, or want to take off for a while?" Carolyn probed. "Get away from it all?"

"Would you go along?"

"You would want that?"

"Absolutely. I searched for you for over a century, and nearly lost you more than once. Now that I do have you, I have no intention of letting you get away." His arms tightened around Carolyn. "I do not see how we could get away for a vacation before the holidays, except perhaps a weekend ..."

"Do you ever wish you could go to sea again?" she persisted.

"I would love to show you my ship, but alas, that would only be - doable- in a dream." Daniel brushed the top of his lady's head with a kiss.

"That would suffice," Carolyn said. "Perhaps- could you sustain an illusion or dream for a week?"

"It would be - taxing. Perhaps- dream time is rather different from real time, my dear. If we could arrange to be undisturbed for a weekend, even for a day, I could give you a week, or more at sea, just the two of us," the ghost said.

"This weekend ..."

"Impossible, I know," he nodded. "The next?"

"It's a date. No sea charts to do?"

"They can wait, love."

XXX

Friday was a blur of busy-ness. Daniel, Jess, Siegfried, Dashire, Thom, Jonathan, and Emily headed to Keystone at five in the morning to get in on the early bird specials. Sean and Tristan were up equally early, but not for shopping. Blackie wanted fresh greenery to decorate the church, so they headed to the woods before dawn to gather holly and fir. When they were done, Blackie, Dave and Amberly, Brad, Adam, and Bronwyn joined them at the church to decorate. Candy, Jenny, Molly, and Carolyn stayed closer to home to shop. Skeldale had a nice market area. Lynne opened her office for a few hours, just in case Thanksgiving provoked food poisonings, assorted mishaps, or there were non-holiday related illnesses to take care of. By noon, however, it was fairly clear that she was not needed professionally by anyone. So, Lynne called Barnaby to come over for lunch and maybe help her get the tree out of the attic.

"Isn't it terribly early to be decorating?" her cousin asked as she set a turkey sandwich before him.

"Blackie's decorating today."

"For Advent," the professor pointed out.

"Jess told me about a woman in Houston who start putting out Christmas stuff in August."

"August?"

"Well, she does have a LOT of villages and - frou-frou," Lynne admitted. "But, still, it is way earlier than November."

"Why do I have a feeling there's more to it than wanting to be early?" Barnaby asked as he twisted his glass of iced tea around absently.

"You shouldn't interrogate people who are feeding you," she shot back grumpily. "I just want to get it done. Today."

"Now, I have to find out why you're so anxious to decorate. Today. There seems to be a particular emphasis on it being this day. Come on, fess up."

"Because- everyone's busy- today, except me. And maybe Claymore, but he's not apt to- to do anything."

"So, you want to one up everyone on decorating? That's not- you, Lynne."

"Of course not. I just won't be- interrupted while I get it done. That's ALL."

Barnaby leaned forward. "Lynne, you are a terrible liar."

"I'm very honest," the doctor snapped.

"Yes, you are, that's what I mean. When you lie, you don't do it very well. WHO don't you want to interput you? You are not an artisan about Christmas stuff, or you never have been. I can remember you rolling your eyes and making faces about all the fuss your older sister would make over holidays."

"She went overboard."

"Did Dashire trap you under the mistletoe?"

Pink suffused Lynne's face. "Did I say a word about Ch- Dash? He has nothing to do with- anything, at all. Period."

"Lynne. It's obvious there's SOMETHING going on there. I think it'd be great if you remarried, it's been what- thirty years?"

"HEY. Twenty-three!"

"And longer for him, if he was ever married."

"Aislynn. They had seven children." Her voice cracked a little as she recalled the night he'd comforted her and told her about his life.

"She's not a ghost?"

"Nope. But, she was the great love of his life. Mourned her for 'bout a hundred years." To her great annoyance, Linden heard sulkiness in her tone.

"Seems like he might be past that, from what I can tell. And you have quit wearing your ring."

"He likes to flirt. It's fun. It's just- we aren't dating. Or anything."

"What did he do at Christmas last year?"

"He caught me singing."

Barnaby stared. "So? You have a great voice."

"Do not. If you want to hear a great voice, come to church. Molly has one. Your lunch is getting cold."

"It's a sandwich."

"It's even colder then. There's starving children in - "

"Good grief, Lynne. What did he do besides hear you sing?"

"He- danced with me." By now, she was bright red.

"Is that a code word for- ?"

"NO! Sheesh, Barnaby. No. We just - danced- danced. Not- danced. And we've gone out, on - a few - social occasions. Sorta. We might have kissed, once or more."

Lynne stared at her feet while her cousin considered her words, tapping his fork.

"That is annoying when Adam does it. Stop it," she snapped.

"You like him."

"Well, yeah. He's nice."

"You know what I mean. Love. I've heard kids talk. Like means love a lot of the time," Barnaby sighed.

"I do not."

"Linden, stop it. If you have been dancing around this issue for over at least a year, no pun, well, not much of one, intended, then look- he's a decent guy. You're still young-ish, why not be happy?"

"I AM happy, except when people- insert your name here- are pestering me. I thought you wanted to write a mystery, not a romance." Linden glared at her relative.

"Romance is the greatest mystery of all," Barnaby intoned. "Come on, tell me why the notion of being in love gets your back up?"

Lynne's lips thinned. "Being in love is one thing. I'm not used to the idea of being married. It's terribly permanent, you know."

"And?"

"We haven't even said anything like I love you to each other. That kinda has to come FIRST, you know. And, he hasn't said anything about marriage, except one joke that if I married him I'd have more grandkids than I could ever want. Considering the way he talks about his 'blasted relatives'- I don't think I want any of them."

"You're prickly. He's probably terrified of getting shot down if he says words like love or marriage."

"Him? Scared. Not likely." The doctor snorted inelegantly. "So, what are you saying? I'm supposed to make the first move? No way. It's not leap year, and I have no desire for Mama to strike me with lightening."

"Aunt Ruth could be scary, yeah. At least about - being proper," Barnaby admitted. "But, you don't have to be hostile. You could, in a ladylike way, indicate interest."

"Hmph. I don't see YOU running out to fall in love or get married." Lynne pointed an accusing finger at Barnaby. "Glass houses and so forth."

"I'm too- eccentric, and I could have a girlfriend back home. You don't know."

"Do you?"

"Well, no. I can barely get a secretary to work for me. But that's not the point. Is it because he's not alive? No, it can't be that. You've never mentioned dating anyone in all these years."

"I'm not DATING him, either," Lynne reminded. "How often do we have to say it?"

"Until you believe it," he muttered under his breath.

Slapping the table, she stared at the ceiling for a moment. "And, no. He's- more alive than a lot of ordinary guys. And, besides, I know that ghost/human romance works fine."

"You asked someone?" Barnaby probed.

Lips thinning, she nodded tersely. "Besides, it's pretty obvious that it does for those who've tried it."

"Is it survivor's guilt or something? Disloyalty issues? You feel like you need to mourn for the rest of forever?" Barnaby contined to question her.

"No. I've made my peace with that. Not long ago. I know, I should have way back, but I didn't."

"Did Dash have anything to do with your making peace?"

"No. Maybe. But, I needed to, anyway. Give it a rest, Barnaby."

"I just would like to see my favorite cousin happy, again," he sighed. "Is that so terrible?"

Pasting a faux grin on her face, Lynne pointed at her visage. "See? I'm happy." Barnaby just looked at her. "Okay, fine. IF Charlie says anything about love or marriage, I'll be - unhostile."

"I guess I can't ask for anything more."

"No, you can't. Now, the tree?"

"Nope. I'll see if Charlie will help you."

"No one's ever told you it's not wise to annoy women who use needles routinely, have they?"

XXX

The shoppers arrived home in varying degrees of shell shock. Siegfried declared that without a doubt that some form of contagious insanity must have afflicted the entire populace. No one was inclined to disagree.

Saturday was much quieter. After church on Sunday, the group met to celebrate Carolyn and Jess' birthdays at Jenny's house. Unfortunately, the celebration was cut a little short as Jonathan had to leave to head back to college, and Thom got tired earlier than he might have at one time.

Midmorning Monday, Blackie landed at Gull Cottage. "I beg refuge, Captain," the pastor sighed. "And a quiet corner to work on my sermon for next week."

"Is Barnaby getting on your nerves?" Carolyn lifted a brow.

"No. Claymore is. He's called every half hour to see if we've heard yet whether or not Barnaby is a millionaire. I'm going nuts. Oh, and I got a call from my older sister, Rowan. The letter Barnaby is supposed to have sent Aunt Lynne arrived at her house Saturday. I got a birthday card for her oldest child from him on the same day. The only problem is- the child's birthday is in March."

Daniel chuckled. "Someone should tell that misnamed botheration that he is tying up the line, making the publishers unable to get through, if and when they call Barnaby."

"That's a very good point," Blackie frowned. "Blast, why didn't I think of it?"

"Claymore can be- distracting," Carolyn comforted him.

"I would choose another word, but a lady is present, as is a member of the clergy," the ghost noted.

"I'd assign penance, but we don't do that in my church, and besides, you're right," Blackie grinned.

"It is a shame for a man to be run out of his own home," Daniel frowned. "I'll just pay Claymore a visit. As long as he bears that surname, he should live up to it. Greggs do not pester."

Carolyn bit her lip. She might not completely agree.

A pop later, Daniel was perched on the edge of his supposed nephew's desk.

"Aaaughulp," Claymore squeaked. Recovering his voice, the lanky man grimaced. "Darn it, I thought that by giving you that house - "

"My house," Daniel glared.

"I'd get some relief from these little visits. Well, I don't care. If something is leaking, broken, creaking, etcetera, it's YOUR problemo, not mine." Claymore lifted what little chin he had defiantly. "Unless, of course, you just insist, or threaten me. Then, I guess, I could consider ..."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Captain shook his head. "Claymore, Gull Cottage is in fine order. I am here on behalf of -"

"And Hampton's old cottage is not my concern either. I'm not making a dime off that place. I'm LOSING money, so forget it!"

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME! I'm here for Blackwood, you dithering dolt!" Daniel thundered. "I do not want you to DO anything. I want you to NOT do something. Cease making a pestilence of yourself and calling Barnaby and Blackie incessantly."

Pouting, Claymore protested, "But, sir, it's important! If Barnaby wins the money, then, he'll need to invest, maybe buy a house , and I want to get first shot at him! Like I said, I lost money on Gull Cottage, and on Sean and Molly's place. So, I need a new gig."

One brow lifted. "Exactly how much competition do you have in Schooner Bay?"

"Well, not that much, but it's the principle."

"Becoming an infernal botheration will not endear you to any potential client," Daniel pointed out. "Moreover, if you are ringing him up, then the publisher can not get through to give him any news."

Claymore's mouth was open to argue after the first sentence, but it closed abruptly when the second was uttered. "Oh. I never thought of that."

"Just so, Claymore."

"Okay. I won't call every five minutes," Claymore sighed. "I don't want you and Tristan sending phone cops after me."

"The phone cops were not real, Claymore," Daniel shook his head.

"I know, I know. But, still. You two can be scary, y'know?"

"Why, thank you, Claymore," Daniel beamed. "I think you are about to receive a call- now."

As he said "now," the phone rang.

"How did you - ?"

"Vibrations. Answer the contraption."

"Hello. Schooner Bay Realty- oh- oh. OH. Oh ho." He hung up. "That was Barnaby. He won! He won!"

"Calm down, Claymore. Your heart," Captain Gregg warned.

"Feels wonderful! I've got to gather my portfolio and get over -"

"Let the man have a moment's peace. Think about it, old boy. If you won a million dollars, would your decsion-making abilities be at their finest moments afterward?" the seaman counseled.

"Yes. I've dreamed of it so often, that I know exactly what I'd do," Claymore nodded.

"Somehow, I do not think Barnaby has. Why not give him a chance to catch his breath. He can more- effectively spend money when he's had a chance to think," Daniel said. "Now, sit down!"

XXX

Word spread quickly through the family that Barnaby had won the prize. Thus, at the end of the day, Blackie found his humble parsonage overflowing with his family coming over to congratulate the older man.

"You know, I could really start enjoying having my birthday come around every year," Jess grinned. "Something marvelous has happened both last year and this one."

"Last year's did start out quite dismally, though," Adam pointed out. "Thought I'd never see you again."

"And now, ya can't get rid of me."

"I called my parents," Carolyn said. "Mom and Dad wish they hadn't had to get home yesterday, but are very pleased for you."

"What do you plan to do with all that lovely money?" Claymore burst out.

Scratching his head, Barnaby shrugged. "Well, I guess now I can take off as long as I need to and get that book written."

"You need to invest it," Claymore declared. "Make it work for m- er- for you."

"Are you trying to play manager again, Claymore?" Martha asked.

"I'm just trying to help!"

"He does have a point, and I have thought about it," Barnaby interjected. "Adam, you ran Dashire's affairs for a good while, didn't you?"

The lawyer nodded.

"And may I say, very well," the nobleman pointed out. "He increased my funds considerably."

"Not without your help, sir," Adam half smiled. "I did learn a lot from you."

"I'd like one of you, either of you, to help me out like that," the professor said. "And, if you think it's a good idea ... "

"What?" Daniel prompted when his words trailed off.

"I heard you all talking about the Beacon being for sale. It's not much of a paper, granted, but it could be improved. Maybe increase how often it prints, have more relevant articles, and so on. It'd be an interesting project to take on, that is, if Carolyn and Dave would be willing to manage it? And, maybe Jenny, Sean, and Daniel do some of the writing?"

Grins bloomed around the room.

"Count me in," Dave said.

"Aye," Sean nodded.

"Of course," Jenny smiled.

"Me, too," Carolyn agreed.

Daniel's brow wrinkled. "Me, work at that rag? What a notion."

"You'd make it a non-rag," Candy suggested. "It'd be - fitting, somehow."

"After all, it was your writing that produced one of the most popular issues to ever run," Martha snickered.

Carolyn's lips twitched, and Dave started laughing so hard he couldn't talk.

"What?" Lynne demanded.

"Even after so much time, I still remember that issue," the young man gasped. "I was an early teen, and I heard my parents laughing their heads off, so I read the paper, something I generally avoided. Captain Gregg changed all the ads so that they were - hilarious."

"And truer," Ed drawled.

"I resent that," Claymore huffed. "I am NOT a fake, and it was a lovely cottage by a LAKE. Say, I do have some properties available ... "

"His business manager will get back to you on that," Adam cut in. "And, I do have the figures on what Mark wants for the paper. He's asking a bit much, but even if I can't talk him down, you'll still leave Dash and or me room to work some good investments."

"No worries on that score," Tristan noted. "You can probably talk him into giving the thing away. And if not, Sig'll help."

"Normally, I would take issue with being volunteered -"

"Payback. You 'volunteered' me to feed the pigs and chickens liberally," his brother snorted.

"However," Siegfried went on, "for a good cause, gladly."

"So, will ye be helpin' us, Danny?" Sean asked. "It has been a while since we've worked on the same- ship, so to speak."

"I would love it, my darling," Carolyn added her plea.

"We do need you, I'm pretty sure," Barnaby put in.

"Please?" Jenny said.

"With sugar," Candy wheedled.

Lifting a hand, Daniel said, "Sign me on, Barnaby." Suddenly, his eyes gleamed.

"What is that look, Captain?" Dash asked.

With a chuckle from deep within, Daniel said, "Oh, I just thought of something. Lucius Finley will roll in his grave at the idea of ME working at HIS paper. It's - delightful." He paused, then added, "However, you will have to wait a day or two." Turning his gaze to Carolyn, Daniel said, "I've a promise to keep."