It Happened One Christmas GAMM Partridge Family Cr

by Tabitha12

Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, one housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a MonkeyPuzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A GAMMPartridge Family Crossover.

2. Chapter 2

Title: It Happened One Christmas

Author: Mary

Rating: PG

Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, One housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a Monkey-Puzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A Ghost and Mrs. Muir/Partridge Family Crossover.

Part Two

December 23rd Mid afternoon

After a noisy, leisurely lunch (Martha made a triple batch of Red Flannel Hash) Carolyn checked again. The phones were still out. Shirley looked out the windows and sighed. It was still snowing, but the thermometer outside indicated the temperature had actually gone up by a couple of degrees. Martha mentioned that the radio announcer had said that the snow wasn't due to stop completely until the end of the day, at which point the temperature would drop again.

In spite of all the excitement, the children were getting a slight case of cabin fever already — hers, especially. Jonathan and Danny bundled up long enough to go outside to dump the trash for Martha. They came back in, maintaining the wind wasn't blowing nearly as much, and they wanted to go outside and play. After getting permission, the younger children, Candy, Jonathan, Danny, and Chris, bundled up and went outside to walk around. Shirley remembered to take some pictures of her children, wading hip deep in the snow, and, after a little prodding, Keith, Laurie, Shirley and Carolyn joined them for a brief snowball fight, Jonathan laughing the hardest when Danny managed to nail Keith with a face full of powder, much to Candy's embarrassment. Keith, to his credit, rebounded nicely, and after twenty minutes more, Martha called them inside — tempting them with hot cider and cocoa. There were a few parting shots, and the refs, Shirley and Carolyn, declared Keith, Laurie and Candy's team the winner. Muttering within the ranks about retaliation could be heard, and there was talk about another snowball fight and a chance to get even the next day.

Daniel watched the children play in the snow — wishing with all his might that he could join the merry group. In spite of his ghostly status, he, Candy, Jonathan and Carolyn, once in a great while, even Martha, had managed snowball fights the previous winters; one of the family usually playing ref and counting snowballs going THROUGH him as much of a hit as a wet snowball would be actually hitting one of the Muir family.

He checked the clock on the wall of the attic. Well, they would be in soon. As much as he liked these boarders, he just didn't see himself popping in and introducing himself, like he lived down the road a piece. A wistful feeling crept over him in spite of himself, and he thought of the little girl again. Tracy. Blast, that little one gets under your skin, he thought. I'd hate to see anything happen to anyone while they are aboard this vessel. She's a nice little thing. I didn't get to see Candy at that age. I wonder how she is doing? He had checked on her earlier . . . several times, actually. Once she had been sound asleep, and once she had been awake, but her mother had been with her, and Tracy had been saying something about him, he thought. He couldn't get too close, for fear of her seeing him again, and mentioning his presence to her mother. Mrs. Partridge already looked worried and there was no sense making things worse.

The third time he looked in, however, she was awake, fretful, coughing, and alone. Unable to resist her whimpers, he popped in with another glass of water, and adjusted the towel around her neck, still smelling heavily of the vapor rub they had smeared on her little chest, and they had another lovely talk — ending with him insisting gently she needed to get more rest. He had lulled her to sleep with a tale about how he had rescued a young native boy, "just around your age, my dear," from an alligator. "In Florida, it was. Eighteen fifty-nine, I believe. The lad's father was so grateful to me, I was permanently inducted into his tribe and made the boy's honorary uncle — with all the rights and privileges thereof."

Tracy finally dropped off, and, after pacing the attic for a while, Daniel admitted, if only to himself that he was lonely — bored, rather. He materialized in the living room, invisible to all, and listened to all the people on his 'ship,' picking up scraps of conversation. Candy and the other children were just finishing a game of Monopoly — Shirley and Carolyn even joining in on the fun. Danny had just finished raking everyone over the coals, and gloating. His siblings, used to his behavior with anything remotely concerning money, merely rolled their eyes and did their best to ignore him, but Jonathan made a comment that playing with Danny was like playing with Claymore, and that he really preferred Chinese Checkers.

That led to Carolyn and family telling the Partridges about the time their landlord had been stuck at Gull Cottage in traction for a month, one week. "And what was really ironic," said Carolyn, "is after a week of Martha's gourmet meals, and all of us catering to his every whim, I finally realized AFTER he left that while he could sue me, because anyone can sue anyone, he would most likely never collect a dime because he was my landlord and he owned the house where the faulty door lock was to begin with!"

"I know what you mean," Danny nodded. "Someone tried to sue us once too, when they realized we were in show business."

"Oddly enough, we won him over with kindness also!" said Laurie. "I wish all disagreements and wars could be solved that way, instead of with battles and protest marches and sit-ins. Think they ever will be?"

"That, my dear girl, is the age old question," commented the captain, invisibly.

"Loser puts the game away," said Danny, getting up and stretching. "You know, this house is really great, Aunt Carolyn, and the antiques are the most. You think your landlord knows what he has here? If he doesn't, don't tell him. You know, if you had an extra five hundred dollars, I could manage it for you. Invest it in the stock market. Why, in no time at all, I bet I could parlay it into a fortune and you could buy this place lock stock and barrel. And not only that, but . . ."

"Danny, stop," pleaded Shirley. "No get-rich-quick-schemes right now, please."

"Yeah," Keith commented, also getting up. "Sometimes, you're a real know-it-all — do you realize that?"

"I handle my allowance better that YOU do, Keith," Danny answered back swiftly.

"Have you ever heard the expression, If we had ham, we could have ham and eggs, if we had eggs?" Carolyn asked with a smile. "I appreciate the offer, Danny, but I don't happen to have an extra five-hundred dollars right now — especially as money I could afford to lose, and I doubt if Claymore would sell me the place anyway."

"You sound like mom," said Danny, "The ham and eggs thing. I hear that all the time from her. But I bet I could convince this landlord of yours."

"And, given the right opportunity, I bet I could too, Danny," the seaman said silently. "But I think it would be more interesting to see YOU have a go at the barnacle!"

Shrugging, Danny, Chris and Jonathan excused themselves to go upstairs and take a look at the models Jonathan had built. Laurie picked up her sketchbook; anxious to get back to the drawing she was working on of the Captain's portrait — Candy observing her. Laurie frowned. "I just can't get the perspective right, Candy," she said, frustrated. "He keeps coming out flat."

"That's 'cause you're drawing a drawing," Candy offered. "My art teacher said if you draw a figure, a person, even a pretend person, you have to think of them as real — believe they are a real person." Looking at the portrait, fondly, she added, "I didn't used to . . . think of the Captain as being real . . . or that he used to be real, I mean, but I do now." She stood up, walked toward the fireplace, stood on the stool that was there and touched the painting of the sea captain on the chin. "I mean, can't you just see him standing here, in front of this fireplace — building a fire, getting his hands warm, or maybe reading a book on the couch? He lived here for a long time, I think, before he died. He built this place. He's . . . His presence is all over this house. Just think about him living here. He's very alive to me, and when he comes alive for you, you will be able to draw him with no problem at all. I think Captain Gregg is cool. I can't imagine this house without him. He's part of what makes Gull Cottage a home for me."

Laurie Partridge's eyes lit up and she turned over a new page in her sketch pad — starting again. The seaman stared at the little girl, who had now stepped down from the stool and reached for a book. I'm real to her? He felt a prickle in his eyes, almost like tears, but of course such a thing was not possible. She's never called me real before . . . except a real ghost. When did her feelings change? Touched beyond speech, he moved himself first to where Keith was still scribbling away on his song, and then to where Shirley and Carolyn were now seated — drinking coffee.

"Looks like BOTH our daughters have a crush on that seaman of yours," Shirley grinned. "I must admit that he is one magnificent example of the male species! Ever wonder what the real man was like?"

Carolyn smiled. "Seaman of mine?" She nodded. "I've often wondered what kind of a person he would be if he were alive now — what he would do for a living, as a modern man, what kind of woman he would really want, what his children would be like . . ." She shook her head and wondered if Daniel was hearing anything of what was being said about him. "Speaking of crushes, remember Blair Thompson?"

"Blair?" Shirley started. "I haven't thought of him in ages. I do remember I had a horrid crush on him, though. When was that? About halfway through ninth grade? He never gave me the time of day and eventually, I got over him."

"About," Carolyn agreed.

"Mom!" Laurie said, and she and Candy looked up from Laurie's sketching. "You had a crush?"

"Naturally," Shirley laughed. "More than one! I used to fall into puppy love, too! Whatever happened to Blair?" Shirley asked.

"Oh, that I can tell you!" Carolyn smiled again. "I saw him, oh, maybe a year-and-a-half ago. I forgot — guess I didn't tell you, but we did date briefly in high school."

Candy turned to her mother in astonishment. "Mom! You DATED him? I thought you were just friends or something . . . yuck! He doesn't seem like your type at all!"

"I didn't MARRY him, Candy!" Carolyn explained patiently. "And that's what part of dating is about — to get to know people!"

"Nicely said, my dear! " The Captain nodded, still invisible to all eyes in the room.

"So what became of good old Blair?" Shirley asked. "Running his father's holdings, or something in Philly?"

Carolyn shrugged. "Actually, when I saw him last, he was still traveling around on his yacht, doing very little, or nothing at all. He did dock here for a day or two, and proposed to me every hour on the hour."

"MOMMY!" Candy interrupted again, and went over to her mother. "You never told me that!"

"I didn't tell you because I saw no reason to, Candy." Carolyn gave her daughter's short blonde hair a stroke. "I had no intention of accepting him."

"Why-ever not?" Laurie asked. "If he was a lost love or whatever . . ."

"Because Blair only wanted to marry me because I never wanted to marry him," Carolyn said. "The minute I told him I would marry him, which I never would have really done, I know better, he backed down."

"Men can be so strange," Laurie rolled her eyes and looked at Candy. "I guess we still have a few things left to figure out!"

"The story gets stranger still," Carolyn continued.

"What?" Shirley asked. "Did Blair come back and say he was ready to marry you after all?"

"Hardly," Carolyn giggled. "I got a letter from him about six months ago." The Captain raised his eyebrows and looked tense. "It seems he sold his yacht, and bought a sports car. Some really new kind . . . what was it? Not a Jaguar . . . A Trans-Am, I think . . . and he said he was thinking about going to New York and using his father's connections to break into acting."

"Blair?" Shirley chuckled. "I can't see it! That guy was a born sophisticate — even in ninth grade. Part of the reason I was temporarily smitten by him."

"Yes, Blair! He even said that he was taking voice and music lessons!"

Martha bustled into the room, picking up on the last of the conversation. "Mr. Thompson?" She chuckled. "Well, I might pay to see him as a one time novelty act . . . Broadway? Naa! Care to help me for a few minutes you two? Laurie? Candy?" She nodded in Carolyn and Shirley's direction. "Dinner should be ready shortly. I'll call when everything is on the table." She looked toward the kitchen. "I am incredibly grateful we do have power, even if we don't have telephone service." And with that comment, she made her way back toward the kitchen.

After Candy and Laurie had finished setting the kitchen table and an extra card table for supper, Martha left to put some laundry away upstairs, and Candy sat down at the kitchen table and watched Laurie start another sketch of the kitchen stove. When she asked Laurie "why the stove of all things?" Laurie replied briefly: "Still life — one of my road assignments for art class. I'm supposed to pick still life subjects besides bowls of fruit, and draw them."

"Oh," Candy replied.

"You look upset," Laurie commented, looking at the younger child again. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Sure there is. Has Danny been bothering you, or anything?"

Candy shook her head. "Oh, no, it's not Danny."

"What then?"

"Laurie, do you think Keith likes me?"

The second oldest Partridge sighed, choosing her words carefully. "What makes you think he might not?"

Candy bit her thumbnail and stared off into space. "I dunno — I guess, well, I was hoping he might. After I acted like such a doof this morning, I've been trying to make it better — not seem like such a drip. I brought him coffee, and cookies and stuff after he finished shoveling snow, and more while he's been working on his song, and . . ." She shrugged. "He's been nice, but I guess he can't forget I called him Martha. He really thinks I'm a creep, huh?"

"Naa," Laurie shook her head and put down her sketchpad. "Keith can be a pain sometimes, but I know he doesn't think you're a creep — I mean, you didn't know he'd be there in the kitchen. You made a perfectly natural mistake. Keith knows that."

"You think so? You think he likes me?"

"Of course he likes you. He told me he thinks you and Jonathan are great kids."

"Kids." A disappointed look came to Candy's china blue eyes. "Oh. Does Keith have a girlfriend?" she asked, bravely.

"Oh, yeah." She grinned. "I'm his sister, so you can't tell him this, but I always thought he was a fairly good looking guy, for being my brother, but now, because of our group and stuff, the girls won't leave him alone. They even call ME and ask what they can do to make Keith like them."

"I guess he'd never be interested in someone like me," Candy said, her voice even lower. " I bet he thinks I'm a baby. Blast. I did just turn ten!"

"Well, maybe you are a hair young for him — but cheer up. When you are twenty and he is twenty-six, a gap like that isn't big at all — it's just your timing that's off! Danny thinks you're cute, though."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard him tell Chris he thought you were, but then he said he would punch him if he said anything."

"Danny?" Candy made a face. "Uh, no offense, but, well . . ."

"Not your type, huh? Well, tastes change. My first boyfriend was someone I used to play mud pies with."

"Do you have a boyfriend now?" Candy asked, perking up. "Have you had a lot of boyfriends? Do they come and watch you sing?"

"No boyfriend at the moment!" Laurie smiled. "Lots? Well some, I wouldn't say LOTS — But three or four have come to see me sing — I can usually sneak them into the local concerts, backstage, or something. Keith does that with an occasional girlfriend too."

"You get to wear makeup." Candy continued. "My mom won't let me yet." She sighed. "It would make me look more grownup, I think. When did your mom let you start wearing makeup?" Her mind wandered back to the teen idol in the alcove. "Does Keith like makeup on girls he dates?"

Laurie smiled again. "Let's see. I think I was just a little older than you were when Mom let me start wearing lipstick — and then just for really special occasions. I think I was thirteen-and-a-half before she gave in on eye shadow, again for special occasions only, and in was only last year she said a little mascara would be all right. She still thinks I'm too young for foundation and stuff like that, and you know, she's right. My health teacher said it's better for teenagers to use as little makeup as possible because of all the problems we can have with our skin!"

"I know this guy who thought I was a boy once," Candy said, thinking of Mark Helmore. "You don't think I look like a boy, do you? I've been letting my hair grow. Last time I tried to wear makeup, it didn't turn out too well."

"Of course you don't look like a boy! Everyone needs to develop their own style, though," said Laurie. "You can't go by what your friends are doing! Tell you what . . ." the older girl thought for a moment. "Let's go ask your mom if I can show you a little bit about it — makeup, I mean."

"Really?" Candy looked pleased, and privately Laurie thought that the little girls' happy face was perfect as it was.

"Sure. And if your mom says yes, we can do it tonight, or tomorrow maybe." Laurie sniffed. "Right now though, I'd say Martha's meatloaf is just about done! Let's tell her, and then go see if Tracy is awake and feels like eating dinner."

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During supper, Shirley kept looking at her eldest son. It was obvious to her that Keith was nervous and distracted. At first she wondered if he was just preoccupied about the song he was writing that he seemed to have a mental block on, but finally when Carolyn glanced at the young man, also noticing Keith's attitude, and telegraphed her concern to Shirley, and his mother wordlessly indicated that she had had enough.

"Keith?" she said softly, "I think we'll try a new arrangement of April Love for that concert we have scheduled at the end of January."

"Sure, Mom." he answered, and stirred his coffee for the third time in as many minutes. "Sounds good."

"ARE YOU KIDDING?" Danny blurted out. "Mom!" He threw a balled up paper napkin at his brother, hitting him on the side of the head. Shirley gave Danny a frown, and he was instantly apologetic. "Sorry, Mom! Sorry, Aunt Carolyn! Keith! April Love? Sheesh! Pay attention, or we'll end up back in the garage!"

The missile from Danny seemed to bring Keith back to the present. "Mom, we can't sing that song — royalties, remember? That's why I write our songs. It's cheaper, and we get the record profits. That's how lots of—"

"Relax, Keith!" Shirley smiled. "I was only teasing!" She gave him a look. "I was just trying to get your attention. You're just not with us tonight. Anything wrong? Still working on that new song?"

Keith shrugged. "It's coming along okay. I have the tune; I'm just having trouble with the lyrics. Nothing wants to jibe," he paused and looked around the table, his eyes resting on Carolyn.

"Anything we can help with?" she asked. "I've never written any poetry, but . . ." her voice trailed off thinking of the song Daniel had written for her, and she hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Oh, no, that's all right." Keith helped himself to a bit more mashed potatoes. "I was just thinking about our instruments and things."

"I thought you got them all inside?" Candy asked from the 'children's table,' wishing she were at the adult one.

"We did," Keith answered. "And they all look okay, but I'd still like to test them, and I'm worried about us, too — staying in practice, I mean. As a group, we shouldn't let our voices get out of tune any more than we should have let our instruments stay in that freezing bus."

"You mean you want to practice here?" Carolyn asked.

"Right," he nodded. "I hate to be any more of an imposition than we have been already, but would it be all right if we set up our instruments and things in the living room and practiced there for a little while, tonight?"

"MOM!" Candy jumped out of her seat, knocking her chair over backwards. "Please?" She looked at Martha, seeking her approval also for what she had, in the past referred to as 'noise,' and then at Shirley. "You really mean it? You want to play here, in our house?"

"Hurray!" Jonathan interrupted. "Mom, can they? Chris has been telling me about his drums. I really want to see those. Please?"

"Well . . ." A doubtful look appeared on Carolyn's lovely face for a split second, and she wondered how Daniel would feel about 'modern music,' but erased itself as he appeared only to her eyes, nodding his head.

"As I believe I mentioned before, my dear, I am most curious to hear these people perform!" He gave her a resigned glance. "Yes, I know Candy has played her record over and over, but that's usually in her bedroom, more often than not, and I am afraid that after thirty-two playings in a single afternoon of . . . I Think I Love You, is it? . . . I have more or less learned to tune them out."

"We could skip hooking up a couple of amps, if you are concerned about the volume," Danny offered.

"Good idea," said Laurie. "Actually, we don't play that loud, for musicians that is, but in an older house like this, there's no sense taking a chance cracking the plaster, either."

"Please, Mom?" Candy begged.

Carolyn smiled. "Fine with me! To tell the truth, I've been sort of hoping you would sing here somewhere along the line, but I also realized you're on vacation — and a rather unplanned one at that. And since singing is your 'job,' so to speak, I didn't want to make any demands. It would be rather like someone walking up to a doctor or lawyer at a dinner party and asking for free advice." And she turned back to Shirley. "Do you need extension cords, or anything?"

"No, I don't think so," her friend responded. "Just tell us where you want us."

"Cool!" Her daughter's eyes sparkled. "May I be excused please?" Carolyn nodded, and the girl was off.

"Where's she going? Chris asked Jonathan, softly. They were still sitting at the card table, talking away like they had known each other all their lives.

"Probably wants to go get her tambourine, or something," Jonathan said wisely. "She always has it with her when she listens to you guys. Only time she doesn't if we are in the car and one of your songs comes on the radio."

"Girls do the strangest things," Chris agreed. "Laurie conducts music — you know, like an orchestra leader, when she thinks no one is looking, and Tracy is love with Bobby Sherman."

"Candy's always getting goofy over some boy," Jonathan agreed. "A few months ago it was this new kid at school, but lately it's been singers — including your brother!"

"You said it," agreed Chris. "Some of the girls that are crazy about Keith do some pretty strange things to try and meet him, too."

"Tracy . . ." A concerned look came to the seaman's face, and he disappeared. After taking a look inside the master cabin where he could see the little girl finally beginning to stir, he materialized at the door of Candy's bedroom, where she was coming out, with, as Jonathan had guessed, her tambourine.

"Hi, Captain!" Candy almost gave the seaman a hug, she was so excited, but she remembered just in time that it was impossible. "Did you hear? The Partridges are going to play for us!" She gave him a grateful look. "Thanks for not thundering, or anything."

"I'm looking forward to it," he smiled. "Candy, can you do me a big favor?"

"Sure, Captain!" she grinned. "You don't ask me THAT very often! What do you need? Do you want their autograph, or something?"

"No, my dear," he smiled. "But I did just check on Tracy. I believe she is awake, and grumpy, as we all get when we are sick, and I am sure she would appreciate the opportunity for a change of scene."

Candy nodded. "I understand, Captain. Being sick is no way to spend Christmas. I'd be grumpy too."

"Right," the seaman agreed, picking up on Candy's vernacular. "And I am sure Tracy would like to be with the rest of her family while they practice, even if she cannot practice herself." Candy nodded again, agreeably. "Now, I can't very well pop her downstairs to be with her family, but you can." He chuckled. "Could you go into your mother's room and see how she is doing and then take her back downstairs with you? That way she can get a little something to eat, and I'm sure Mrs. Partridge would appreciate your help."

"Sure, Captain — I'll take care of her!" Candy turned and headed toward the master bedroom, but then she turned back around and faced the seaman. "I think it's too bad though."

Daniel looked surprised. "That you have to take care of her?"

Candy shook her head. "No, Captain! That you can't pop downstairs with her! I bet the Partridges would love to meet you! Laurie especially. I sure wish you could! I'd love to show off the REAL you!" And with that remark, she reached the door of the master cabin, and had opened it, and a few minutes later, Daniel watched as the two girls made their way downstairs to the living room.

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In practically no time at all, Shirley had managed to get some more buttered toast and a bit of meatloaf down Tracy — this last accomplished because Carolyn allowed her the added treat of eating in the living room. That and more ginger-ale seemed to perk the child up a little, but Daniel heard Shirley whisper to Carolyn that she was still concerned about the child's temperature — that while it was not near danger level, especially for children, it hadn't gone down any either.

Now the entire crew was in the living room — either setting up instruments or watching them being set up, which was almost as interesting. Tracy was still awake, but a little dopey, and curled up with Carolyn under the afghan on the couch. Candy was seated on the other side of the couch and Jonathan on the floor in front. Scruffy, sensing something important, hadn't tried to play with the instrument cords, but instead had placed himself at Carolyn's feet, near Jonathan.

"You probably won't get quite the full effect of our sound here," Shirley was saying. "Candy, don't be too surprised if we sound different than your record. Studio recordings are different than live recordings and even 'live' sounds different on a record than sitting in a auditorium, or in this case a living room does."

"Are you kidding, Mrs. . . . Shirley? I can't believe you really want me to call you that!" Candy answered. "I know you'll sound wonderful! The only drag about this whole thing is I can't call anybody and let them know you are STAYING here!"

"Always nice to be welcome!" Shirley grinned and then looked at her younger daughter, curled up with Carolyn. "And of course, I'm missing Tracy's tambourine already!" She glanced at the one Candy was holding. "You know, once we get cooking here, you are more than welcome to play yours, Candy. Laurie says you practice to our records, and really, we're used to it. We've done a few concerts at hospitals for the sick kids, and we always do a number or two where the kids can 'play' along with us."

Candy turned red. "Oh, I couldn't possibly!" And she placed the tambourine on her lap, clasping her hands over it. "I'm just used to holding it when I listen to you guys. I'm not that good."

Shirley didn't press. "Well, feel free to play if you want to. I'm sure you would be fine!"

"I think you would do splendidly, my dear," came the invisible voice of Captain Gregg in Candy's ear, and to the unsuspecting eye, she turned a pretty pink for no reason at all.

Martha watched the musicians from her chair as they continued setting up their instruments, now adding a couple of small speakers. "We did have an entertainer stay overnight here once before."

"Oh really? Who?" Keith asked. "Just curious. I thought we were your first."

"He was a fairly new singer — just starting out." Carolyn answered. "I'm afraid I am, or haven't been up until now, a frequent listener of the top forty stations," she said, apologetically. "A fact I plan to try and remedy in the future. But I did think he had a nice voice. His name was Tim Seagirt. He played one I just loved." She smiled a reminiscent smile.

"Thank-you . . . Carolyn." The seaman's voice came again, not making the 'doggerel' comment about the words he had written as he usually did.

"You're kidding . . . Tim?" Keith grinned. "We played a double bill with him in LA about a month ago. He pulls in a large audience. Great guy! You really DON'T listen to rock stations, do you? Tim's had THREE songs in the top forty! Without Her, Everybody's Talkin, but my favorite so far is If Only — " Keith strummed a few bars of the song Carolyn loved. "I remember he told me he only wrote the music for that one — normally he writes both, like I do. But in that case, he said he found the words somewhere, but I never did find out WHERE. Wish I could, though. I loved them . . . absolutely haunting! And so sad! I've never forgotten them. I hope someday I can write words that are as deep and loving as those are."

Carolyn flushed — thinking of the day she first heard them, and what Daniel said: You'll be hearing the young man's voice . . . but my thoughts . . ."

"Carolyn?" Shirley's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Are you all right? Your face is turning red."

"Me?" Carolyn jumped. "Oh, I'm fine — just a little warm, I guess." Hastily, Carolyn adjusted the afghan so more of it fell on Tracy.

"No need to blush, my dear, although it does become you!" came Captain Gregg's silky voice, as he appeared beside her. "No worries, dear lady. No one can hear or see me, except you, at the moment."

Carolyn looked away, suddenly shy, but there was a soft smile on her face, and Tracy, cuddling with Carolyn, gave the Captain a small wave hello, which no one noticed except the seaman, who waved back.

Waiting for her brothers to finish setting up, Laurie stared up at the portrait of Captain Gregg. "I wonder what HE would think of all us?" she wondered aloud. " I've heard that actors and show-business types weren't nearly as well received a hundred years ago as they are now! I think it would be groovy to be able to play something for him in HIS time! Like this, maybe . . . " Laurie flipped a switch on her keyboard, and struck a chord, and suddenly the sound changed from a piano to a harpsichord. "There, that's better," Laurie murmured. "Of course," she added, "I think he would appreciate me more in a long lace dress, but maybe he could learn to live with blue jeans!" Carefully, she started playing an old-English sounding version of I Saw Three Ships — transposing the key signature for each verse.

"My word!" The Captain applauded softly, "It's been ages since I heard that!"

"Mrs. Muir . . . " Martha leaned over from her chair and whispered. "Are you sure none of these kids can hear or see the Captain? Laurie couldn't please that old sea dog more if she knew he was here!"

"Martha . . . " the housekeeper suddenly heard the Captain's voice in her ear, and she realized he was there, next to her, and near Tracy and Carolyn. "I AM pleased. Laurie is playing it beautifully, and no, I am quite sure the young lady cannot hear or see me! It is nice to know that SOME people still have respect for the older generation, however!"

Laurie finished the piece and bowed when Carolyn, Shirley, Candy and Jonathan, Chris and Tracy applauded — brothers Danny and Keith joining in. "Nice," said Keith, now leaning over his sister's shoulder. "And no sheet music, either! I keep forgetting you know how to play stuff like that."

"It's the atmosphere," said Laurie. "The tune seems to belong here."

"No truer words spoken," the Captain chuckled. "More accurate than you can ever know, my dear!"

"Well, I don't think you, 'Miss Liberated Woman' would take well to living in the eighteen sixties," Keith argued. "Not much in the way of women's rights back then!"

Laurie punched her brother. "With that sea captain around, I could force myself to get along without them."

"As I have said before, dear lady, you see what a treasure you have in me?" said Daniel to Carolyn, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Only as much as you have in ME!" Carolyn whispered back.

"Quite so, my dear!" the seaman grinned. "Quite so!"

"Knock it off, you two," Shirley smiled, speaking to Laurie and Keith. She tapped the side of her music stand. "If we're going to practice, let's get started."

Tracy, cuddled closer to Carolyn, but then looked directly toward Daniel Gregg. "I hope you like our music, Captain!" she said sadly. "I wish you could see me play, but mommy said I need to stay with Carolyn and stay warm."

"It's quite all right, little one." The Captain looked at her soberly. "I'm sure you play the tambourine beautifully." Satisfied, Tracy turned her attention back toward her family.

Carolyn and Martha turned a sideways glance toward the seaman. "Tracy can still SEE you?" Carolyn whispered.

"Aye, my dear," The seaman shrugged. "I am not MAKING myself visible to her, but it seems she can see me whenever I make myself visible to any other humans — as in right now, with you and Martha. She saw me earlier today when I was passing through the master cabin, as well. I think it has to do with her fever. I'm not quite sure. I think what is MOST important, however, is she isn't afraid of me. Not one iota." Carolyn caught the trace of a relieved look on the specter's face. "Isn't that so, Tracy?" and he put his finger to his lips, reminding, the little girl again of their 'secret.' "Ah. I think the Partridges are ready to start."

And start they did — With a Christmas medley from the concert tour they had just finished. Early on, Keith, who seemed to be the director, as well as the lead singer, did make a few stops, commenting that the pace was either too fast or too slow, and once to say that Danny's bass guitar sounded flat (it was). He stopped again to ask his mother who was singing lead soprano and filling in for Tracy, if she could switch tambourines, as the timbre of the one she was using seemed off, and once more to adjust the speakers — this last when he saw that the mast of one of the Captain's model ships in the living room was vibrating.

"Oops," he commented. "Sorry — we have to do this at home, too. Every time we come home from the road and go back to practicing in the garage."

Candy giggled. "You'd have LOTS of fun singing here! You could be as loud as you want. We're two miles from town, and there's nobody around here, except us, and I know I won't complain!"

"You and the kids really live out here all alone?" Shirley asked, "With no one for miles around?" She shuddered, a bit.

Carolyn glanced at Captain Gregg. "Well — it's not really lonely," and she smiled "We did have a neighbor fairly close at one time, but Mr. Hampton moved a little while back. "He did find it rather lonesome."

"And good riddance to the pill-popper," the Captain said, briefly. Looking back toward the Partridge family, who was busy discussing their next set, "They're a bit loud, but they seemed to have fixed the problem, and I like their 'sound,' as Candy says," the Captain invisibly commented to Carolyn. "I especially like that tune that Keith said he wrote..." He smiled. "It really does sound like a verse you'd expect to find on a Christmas card, and the tune is quite catchy." He popped over to Keith's music stand and then back to where he had been standing a moment earlier. "I see the young man wrote that piece — although not the other Christmas songs, of course! I've had a delightful time. I certainly hope you can talk them into playing again before they leave."

"Well, you've fixed the problem," Carolyn said to Keith for Daniel's benefit. "And I really liked the one you soloed, Shirley — The Christmas Song is one of my favorites."

"All your songs were great," said Martha. "Thank you so much for sharing them with us."

"Looks like your musical instruments and equipment stood up to the cold well," Carolyn added, and she started to stand.

"Where are you going?" Shirley asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," Keith added. "The rehearsing driving you nuts already?"

"You aren't done?" Carolyn asked, "I thought . . ."

"Oh, no!" Shirley laughed. "Our rehearsals usually last at least forty five minutes — normally more like an hour, although I DO need to get Tracy tucked in . . ."

"I'm not ready for bed yet, Tracy whimpered. "I've been in bed all day and the only fun I've had is when the Ca . . ."

Daniel moved himself from beside the couch to right in front of Tracy. Shaking his head, he winked, mouthing: "Our secret, remember?" And Tracy covered herself. " . . . when I saw I saw a cat peeking in the balcony window."

"A CAT?" Martha scratched her head and settled herself back in her chair. "I've never seen any cats around here."

"It wasn't really a cat," Tracy murmured. "Maybe I had a dream." Thinking it wise to get off the subject as quickly as possible, she added, "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Shirley responded.

"Can you start with a soft song?" Her large brown eyes stared up her mother.

"A Christmas one?"

"No, just a soft song," Tracy answered.

"Why?" Shirley asked, puzzled. Usually her daughter liked the more upbeat numbers they performed — mostly because it meant more tambourines.

"Oh, I just think a soft song might be nice for a change."

Shirley shook her head. "Ballad it is . . . Keith, how about Only a Moment?"

"Fine with me . . ." her son answered, also looking a bit bewildered. "Upbeat ones are better to really get the blood circulating, though."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Might as well humor her, Keith."

"Okay," Keith shrugged. "One, two, one, two three . . ."

Only A Moment Ago might not be one to set the circulation stirring, but no one could deny it was lovely. 4

As the music began to swell and Shirley, Laurie and Danny came in with the second stanza, Tracy whispered: "Do you like the song?"

Carolyn turned leaned down and kissed Tracy on the top of her head. "Very much, sweetheart."

Tracy shrugged and tipped her head backward to look at Carolyn. "Oh, I'm glad, but I meant the Captain!" she whispered, looking up, and now over — directly at the spirit of Gull Cottage.

"I like the song very much, Tracy," the seaman nodded solemnly.

"Good!" She whispered again. "I know you'd want a quiet one first!" Tracy turned back to face her family and the music continued into the second verse.

As they finished, the happy audience burst into wild applause, and the Partridges were off and running, singing another five songs in rapid succession — beginning with their most recent crowd pleaser On The Road, followed by Candy's favorite, I Think I Love You, To Be Lovers, I'll Leave Myself A Little Time, and I Can Feel Your Heartbeat, At first Daniel raised his eyes slightly at the louder thumps of Danny's bass guitar and Chris's drums, at the opening of Heartbeat, but by the end of the song, he was just as "into it" as the rest of his 'crew.' Carolyn glanced down at the seaman's feet and grinned — his feet were tapping as much as the kid's were.

From the 'stage,' Keith and Laurie watched Candy as she subconsciously tapped the tambourine in her lap in perfect rhythm to the music. She had been doing it since the first part of the first song they had played, and privately, Laurie wondered if Candy was going to really break loose and let go by the end of Heartbeat. The two siblings glanced at the little girl and then at each other. She's only had it for a month and never a lesson? Her inborn talent was remarkable. Laurie signaled he brother not to say anything, and they finished the song. From what they could tell, Candy did really feel their music.

The group stopped at that point, and everyone, including the Captain, applauded again — Candy and Jonathan adding whistles, and Scruffy barked madly, wanting to make sure his approval was noted too. Keith signaled the group 'five minutes,' with his hand, and the Partridges headed for the ice water that Martha had thoughtfully placed on the coffee table.

Jonathan moaned. "You're finished? Blast! Seems like you just got started!"

Candy's eyes clouded over. "Yeah . . ." she looked at Keith, and then at Shirley and Laurie, trying to hide her disappointment. "I'm sorry! We shouldn't ask for more. You've sung a LOT! Tim only sang one song — two if you count the song we snuck downstairs and listened to . . ." She threw a hand over her mouth. "Oops."

"'Oops' is right, but I figured that out ages ago!" Carolyn grinned, coming up behind them, tousling their blonde heads. "Remember?"

"Thanks, Mom!" they chorused.

Keith grinned. "You want more?"

"Sure!" Candy and Jonathan's faces brightened.

"Well good, he answered. "Because we've just been reviewing the old stuff, so far."

"Old?" Candy said. "The album only came out a MONTH ago!"

"True," said Shirley, coming up to where the four were standing. "But remember, we sang those tracks over and over again when we made the album . . . they're old hat to us. We're also rehearsing songs for our NEXT album. I think Keith thought you might like to hear some of our new ones too." Shirley turned and studied Tracy, who had started to cough, and she realized how tired and hot the little girl looked suddenly. "Sorry, kids . . ." and she went over to her little girl. "We need to call it quits for tonight. Tracy needs to get to bed. And you know we can't play after she's asleep — we'll wake her up."

"And you all are probably still tired from your late night last night and today — settling in, and all that," Carolyn added before her two children started moaning. "You need to get some more rest. Hard to believe that tomorrow is Christmas Eve!" She gave her children a wink. "You know how Santa Claus feels about mutineers!"

"Not to mention sea captains!" Jonathan laughed.

"Sea captains?" Shirley asked, thinking about Tracy's rambling on the subject.

"Just our joke," Candy giggled. "You know! Captain Gregg!" She saluted the Captain's portrait, and her mother, and Jonathan following her example. "He ran a taut ship! "No mutinies tonight, Mom!" Candy added. She gave her mother and then Shirley a hug. "This has been super! Thank you so much! We can stop for now . . . Laurie was going to show me how to put makeup on, anyway, remember?" Grabbing her tambourine she looked around and found her new friend. "Laurie! Can we do makeup now?" and she was off.

"Not me!" said Jonathan, making a face. "Chris and I are going to go work on knot-tying." Giving his mother a hug, he was gone also.

"Looks like it's just you and me after we get Tracy down for the night, Carolyn!" Shirley smiled, and her friend shrugged.

"Oh, I imagine we can find something to keep us occupied," Carolyn grinned.

"I'll start another pot of coffee," said Martha. "I can't see you two going to bed for another hour or so, at least!"

The Captain watched as the group dispersed and wondered idly what he would do with the rest of his evening. Sea charts perhaps . . . of course it was high time to catch up his logs. Certainly enough had happened the last day or so. Dematerializing, he heard Martha comment that it was a shame that the Partridge Family hadn't been available that previous March when they were raising money for the seamen's home.

"Think what kind of money we could have raised if THEY had been doing the entertaining!" Martha said. "Can you imagine? And it would have been a much better show!"

Tugging his ear thoughtfully, Daniel Gregg disappeared.

December 23rd – Midnight

"Mommy . . ." Tracy's plaintive voice came from the cot where she had been alternately sleeping and waking for the past three hours. "Mommy, I'm thirsty . . ." Shirley moaned, and Carolyn stirred from her side of the bed.

"I'm awake, Shirley." Carolyn answered her friend's groan. "Right with you."

"Thanks," Shirley said softly, reaching for her robe. "Darn fevers! I would love to know what law it is that says that colds and fevers always seem to get worse the later in the evening it gets — blasted things!"

"Blasted?" Carolyn smiled. Where had THAT word come from . . . ? As if she didn't know!

"Definitely blasted. Chris has been using that word practically since he got here. I seem to have picked it up."

"I'm afraid he got it from Jonathan," Carolyn shrugged. "Sorry about that."

"There are worse words," Shirley smiled. "Come on, Tracey, honey . . ." She picked up her child and carried her over to the divan. "Carolyn, if you don't mind, can you bring me a cool washcloth? Maybe if I sponge her down again, she'll feel better."

"Of course," Carolyn nodded. Carolyn stayed handy while Shirley did just that, and after ten minutes or so of 'mommy treatment,' Tracy finally stopped fussing, and started to relax again. She straightened the covers on the little girl's cot while Shirley cuddled Tracy on her lap, Carolyn's afghan covering them, and sang Tracy a lullaby. It took twice through all the verses of Hush, Little Baby for Tracy's eyes to close, but Shirley kept humming — murmuring to Carolyn that her daughter was famous for falling asleep, and then waking with a start five minutes later, thus starting the nighttime process all over again.

Carolyn nodded. "Candy did the same thing." She looked around the dimly lit room and pointed toward the cot. "I threw on a fresh sheet, too. Is there anything else I can get for you as long as I'm up?"

"Maybe some more ice water . . . if you don't mind, Carrie." Shirley whispered, and continued to hum softly into her daughter's ear. "I just need to keep this up for a little longer. Then we can all get back to sleep."

Carolyn left the room for the water, and when she returned, not only was Tracy asleep, but from the looks of things, Shirley too. Now wide awake again, and not wishing to disturb Shirley or Tracy, Carolyn put down the new pitcher of ice water on the night stand and headed for the kitchen. A cup of tea would hit the spot, at the moment.

She tiptoed down to the kitchen again, quietly, not wishing to bother Keith, sound asleep on the living room couch, and wondered where Daniel was. She sighed. Seeing Shirley again and meeting her family, and hearing the group sing had been fun, but at the same time the last day and a half had not been quite what she planned as a part of her Christmas. Especially disconcerting was the fact that, with the blasted blizzard, it wasn't even like she could make the excuse of going for a walk and have a chance to talk to Daniel alone that way. Carolyn was hoping that somehow that afternoon she would have had a chance to sneak away to the wheelhouse . . . attic, but time and circumstances just hadn't allowed it. Ah well, Daniel HAD shown up for the singing earlier, and hadn't raised an eyebrow — even at the more 'upbeat' songs the family had performed.

As she opened the door of the kitchen, she started to reach for the light switch, but stopped. There was a candle burning on the kitchen table and she could see the gas flame burning brightly under the kettle on the stove.

"The light won't be necessary, my dear," the Captain said softly. "You might wake Keith. Your tea should be ready in a few minutes." He indicated the two cups on the table. "May I join you?"

"Please, Captain!" Carolyn smiled, "I can't think of anyone I would rather share a late night 'cuppa' with!"

The Captain smiled and pulled out her chair, watching her as she sat down. "And I, you, my dear!"

The teakettle began its slight chirp, indicating the water was about to boil and the seaman lifted it, taking it over to the table and pouring the water into the china teapot he had placed there, then he replaced the kettle on the stove.

"You look lovely by candlelight, Carolyn . . ." he began.

"Carrie?" a voice came from the kitchen doorway.

"Blast!" said the Captain, but he did not vanish, merely rose from his chair and stood next to the sink. Carolyn glanced at the seaman, but realized immediately that he wasn't really angry with Shirley, just at the circumstances.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Shirley Partridge asked, puzzled, gesturing at the two cups on the table.

"Oh, no" Carolyn gave her friend a smile, hiding her disappointment at her conversation with the Captain ending prematurely. "I figured you would be down in a few minutes."

"I didn't mean to drop off like that," Shirley grinned, reaching for the other chair. "I think Tracy will stay asleep the rest of the night now." She smiled. "I woke up and saw that you'd left, and figured you might have come down here, and thought I'd join you. You're awake now, too?"

"I'll be shoving off, Madam," the spectre said. "You need to talk to . . ."

"Don't go . . ." Carolyn said, without thinking. "I'd really like you to stay."

Startled, the Captain nodded, signaling he would do as she asked, and, as his habit, he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"I was . . . going to," said Shirley. "Unless you . . ."

"Oh, well, you looked a little startled . . . like . . . never mind. Sit down, please," Carolyn asked, pouring the newly brewed tea into the cups.

The two old friends sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes. Finally Shirley spoke. "Carrie . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Don't you think this whole situation is . . . I don't know . . . strange?"

"Strange?" Carolyn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, that we should meet after such a long time, and yet . . ."

"Yet, what, Shirl?"

Shirley scratched her head, and stirred her tea again, although it really didn't need stirring at all. "Oh, that we should both have been widowed, have children, and somehow, have managed to keep things afloat in such a creative manner — me with the group, and the singing, and all that and you with your writing . . ." Her voice trailed off and she snapped her fingers, and then slapped the side of her head. "Hey! I HAVE read one of your stories! It was about eight months ago. I was getting my hair done. Maiden Voyage, right? You wrote that, didn't you?"

"Closer to a year and a half — you must have been looking at an old magazine, but, yes, that was me . . . us, I should say!" Carolyn grinned, looking at the Captain, who was laughing, unheard, naturally, by Shirley. Will I never live that story down? she thought, then nodded to her friend. "My one and only collaboration with another writer. It was really more HIS story than mine. Not really my style at all. I did get the pipes replaced with that little gem, though," she defended herself.

"I remember looking for the author's name . . . Muir . . . of course it didn't ring any bells at the time . . . I thought I might look for other stories you had written, and well, other things sort of ended up taking priority." Shirley added.

"Other things being . . . your husband's death?" Carolyn asked quietly.

"Yes," she nodded, and sighed softly. "Jack. I . . . in some ways I haven't had a chance to talk about it much with friends of mine. Women, especially. It's the oddest thing, but I think other women look at me and feel guilty because they still have a husband. I'm a reminder that the same thing could happen to them. But I need to talk. This is still my year of 'firsts,' and while becoming a "musical sensation" — Variety's words, not mine," she laughed shortly. "Has been time consuming and distracting, and, yes, fun, not to mention financially beneficial, it still doesn't take away from the fact that Jack died eight months ago, and I . . ."

" . . . Still miss him? Want him with you?" Carolyn asked softly. "There's nothing unusual in that."

Shirley shook her head. "No Carrie. It's the other way around. I'll try to keep this short. It's late. I probably shouldn't even be getting into all this."

"It is indeed, my dear," The Captain nodded from his corner. "But I do believe Mrs. Partridge needs to talk to a good friend, and you, Carolyn, ARE that. I, on the other hand, should go."

"Please, stay." Carolyn said, rising, supposedly to put the tea kettle back on, but actually to get closer to the seaman, who was looking uncomfortable. "I can't think of anyone who needs to be here more. Don't leave."

Surprised, the seaman nodded, and watched as Carolyn returned to the table.

"Thanks, Carrie," said Shirley, giving her friend a grateful look.

"Shirley, what is it?" Carolyn prodded gently, and the other blonde shrugged and ran her hands through her hair.

"Okay. I need to back up a bit, here. You know we moved that summer before I started high school..."

"How could I forget?" Carolyn gave a wry smile. "I was miserable for ages about you moving away."

"I met Chuck two days after school started, and he was my main boyfriend through all three years of high school," Shirley continued. "We dated others in our sophomore and junior years, but went steady as seniors — even acted opposite each other in the senior class play."

"I thought your husband's name was Jack," Carolyn said, puzzled.

"It is . . . was," said Shirley. "There's more. Chuck took early graduation, enlisted in the Navy and shipped out shortly after."

"Oh . . ." Carolyn murmured. "You must have been devastated."

"I was!" Shirley smiled. "But then Jack came along. We had dated as juniors, sort of, but I didn't find him nearly as charming as Chuck at the time, but after Chuck was gone, suddenly Jack was back in the picture . . . and fascinating. He was captain of the basketball team, the debate team, and was lusted after by every girl in school, and well, to make a long story short, we dated no one but each other for about six months, decided we were madly in love and couldn't wait, and in August, two months after graduation, we eloped to Maryland, and I gave birth to Keith in April of 1954."

"Well . . ." Carolyn hedged. "So far you sound like you were happy."

"We were . . ." Shirley agreed, "For a long time, despite our impetuous, early marriage. Our parents helped us out occasionally, Jack went to work for his father, and made enough money so that I didn't have to work, except sometimes a little part time stuff here and there around Christmas. Then I had Laurie — went back to school, part time, then gave birth to Danny, Chris, and finally, Tracy."

"I don't quite understand," Carolyn said, going to the stove for the teakettle, which was now beginning to boil again.

"Things just started to go downhill." Shirley answered. "I just don't know how else to say it. Jack developed a drinking problem . . . too much client entertaining, I guess. He did that a lot working for his father. It got to the point he was traveling on the road more than he was home, the kids practically never saw him and neither did I, and when he was home he seemed angry and frustrated, and he even said, more than once, that he regretted marrying so young. I knew it was just a matter of time before Jack would decide that divorce was what he wanted. I wasn't even sure how much I cared at that point. We didn't have very much left in common by then, except for the kids."

"The cad," the Captain exploded. "Five children! How dare he do such a thing?"

"Shirley!" Carolyn finished pouring the hot water into the teapot, brought the kettle back over to the stove, and returned to the kitchen table, where she sat down, and glanced at Daniel's scowling face. "You said he died, what . . ."

"Yes." She grasped her friend's hand tightly. "He did. A car accident. The police said that there was definitely alcohol involved. One car, thank God. If he had to go, I can only be thankful he didn't take anyone else with him."

"Oh, Shirley!" The tears were falling down Carolyn's cheeks. "How awful! When was this, exactly?"

"April fifth, of this year — seven days before Keith's birthday."

"No wonder your feelings are so . . . mixed," Carolyn squeezed her friend's hand. "Do . . . Uhm, do the kids know what really happened?"

Shirley nodded. "Laurie and Keith do. And Danny, I think, maybe, although he hasn't mentioned it to me. Kids are smart, you know. Keith and Laurie weren't even that surprised. Chris and Tracy just think it was a car accident. I do plan on telling them some day, naturally, but . . ."

"But you need to figure out your feelings in the matter before inflicting how you feel on them?"

Shirley nodded again. "Exactly." She sighed. "I didn't mean to get into all this. I guess I wanted to tell you because I know you've been widowed longer, and I was just wondering how long it takes before you — well, you know, get used to being without a husband and re-living the moment you found out about his death, but your circumstances are different, and . . ."

"Not THAT different," Carolyn said, her voice low.

Daniel Gregg's eyebrows shot up about an inch. "Madam?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Carolyn sighed and, as far as Shirley could see, looked off into space for a moment, but actually she was looking at the Captain, and he knew she was speaking to him. "You need to know, now." And quickly she turned back to her old friend. "After all . . ." she quickly added. "You told me your story."

Shirley nodded. "I'm sorry. Are you sure you aren't tired?"

"Oh, no." Carolyn smiled. "I'm wide awake." Taking another swallow of her tea, she began. "Robert and I met in college at the beginning of my senior year, and married in 1958 — when I was finishing up grad school. My parents were thrilled that I had 'found someone' and were planning a big fussy wedding." She smiled. "Oddly enough, we eloped by running off to Maryland too. We thought it would be more romantic . . . and neither of us really wanted a big wedding anyway."

"Were you happy?" Shirley asked, curious. She blushed. "Sorry, stupid question, I guess."

"I was. We were." Carolyn answered. "But now, looking back on it, I know now we had problems right from the beginning. Robert went to work for his father. Sales work, oddly enough, like Jack, but more office stuff — statistics, pounding out numbers, paperwork, that sort of thing. You'd have to know Ralph, my father-in-law, but he's the no-nonsense type . . . what he said went, and he doesn't take a lot of input from anyone else well." Shirley nodded. "And Robert was his father's son," Carolyn continued. "He liked things done a certain way too. He had very definite ideas of what a wife 'should be' and didn't want me working. I was trying to be a good wife, and do what a good wife was expected to do, and well, even though I would have rather worked for a while first, I stayed at home, did the housewife thing, although I did manage to do a little freelance writing. Then I became pregnant and gave birth to Candy in November of nineteen-sixty."

"He must have been thrilled," Shirley interjected.

"Oh, he was," Carolyn shrugged, "Robert even decided on her name . . . Candace Marie, for his two grandmothers, but he did tell me the day we got home from the hospital how disappointed he was that she wasn't a son . . . that his father had been counting on a boy, and how much he had too, and how having a girl as the eldest child went against four generations of Muirs . . . as if I could send her back, or something."

"Carolyn!" Daniel rammed his fist into the palm of his other hand, and for a moment, Carolyn thought she heard the crack of thunder. "Why . . . ?"

"That's awful," said Shirley, with a choked sound in her voice. "If Jack had ever said that, I would have left and there never would have been Laurie, Danny, Chris or Tracy."

"He apologized right after," Carolyn said, "and for a while, things went fairly smoothly. Candy was beautiful and she really was his pride and joy. I was happy too — I still wasn't working, I mean at a job, but I was doing some more freelance stuff along the way, we had hired Martha part time, and things seemed to be going well, and then I found out I was pregnant again."

"Jonathan?" Shirley asked, and Carolyn nodded.

"I wasn't quite sure how Robert was going to take it. Even though the home front was smooth on the surface, there was some underlying tension I couldn't put my finger on. I just felt like there was a little something missing. Robert had never been one to come home and talk about his day, or ask my opinion about things going on around the office, so I knew better than to ask. I just kind of chalked it up to work issues, or disagreements with his father about the way he was doing his job, and thought it would be better if I kept my nose out of his work affairs."

"I would," Shirley nodded. "Very fine line there to cross over, and I know Jack never seemed to understand that even though I didn't know about everything going on in the office, that sometimes a fresh perspective can do wonders."

"Anyway," Carolyn continued. "Robert seemed happy about my pregnancy, but his behavior, and the tension, went on until after Jonathan was born in November of nineteen-sixty-two." She smiled. "Things were better for a bit because Jonathan WAS a boy, although we did get into a huge argument right after he was born because I wanted to name him Jonathan, after my favorite uncle, and Robert wanted him to be Robert Junior, but that time I stuck to my guns and insisted that I wanted my uncle's name, and since he had the final say-so with Candy, it was my turn." She sighed. "Robert finally agreed, but after that things seemed to get worse." There was another crack of thunder and Shirley jumped up and peered out the kitchen windows into the blackness.

"You get the strangest weather up here," she said, peering out the window again. "I've heard of rain over snow, but never thunder, especially when it's still snowing." Carolyn threw Daniel a look, the thunder stopped, and Shirley returned to the kitchen table. "So . . . what happened, Carrie? With Robert, I mean?"

"We . . . well, he . . . we . . ."

Shirley put her hand over her friend's. "Carrie, what happened?"

"Just about the time Jonathan was three, and Candy five, our fights started escalating." Carolyn shrugged. "It seemed like anything could set them off — something I did, something his father had said or done that day, about his parent's interference, especially concerning 'their' grandchildren. We had a huge fight the day I said maybe things would be smoother if we could hire Martha as a live-in and I could go back to work. Then, about a month after that, he . . ."

Shirley held her breath and let it out slowly. "What, Carrie? He didn't HIT you, did he?"

For a split second, the Captain's image shifted and Carolyn could have sworn he looked more solid than ethereal. "Oh, no! Nothing like that," Carolyn protested. "That was one thing Robert would never do. He did his fighting more with words, and actions, but not physical, like hitting. No. I found out that he was having an affair."

There was a quick intake of breath from Captain Gregg, but Shirley only nodded. "Figures — " and she gave her friend's hand another squeeze.

"I remember I found out on a Monday," Carolyn continued. "Robert was out of town on business. A letter from his girlfriend came to the house. It was pink, engraved stationery, heavily scented, and addressed to me. It was worded very carefully, but the gist of it was that she and Robert had been lovers for more than a year, and that she was tired of the secrets, and that they wanted to marry, but it was only his 'love for his children' that kept him from asking me for a divorce — that, and the 'scandal' it would create, but that if I filed instead, things would be better for all concerned."

"What an outrageous, thing to do!" the Captain exploded, "Of all the . . ."

Shirley shook her head. "Sounds as if the girlfriend was just about at the end of her rope too. It's ironic, really, Carrie. Men accuse women of being deceiving, and devious, but I think we're much more straightforward than they give us credit for."

Carolyn nodded her head in agreement. "Everything I had ever felt for Robert died in that instant I think, but I wanted to wait to talk to him. So I did . . . all week. He came home from his business trip that Friday."

"Did you confront . . . the scoundrel?" the Captain asked from his corner, wishing he could have taken care of the matter himself.

"What did you do?" Shirley asked, simultaneously.

"Robert got home about seven-thirty that evening," Carolyn recalled. "The kids were already in bed, of course, and I realized he had been with his girlfriend before he bothered coming home." She made a face.

"Did he try to deny it?" her friend asked.

"No. Actually, to give him his due, he mentioned it before I could,"

"Did he say he wanted a divorce?"

"Exactly the opposite!" Carolyn said. "He said that Cheryl — that was the name of his girlfriend, had no right to write that letter, and no, he didn't want a divorce, that the scandal would be detrimental to his reputation, his parent's reputation, to his career, and he wouldn't dream of 'his children' being raised in a broken home."

"I'd say it was fairly broken already," the seaman commented, darkly.

"He didn't say he was giving up Cheryl, either," Carolyn recalled. "We fought back and forth for at least another half hour, and then I heard Jonathan crying — the shouting had awakened him, which just seemed to upset Robert even further! He made some comment that our life would be entirely different if we didn't have 'everyone else' interfering . . . his resentment of Jonathan interrupting our fight was clear, but I think maybe he was talking about his father, too. Anyway, he stormed out, saying he was going to go down to the corner store and buy cigarettes. When he wasn't back in a half an hour, I started to worry, and then I figured he had decided to go back to see his girlfriend. I waited for a while longer, and no Robert. I was just about to say the heck with it and go to bed when a knock came at the door. It was the police."

Shirley bit her lower lip. "Carrie what happened? Was he in a car acc . . . ?" Carolyn shook her head.

"No — even more bizarre than that. He walked straight into an armed robbery at the drugstore. He was shot . . . and had died almost instantly. That was April fifth, nineteen sixty-five."

Carolyn watched the Captain as he moved toward her and stood as close to her as he dared. The gesture was comforting.

"Oh, Carrie!" Shirley gasped. "How awful! And I do see what you mean about how our lives have been running a parallel line — April fifth — that was the same day Jack died!"

"I know." Carolyn gave a wry smile. "But five years earlier. I thought it was ironic."

"I'd call it just plain weird," Shirley commented. "So, when . . . and how, did you end up in Maine?"

Carolyn drew a long breath in and exhaled. "It took me about two and a half years to get things together. I worked as a filler on a small newspaper in Philly, and got more experience in writing — all that had kind of been sidelined after I married Robert. My boss said I had a real talent for feature and independent writing and he encouraged me, and my parents helped me out financially, so we didn't starve. It took over a year for them to catch and convict the man who had killed Robert. I remember walking out of the courtroom saying: 'Now, I'm free,' going to the drug store nearest the courthouse, getting a cup of coffee, and starting to look at real estate ads. I don't know what made me think of looking at ones in the Maine area, but I did."

"You always did like sea stories, and sailing and things like that," said Shirley. "I even remember you saying once you wanted a house on the beach. It doesn't surprise me a bit."

"Anyway, I found Claymore's ad," Carolyn continued. "It took a little time for me to convince my parents and Robert's parents that I needed to make a fresh start, and that I could really support 'their grandchildren,' but I did. I sold everything except our clothes, and some of the kid's toys, and my typewriter, as Gull Cottage came furnished, and convinced Martha to make the move with us. In spite of her occasional grumbles, I was fairly sure she would."

Shirley nodded again. "She's great. The kids love her."

"Anyway, now I'm here and I love it and I don't think anyone or anything could make me leave. Coming here to Gull Cottage was the smartest thing I have ever done." Carolyn looked past her friend for a moment and directly into the Captain's blue eyes, now gazing steadily into her green ones.

"You look happy, Carrie."

"I am, Shirl, more than I can ever say. All of us are, I think. All five of us."

"I've never been happier than the day you came into my life, dear lady," the Captain said gruffly.

Shirley blinked. "Five?"

"Oh, four, of us, I mean, of course. Five, if Scruffy could talk and let me know for sure!" Carolyn covered herself, and looked at the clock. "Shirley, it's almost one-thirty. We need to get some rest." She put her hand on her old friend's arm. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me about Jack."

Shirley nodded. "Likewise. That's what good friends do. Thank YOU for trusting ME."

"And me, my dear Carolyn," the seaman added, and he dematerialized, leaving the two women alone in the kitchen.

Arm in arm, Carolyn and Shirley headed for the stairs.

December 24th – Christmas Eve Morning

Carolyn and Shirley woke the next morning at eight-thirty to the sound of excited children's voices in the hallway, and they both groaned . . . Morning already! Shirley glanced at Tracy, still slumbering on her cot. Well, at least that was a good sign. Throwing on her robe, she reached over to feel the little girl's forehead. Blast. Still entirely too warm for comfort. Grabbing her robe also, Carolyn made her way to the bedroom door. Outside stood Jonathan, Danny, Chris, Candy and Keith.

"Hey, Carolyn!" Keith peered over her shoulder to where his mother was carefully adjusting Tracy's covers, which had become twisted around her legs during the night. "Mom! Guess what?"

"Shh!" his mother warned. "Don't you DARE wake your sister up!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "We just wanted to tell you that . . ."

"It's stopped snowing," said Danny, stealing his brother's thunder.

"And the sun's out," Chris added.

"I was going to tell her!" Keith hissed.

"That's great, wonderful!" said Carolyn softly, but adding urgently: "You can tell us more when we get downstairs, okay?"

"Okay," they all agreed, moving away from the door.

Carolyn eyed the apologetic children. Who was missing? Oh, yes, Laurie.

"Where's your sister, Keith?" she asked. "Still sleeping?"

"No. She's downstairs, helping Martha."

"Good — thanks for waking us up and letting us know, now why don't you all go downstairs and see if there is anything else you can do to help?"

"On our way," said Danny.

"Right," his brother added. "Maybe after breakfast we'll see what we can do about shoveling the walk again. It looks like all the drifting snow pretty well covered what we tried to do yesterday."

Carolyn went to the closet and started getting dressed. "Don't rush it, Shirl," She turned around to face her friend, seeing that Tracy was starting to wake up. "I'll get moving here and then send Laurie upstairs with more toast and ginger-ale for Tracy. Then you can re-Vick's her, and cuddle her down in the big bed where she can stay nice and warm." Hurriedly, she slipped into a pair of black slacks and a black turtleneck, and a pair of tennis shoes and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Carrie," said Shirley. "Bet you had no idea what you were in for two days ago!"

"Don't mention it!" was the last thing Shirley heard as Carolyn closed the bedroom door behind her.

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Shirley Partridge entered the kitchen about fifteen minutes later. The kitchen was filled with happy noises and general conversation. Danny, Jonathan and Chris were politely arguing over the merits of basketball over baseball over football, Candy was talking with Laurie about their makeup lesson the night before — Candy asking how long it took before you could apply makeup right without it taking the hour and a half they spent the previous evening. Martha was watching the pancakes so they didn't burn, Keith was scribbling on a pad of paper and Carolyn was helping Martha — refilling juice and milk glasses and rinsing sticky pancake plates.

"How's Tracy?" Laurie inquired, standing up and giving her mother her seat.

"Back in bed," Shirley nodded. "I got her to eat some more toast, and drink a little ginger-ale. She's not as fussy as I thought she'd be, considering how restless she was last night, but . . ."

"What, Mom?" Laurie asked. "You look worried."

"I don't know," Shirley shook her head again. "As she was waking up earlier, she was sort of talking in her sleep, and said she wanted the 'Angel Captain' to tell her a story. Then when I tried to get her to tell me what she was talking about, she looked surprised, then she didn't say anything for a second, and then said she had a nice DREAM about a Captain." Behind Shirley, Carolyn and Martha turned away hurriedly, faced the stove and stuck rags in their mouths, blocking their giggles.

"Angel Captain?" Danny asked. "Weird. That's a new one. Normally Trace dreams about flying ballerinas when she's sick."

"I can't believe the day has come where ANYONE would refer Daniel Gregg as an angel!" Martha whispered, recovering herself. "Rogue, charmer, delightfully devious, charmingly distracting, maybe, but an ANGEL?"

Grinning, Carolyn elbowed her housekeeper in the ribs, grabbed a new stack of pancakes, and returned to the table. "I'm . . . sure she'll be all right, Shirley." She soothed her friend, thinking of a certain sea captain she knew that was, no doubt, even at this moment, upstairs hovering over the sleeping child. Touching, how obviously fond of her he had become in such a short time.

"I suppose so," Shirley sighed. "I know people can have really interesting dreams when they're sick. Some people even think that dreams have a healing effect."

Carolyn nodded, thinking of what she privately called her "Ague Dream," and how much she wished it could have lasted even one more minute. Blast Margaret Coburn for fainting anyway.

"I am a little worried though. We're running low on aspirin," Shirley added.

"Why don't you give Tracy Willow Bark Golden Elixir?" Jonathan piped up from the children's table.

Chris made a face. "Never heard of it! What is it?"

"Alfalfa, foxgloves, willow bark, parsley, sage, thyme . . ."

"That sounds disgusting," Danny interrupted.

"And a shot of brandy . . . that's what puts the keel under it!" Jonathan added, pleased with himself. Carolyn shot him a "You know the rules, Jonathan," look, and the boy received an even stranger look from Shirley. Aided by a silent kick from Candy, Jonathan got the message immediately. "Oh, yeah, we can't," he said hurriedly. "The garden is covered in snow."

"The things kids pick up on television!" Carolyn said.

"But . . ." Shirley began, but was cut off by the sound of the ringing telephone.

Hallelujah. The phone lines were up!

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By eleven-thirty, the activity around Gull Cottage had doubled. With a minimum amount of difficulty, Shirley Partridge had managed to place several long distance calls — the first of course being to her parents, in Philly. She explained the situation briefly, and told her parents that she and the kids would be on their way to Philadelphia as soon as possible, given the closed roads and the broken bus. While disappointed at the prospect of not having their only daughter and grandchildren with them for Christmas, they were most relieved at the news that everyone was safe and sound, and delighted that Shirley had bumped into Carrie Williams again. Then they asked for the telephone number of Carolyn's parents — saying now that they were both back in the same state, they just had to get together.

After that call was completed, Shirley, remembering the time difference between Maine and all points west, finished her breakfast before calling the group's manager, Reuben Kinkaid, still in Arizona, to inform him of their unplanned layover. Reuben, too, was happy to hear that his favorite clients were safe and sound. As Laurie had pointed out, there was little he could do about their situation from where he was, but he had been touched and pleased that they had called, and had asked Shirley to call him back the next day with a progress report.

Last but not least, Shirley was able to place a call to her children's pediatrician, Doctor Griffith, in California. Sighing, the doctor had explained that Tracy's 'bug' was all over the city — and that he would have been more surprised if Shirley's children had escaped unscathed. When Shirley mentioned Tracy's fever and her mumbling about seeing an angel, the doctor said not to worry — that it was probably just a combination of Tracy's fever and her vivid imagination and to just humor the little girl.

"Tracy's angel will go away when her fever drops," he added. Then Shirley gave him the telephone number for the local druggist in Schooner Bay — where he would phone in the prescription.

While Shirley had been busy on the telephone, the Partridge and Muir children, all but Tracy, of course, started on a few chores of their own. Danny and Candy helping Martha clean up the kitchen first, and then they joined Keith, Laurie and Chris outside, where they were making slow but steady progress clearing the porch, flagstone pathway, and front path of Gull Cottage of snow.

Her last call completed, Shirley begged a fresh cup of coffee from Martha and made her way back into the living room where Carolyn was busy folding the last of a load of towels.

"So, what's the verdict, Shirl?" Carolyn asked, seeing the frown on her friend's features. "Something tells me we aren't out of the woods on everything just yet!"

"No, not quite yet, and to be honest, I'm not quite sure WHAT I can do at this point!" Shirley answered. "I just talked to your druggist, Mr. Crough. He said that he can get Tracy's prescription almost immediately, but — "

"But what?"

"But he can't deliver it here!" Shirley paused, biting her lower lip, a sure sign, Carolyn remembered, how upset her friend was. "You know, because of the roads . . . Schooner Bay is only two miles away, I understand, but the road is all hilly, and not that well-traveled, and still blocked by snow, which means we can't drive into town either, even if the bus was okay, which it's not." Taking another swallow of her coffee, she continued. "The druggist said he has a small snow plow, and will try to get through, but he won't promise anything." Shirley's green-eyed gaze met that of her friends. "What can we do now?"

"That's simple," Keith said, coming into the living room from where he had been outside, shoveling off the last of the front porch. "Just let me get into some dry clothes, and I'll go." He put an arm around his mother's shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

Shirley shook her head. "No way, Keith. Carolyn says it's a two-mile walk into town."

"I've taken hikes that long before!" Keith protested.

"Yes, but not in the snow, and there are three foot drifts out there," his mother answered back.

"I've been working with those drifts for the last two hours, Mom."

"Yes . . . in the front yard of a house where you can keep coming back inside and get warm if you need to."

"So I'll put on an extra pair of socks."

"You could get lost, Keith."

"Mom!"

"I could go with Keith, Mom, and make sure he stays on the right road," said Jonathan, who had just come inside with Danny.

This time both Carolyn and Shirley shook their heads. "No can do, Jonathan," Shirley smiled at the eight-year-old, who was trying so hard to help. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. You both could get lost, and besides, it's cold out there. My doctor says lots of children have picked up this bug Tracy has, and I would feel terrible if you came down with anything because of us."

"Blast," said Danny. "I don't suppose you would consider letting me go with Keith?"

"Nope." Shirley shook her head again. "Same answer, same reason. One sick child is quite enough. The way the five of you pass colds and flu around, we wouldn't be through running the gamut on this thing until the end of next month, and we have concerts scheduled the last two weekends in January, remember?"

Danny nodded. "I forgot those, Mom. I'm sorry. It was just an idea."

"I know you meant well, sweetheart!" Shirley gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"So what CAN we do about this?" Keith paced. "We have to do SOMEthing."

"For the time being, I'm afraid that's nothing," Shirley said, resignedly.

"We've waited this long, I guess we'll just have to wait a little longer." Carolyn agreed. "Maybe Mr. Crough will get through, and this discussion will be moot. In the meantime, let's finish up what needs to be finished up around here, and see what we can do to help Martha get ready for lunch, all right?"

"All right," Keith agreed, heading for the door. "Danny, Jonathan . . . we need to finish that front walk. I can't believe how heavy snow gets!" he added. "Let's get busy."

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Tracy Partridge peeked out the window of the master bedroom and watched her brothers and sister and the Muir children. They sure looked like they were having fun! Life was so unfair at times! Aggravated and bored, she turned and made her way back to the bed. She shouldn't have left it to begin with. Mommy said she could get cold, and maybe she was right. Her feet were freezing. Frustrated, she thumped her pillow, trying to get comfortable.

"Tracy, you'll get well much faster if you stay in bed, keep warm, and rest," a kind but firm voice said.

"Hi, Captain!" Tracy answered immediately, and scooted herself down further under the heavy quilt. "Watcha doing?"

"Visiting with you," he answered quietly.

"You just got here," the little girl said reasonably. "I meant before."

"Oh, not that much . . ." he responded, knowing instinctively that telling a bored, sick little girl about things she couldn't do wouldn't be a good idea. "Just a little paperwork."

"You mean, like homework?" the little girl asked, mystified. "My brothers and sisters have homework, and I will too, when I start first grade next year."

"Sort of," he grinned in spite of himself. "But no one tells me what . . . Uhm . . . homework I have to do." Sitting on the end of the bed, he continued. "I have my sea charts, of course, that are constantly in need of revisions, and naturally I keep a ship's log of . . ."

"What's that?"

"A log? Well, it's a diary, I guess you could say of what happens to me and my family every day."

"Oh, like a journal!" Tracy grinned. "Keith and Laurie have journals. Danny tried to read Laurie's once and got in a lot of trouble."

"As well he should have!" the seaman grinned back. "Journals are very private things."

"But, why do you write in them if no one can read them?" Tracy wondered.

"I write in them because . . . well . . . because it gives me a way to express my thoughts and feelings in a way that just trying to speak the words can't, I suppose," said the Captain thoughtfully.

"That's what Laurie says," Tracy said, nodding her head. "I bet you know some great stories, though."

"I've been told I do," Daniel answered. "Tracy, would you like me to tell you a story?"

Her eyes brightened. "That would be wonderful! Do you know any stories about animals?"

"Indeed I do!" the seaman grinned. "Would you like me to tell you the story about the time I rescued a ship's cat and her seven kittens?"

"Oh, YES please!" Tracy cried sitting up and clapping her hands.

"Very well then. Now, you just tuck yourself back in bed and I'll begin . . . Let me see now. It was the winter of 1841. My crew and I were on our way back from Madagascar, and we encountered a storm so wild and fierce that . . ."

Twenty minutes later, Daniel adjusted the covers over the now-sleeping child, and dematerialized — reappearing in front of Claymore Gregg.

"Gaaa! What are you doing here?" Claymore dropped the stack of files he was moving from his desk to his filing cabinet. "Now, look what you made me do! It's Christmas Eve, for Pete's sake! Why don't you go haunt someone else? Can't I have just one or two days a year when . . . ?"

Daniel Gregg waved his hand, and Claymore watched as the folders righted themselves — it was rather like watching a film running in reverse, he thought. In two shakes, the files were inserted where they belonged, followed by the rest of the folders on Claymore's desk.

"Seymour Van Gundy is best filed under 'V,' not 'G'," the seaman commented, taking the aforementioned file and moving it from one drawer to another. "The way you handle your paperwork is atrocious."

"I'm sure you didn't pop into my office just to berate my filing system, Spooky. Besides, I've been busy," Claymore snapped. "You know — I have the Christmas tree lot to manage this time of year, and I've been playing Santa at Ollie Wilkins general store."

The seaman shook his head. "A more unlikely casting I have never heard of."

Claymore saw the gleam in the Captain's eye. "Look. It's one-thirty in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. Aren't I entitled to a little peace and quiet? What do you want, anyway? I have things to do. I'm busy."

"You will be busier, if I have anything to do about it," the seaman growled. "And believe me, I do. Claymore, you are going to do me a favor . . . " Quickly, the spirit told his supposed nephew about what had transpired in the last forty-eight hours — the late night arrival of the Partridge family at Gull Cottage, the broken axle, the discovery that the two women knew each other, and, most important, Tracy, and their desperate need for the prescription now standing ready at the Schooner Bay drugstore. A little invisible investigation the seaman had done before arriving at Claymore's office had determined with almost certainty that the road to Gull Cottage wouldn't begin to be passable by automobile for at least one more day. "And I want YOU to deliver the medicine to Mrs. Partridge," he finished.

"WALK? No way!" Claymore whined. "It's two miles! Why should I go out in the cold on Christmas Eve? Just because they are a popular singing group, that's no reason I need to put myself out!"

"Claymore, have you no heart at all?"

"I have a heart! I believe I proved that last Christmas when I took care of Slugger — you remember — the baby I almost adopted?"

"Correction, my dear fellow. You didn't adopt him, or even take care of him. You found him and brought him to Carolyn Muir — she provided the infant with shelter and proper care until his parents were located."

"My heart was in the right place! Anyway, why should I kill myself just because these people are a current 'in-group' for kids?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Claymore."

"Because they're important? Well, my comfort is important to me."

"Actually, I'm surprised you even know who the Partridges are."

"Ollie Wilkins has been playing their record at the drugstore. Lots of kids have been buying it."

"Claymore, you are going to deliver that medicine."

"It's cold out there."

"You have a coat, and gloves, and snowshoes. And you've traveled the road before."

"You made me jog home that night . . . LATE. It was September, and warm, I might add, not December, following a major blizzard, and, yeah, I had to walk back and get my car the next day, but . . ."

"I don't want any more arguments. It's a mercy mission, you idiot. For the little girl. For Tracy."

"Why me?" Claymore whined. "You're here already. Why don't you get the medicine and get it to the kid?"

"Dolt. Just how do you think I am going to get it and pay for it? And how do you think Mrs. Muir will explain it arriving? Santa Claus and his sleigh, perhaps?"

"Oh, yeah . . ." The miser of Schooner Bay looked at the spirit thoughtfully. "Well, what's in it for me?"

"You not getting nailed to the nearest mizzen mast, that's what, Claymore, and believe me, I will figure out a way to do it."

"Oh . . ." Claymore considered this option.

"So which will it be? Make the trip out to Gull Cottage and pay a few dollars for the medication and face a few hours of slight discomfort or look forward to eternal torment for the rest of your natural life from me?" There was a pause. "Well?" the Captain demanded.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" Claymore answered. His voice was petulant.

"And not only that, just in case you are thinking of charging the medicine to Mrs. Muir, as you did the items for the baby last year, forget it. Do you understand? You can afford it! No arguments! If you don't do this, Claymore, I will haunt you till the end of your days and make your life so miserable that . . ."

"I still don't understand. Why me? All I can see I am going to get out of this is a bill at the drugstore and frozen feet," Claymore protested, and the Captain could see that Claymore was beginning to cave in.

Daniel Gregg gave Claymore a sly smile, ready to expose the final card in his hand. "Well, Claymore, I may be able to give you at least one more incentive for you to be chivalrous and do this for Mrs. Muir and for the Partridge family. You see, my dear fellow, I have this idea . . ."

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Claymore pounded on the door of Gull Cottage — an hour and forty-five minutes later — cold and tired, but invigorated. The trip hadn't been nearly as difficult as he had dreaded, once he got moving. Traveling on foot, he had been able to weave his way around the mountainous drifts, and Captain Gregg had even popped in on him several times, checking on his progress . . . in a prodding, yet almost worried way. When Claymore had thanked the spirit for his concern, the Captain had replied, blustering, that he was merely making sure that his supposed nephew was alive and well, as he had no interest in the man joining him in his eternal state just yet.

At his insistent knocking, Carolyn headed for the door — Shirley following close behind.

"Claymore!" Carolyn cried, opening the door and staring at her landlord in surprise. She peered past him. His ancient car was nowhere in sight. "Where did you come from? How did you get here? What are you doing here?"

Claymore stepped into the foyer and began to stamp the snow off his boots on the mat Martha had placed there. "Burrr! My goodness, it's cold out there!" He turned to Shirley. "Hello, hello! You must be Shirley Partridge! You can call me C.G. . . . "

"C.G.?" Shirley asked, blankly.

"Claymore Gregg. I'm Mrs. Muir's landlord. I just got word you had been stranded here, and in need of help — Cap . . ."

The Captain appeared, glaring. "Not me, you simpleton, Mrs. Muir!"

"Oh, I er — Well, Mrs. Muir wanted it to be a secret about you being . . . but well, she called me, and told me about your little girl . . . and I offered . . . that is . . . well, here." Digging into his coat pocket, Claymore fished out the prescription he had picked up at the druggist's and handed it to Shirley, and the Captain disappeared again.

Nonplused, Shirley looked at the bag, opened it, pulled out the prescription bottle with Tracy's name on it, and a smile broke out over her face. "You brought Tracy her medicine? How can I EVER thank you!" Impulsively, she kissed her benefactor on the cheek and made a run toward the stairs.

"Martha?" Carolyn called. "Claymore's just landed! Where is everyone?"

"Keith is in the alcove, working on his song, Laurie and Candy are upstairs in her room, Danny, Chris and Jonathan are, I think, in his room — reading comic books. Hi, Claymore!" she added, "I'm surprised to see you here! Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Brandy would be better, just to warm my blood a little, but I suppose it's too early yet," the lanky man sighed. "Coffee would be fine, thanks."

"Can you round up the kids, Martha?" Carolyn added. "They need to come down here and meet Claymore. He came out here, on foot, no less, with Tracy's medicine. Wasn't that nice of him?"

"Nice? More like a miracle, I'd say!" Turning, the housekeeper started upstairs to collect the children, remembering not to shout, least she disturb Tracy. "Guess I should put something 'special' in his coffee after all!"

"It really was sweet of you to bring Tracy's medicine all the way out here, Claymore," Carolyn said as they started toward the living room.

"Well, old Blast and Bother made me do it . . ." Claymore responded, removing his coat and hanging on the coat rack.

"Watch it, Claymore . . ." The seaman appeared again, looking cross.

"How did the Captain do that?" Carolyn asked.

"Well, part of it you don't want to know, but, well, remember I told you a long time ago, that wild horses couldn't drag me out here, but money can?"

"Money? What money?" Carolyn asked suspiciously. "I should have known. What are you up to?"

"Well, Captain Gregg popped into town, told me about the kid . . ."

"Her name is Tracy, Claymore."

"Tracy, and he gave me this idea . . ."

"What idea?"

"I'll tell you in a minute . . ." Claymore stopped and looked around.

"Tell us what?" Shirley Partridge asked, coming into the living room — her four children, Candy, Jonathan and Martha following close behind with a coffee tray.

"Oh, just this idea I had." Claymore seated himself comfortably on the sofa.

"My idea, Claymore!" the Captain said invisibly.

"Did I hear you mention the word money?" Danny asked, his eyes narrowed, and he peered at Claymore from his seat next to him on the couch, then turned to his mother. "Mom, in Mr. Kinkaid's absence, I'm manager of this group, and therefore in charge of all money matters, and I . . ."

"Hush, Danny," Shirley said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Let's just listen to Mr. Gregg's idea."

"Mr. Gregg sure doesn't look like the Captain in the portrait," Laurie whispered to Candy. "Are you sure they're related?" They were standing by the fireplace, and unbeknownst to the two girls, the seaman was standing, invisibly, right next to them.

"Claymore says they are, but you're right, they sure DON'T look alike!" Candy whispered back. "And the Captain definitely doesn't act anything like the jellyfish either," The little girl added, in a voice so low almost no one else could hear it, but the seaman smiled.

"Well then . . ." Claymore said, looking important. "Here's my . . . the idea. Mrs. Muir told me about your bus and all and well . . ." He fidgeted. "We want you to give a Christmas concert here in Schooner Bay. We can hold it in our little theater. I heard your tour included Keystone, but, well, that's twenty miles away, and I know for a fact that there were kids in town here that have gladly gone to see it there, but the bad weather stopped them, and I know their parents would have gone too, and, well, a concert would be great for Schooner Bay. We have more than five-hundred people living here in town and the surrounding area and between children and parents, I can almost guarantee you a full house."

"Us, give a concert?" Danny asked. "I don't get it. What exactly do we get out of it?"

Keith shook his head. "I have to ask the same question, Mr. Gregg. I mean, if everyone in Schooner Bay is as nice as Carolyn, Martha, Candy and Jonathan, I don't mind performing, but, well, what exactly is the point?"

"Well, if you'll give me a chance to finish . . ." Claymore sniffed. "The Cap . . . That is, I think, and the city council agrees, that if you do this concert, and charge, maybe seven – eight – even ten bucks a head, we can kind of split the profits . . . Schooner Bay gets 40 percent of the take, you get thirty-five, AND your bus towed into town and fixed for free. I get the remainder — as sort of an agent's fee for coming up with the idea to begin with."

The Partridges turned and looked at each other. Logically, the idea made sense.

"Well . . ." Shirley said, drawing the word out. "When would you want to have the concert?"

"The twenty-sixth — day after Christmas," Claymore said briskly, sensing he had a deal. "Tomorrow is Christmas Day, and we can't possibly get the roads cleared until after that, and we still need to get the bus into town the day after the Christmas to be fixed, and you, and your instruments, to the theater, too." He rubbed his hands together. "Now what do you say? Do we have a bargain?"

"Where are you going to get a new axle that will fit their school bus on such short notice, Claymore?" Martha asked, trying to find a flaw in the plan. "I mean, it's not exactly like fixing a flat tire."

"From the town's old school bus," Claymore answered immediately. "You know . . . the one at the grammar school? The engine was shot, and we had to get a new one only six months after we bought the fire engine?" Martha nodded. "Well, the old bus has been sitting at the back of Abner's garage, and I've spoken to him — you know, he's on the city council, too, and he is almost certain that the axle from the old school bus will fit the Partridge's bus and if it doesn't, he knows how to make the adjustments."

"I see . . ." said Shirley, slowly. "And you say your town council has already agreed to this idea?"

"Absolutely." Claymore nodded again. "In fact, Deke Tuttle told me that he tried to see what was involved in booking you and your family here to begin with, but he could never get through to your agent. Then when he finally did, it was too late, and your concert schedule was full. Face it, Mrs. Partridge, Mrs. Muir. This is fate! Serendipity! Now what do you say? Isn't this a perfect idea? Everybody wins! You, the town, me . . ."

"Wait a minute!" Danny cried. "Forty percent for the town, 35 percent for us . . . that makes an agent's commission of 25 percent for you!"

"Don't I get something extra for hiking two miles in all this snow?" Claymore whined.

"No," said Carolyn, flatly.

"Claymore, you briny bilge-rat!" the Captain growled, making Candy jump and Laurie wonder what the problem was. "How dare you try to change the terms! I told you, 45 percent for the town 40 percent for the Partridges and 15 percent for you!"

"Standard agent's fee is 15 percent, Mr. Gregg," Danny jumped in again. "Unless you know something that Variety and the Wall Street Journal don't — not to mention Dun and Bradstreet."

"What do you know about Dun and Bradstreet?" Claymore asked. "You the acting agent for this group, or something?"

"Yeah," Danny answered. "And for your information, I have a lifetime subscription to the Wall Street Journal and Business Weekly. Do you?"

"Claymore, don't even answer the lad," the Captain grinned. "I'll tell you now that you'll never keep up with him. He'll be running circles around you in no time."

"We're getting off the subject here," Shirley said, looking impatient. "I have no problem at all with the idea of doing a show, since one way or another we will be here another forty-eight hours because of the bus and the roads anyway, but your terms are unacceptable."

"What terms WOULD you deem acceptable?" Claymore asked, nervously thinking of the news of the Partridges' arrival traveling and the possible show traveling all over town already. Darn, I shouldn't have jumped the gun and called the town council until the arrangements with the Partridges could be finalized.

"How about 15 percent for you, 40 percent for us, 40 percent for the town, and 5 percent for Carolyn?" Laurie asked. "After all, she's had to put up with us camping all over her house for the last few days."

"Not 'putting up with' at all, Laurie." Carolyn smiled. "It's been a pleasure."

"Very sweet of Laurie to offer, however," the Captain interjected.

"I'd rather see that extra 5 percent go to the seamen's home," said Carolyn. "As a Christmas gift. They need it."

"Make that 10 percent," Shirley added. "Five percent from our earnings. After all, we are getting our bus fixed, too."

Claymore nodded again. "Does that mean we have a deal?"

"Deal," nodded Danny. "And as it happens, I have a standard performing contract upstairs in my backpack. I always keep a blank handy. You never know when you night need one."

"Wait a minute, Danny," said Shirley, looking around "What about everyone else? Keith, Laurie, Chris . . . what do you say?" She turned to Carolyn. "And what about you? Are you sure you don't mind us imposing for another two or three days?"

"Are you kidding?" Candy burst out; "You guys are the most! Mom . . ." She turned to Carolyn. "Please? They aren't an imposition, are they?"

"Of course not!" Carolyn grinned. "As long as we get to hear you sing again, sometime soon."

"And get tickets to the show!" Jonathan put in.

"Tonight, I promise," Shirley said. "We'll need to practice, anyway! As for tickets to the show — that goes without saying." Then her eyes drooped. "Wait a minute! What about Tracy? She can't perform if she isn't feeling well."

"We have two days," Danny shrugged, "She has her medicine now, and if she's not better, and she can't perform, well, we're still the Partridge Family. Remember that time we had to sing without Chris when he had laryngitis?"

"Yes, Danny, I do!" Shirley said, snapping her fingers. "But Chris was still able to play the drums. Maybe we CAN work something out. If not — would the rest of us playing still be acceptable, Mr. Gregg?"

Captain Gregg nodded and disappeared and Claymore nodded also. "Absolutely. I'm sure there wouldn't be any problems in that area."

"Come on, Mr. Gregg," said Danny. "You get another cup of coffee, and I'll be right back. It won't take me more than a couple of minutes to find that contract. Be prepared. That's my motto! Mom, you need to stay — you'll need to sign the contract too, since I'm not old enough yet."

Claymore looked at Shirley. "Are you sure he's only ten?" Shirley nodded. "I have the oddest feeling that when I am talking to him that I am talking to a forty-year-old midget, not a kid." He shrugged. "Shame, too . . . I heard your manager wasn't traveling with you and thought maybe he was another of those do-nothing managers I've heard about. I thought I'd volunteer for the job, but I guess not, not with this guy around."

"Mr. Kinkaid is a groovy manager, he just gets a little uptight," said Danny. "He just needs a little more fun in his life, but we're helping him with that. Next year he promised to spend all of Christmas with us. Be right back!" Danny ran out of the room, followed by Jonathan and Chris.

Laurie and Candy excused themselves and headed out to the kitchen to see if Martha needed anything and Keith left also, saying he wanted to start planning the songs for the concert. Danny was back a few minutes later, contract in hand. The process didn't take long, and when they finished twenty minutes later, Claymore's head was spinning. So many legalisms, and other complex stuff, and the boy rattled it all off like nursery rhymes!

"Don't worry, Mr. Gregg," Danny was saying. "You keep at it. You'll get it. Just takes practice. I plan to make my first million by the time I'm twenty-two. I don't want to have to spend it when I am too old to enjoy it. You just follow those stock tips I gave you. Betcha I'm right. And really, you're better off not collecting that 25 percent commission for our gig. No profit margin there. All that would happen is you would get kicked up into a higher tax bracket and Uncle Sam would take the whole thing, and more even." Standing up, he shook Claymore's hand. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." Seeing Jonathan, who had come downstairs to talk Martha into making another batch of cookies, he excused himself.

"Ho-ho! I really do like that boy of yours, Mrs. Partridge! He has a marvelous mercenary streak that I — "

"That I would like to discourage," Shirley smiled, and Carolyn rolled her eyes. Claymore would NEVER develop any couth. "I appreciate your thoughts, Mr. Gregg," Shirley continued. "It's been a pleasure meeting you and I am very much looking forward to the concert, but for right now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on Tracy." With that, she left the living room, and as soon as she was gone, The Captain appeared again.

"Thank you, Claymore. You have done your part admirably. We'll see you on the morning of the twenty-sixth then, when you are out helping the town get the roads cleared."

"The twenty sixth?" Claymore looked disappointed. "You mean I'm not spending the night?"

Carolyn gave the seaman an alarmed look. This was definitely not a part of the plan!

"Of course not! We're full up, as the saying goes. You better get moving. I imagine you can make it home faster than you made it here, now that you've blazed a trail. I'd expect in less than an hour, Claymore, my boy!"

"But . . ."

"No more sleep-overs, Claymore, unless you care to bunk down on the widow's-walk."

"Now, see here! If I freeze to death, where do you think I'll be haunting?" Claymore demanded, feeling peevish.

"If you freeze to death, you can't collect any rent, you penny-pinching mongrel," the Captain countered.

"Very true!"

"Well?"

"Oh, er, but . . ." Claymore was now heading toward the foyer.

"Go, before I send you to your icy grave!" the seaman bellowed.

"I'm going! I'm going!" Claymore said, grabbing his coat.

"You are welcome back here for Christmas dinner, if you feel like walking, Claymore!" Carolyn said, following him down the walk.

"Going, going, gone!" said the Captain, as Carolyn came back inside. "All in all, a good afternoon's work, my dear!"

END PART TWO