Mrs.G.F.Handel: Wow, sorry for the long wait! College is so much different than high school! I will try to update sooner. And please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.
Handel: At least you're getting an education.
Mrs.G.F.Handel: True.
Chapter Two
Melinda's Grandmother had loved Baroque-Classical music. As a child, her grandmother would play all the recordings from Mozart to Bach, so Melinda knew a few things about musicians. When she saw the figure, she recognized him instantly as George Fredrick Handel.
But it made no sense to her, what unfinished business would a German born English composer, who lived before America was even a country, be doing at her Antique Shoppe?
Jim, unfortunately, knew less than she did. Melinda had gone to visit him at work right after seeing the spirit.
"What do you know about Handel?" Jim asked.
"Well, he was born in Germany and later moved to England and played music for the king. I really don't know anything else. How about you?"
Jim laughed. "You know more than I do. The only thing I know is that he wrote the 'Hallelujah Chorus.'"
Melinda sighed. "Well, I better get moving; I'm meeting Delia in fifteen minutes."
"Okay sweetheart, have a good time." They quickly kissed and Melinda went on her way.
… … … … … … … … … … … …
Delia was already waiting for Melinda when she reached the coffee shop. After they had their coffee and talked for a while, they went to the local mini-mall.
They spent most of their time going store to store and talking.
"Well, I say whoever is selling the chair is nuts" said Delia. "It's soft, it's comfy, and it makes you feel like you are on top of the world."
"Yes, I really like it" Melinda replied. "I am going to see the seller in about an hour."
They were just leaving the clothing store when Melinda, not watching where she was going, accidentally ran into someone.
Melinda jumped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" she asked the young woman, who nearly fell on the floor.
"No, its okay, I'm fine. It's my fault too. See, I'm late for a concert I'm performing at and I was running way too fast. My name is Vicky by the way. Vicky Glade."
"Hi, I'm Melinda Gordon."
"And I'm Delia Banks."
Vicky was about nineteen or twenty years old. She had long red hair, dark eyes, light skin, and a few freckles. She wore a black tank top and white pants and a red wrist band on her right arm.
"Nice to meet the two of you," she smiled. "But I really must be going now." And she started off.
"Okay, nice meeting you, and sorry again" Melinda called after her.
Vicky waved after them.
By now, Melinda had to return back to the store to talk with the person who was selling the chair. Saying goodbye to Delia she made her way back.
… … … … … … … … … … … …
Melinda walked into the front door of her shop, felling embarrassed that she ran into someone when she wasn't paying attention.
Sitting down at the front desk, she picked up a magazine and began to read to help pass the time. About fifteen minutes later a middle aged woman walked into the shop. She had short spiked hair that was dyed silver, a pointed face, blue shirt, and yellow pants.
"Hi, I'm Melinda Gordon" said Melinda. "Are you the one selling the chair?"
"Yes, I am. My names Kathy Willington" she replied smiling. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get to the point."
Melinda nodded and waited for her to go on.
"You see," said Kathy, "I got this chair from my Mother. She had bought this from an elderly woman at a yard sell. The woman said something interesting, though. She had clamed that the chair had once belonged to the composer George Fredrick Handel."
Melinda's heart stopped. Is that why she saw the composer's ghost, because of a chair?
Kathy, not noticing Melinda's discomfort, continued. "Of course, I never found out for sure. But I like to think it is. You won't mind telling who ever buys this about the story, will you?"
"Sure I'll tell them" assured Melinda, nodding. "But why are you selling it?"
"Well, because I just had my third child. I have been looking for a new home, but I can't afford to bring this with me. I had heard of this place so I decided to bring it here. Would you please sell this to someone who will appreciate the beauty and history as much as I do?"
"Sure thing, I'd be glad to."
"Thank you so much!" replied Kathy, shaking Melinda's hand. "And keep the money, as a tip."
"Okay," said Melinda happily. "Oh, and by the way, before you go, I have a quick question."
"Sure," said Kathy "what is it?"
"Have you noticed anything strange or unusual happen that you couldn't explain?"
Kathy raised an eyebrow. "No, not really. Why do you ask?"
"No reason. Never mind."
They said good bye and Kathy left the building.
Melinda turned around and jumped. Standing right in front of her was Handel. He looked from the chair to Melinda.
"Listen, I know who you are," Melinda told him. "Is this why you're still here? Because of your chair?"
Handel was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head and said in a thick German accent "No, this has nothing to do with the chair. It's about my niece."
"Your niece?" asked Melinda, confused.
TBC…
Mrs.G.F.Handel: Sorry again for the long wait.
Handel: I bet I know who my niece is!
Mrs.G.F.Handel: Shush!