The Ghost and Mrs. Muir

A Myriad of Miracles

Chapter 1

All canon characters are the property of 20th Century-Fox and R.A. Dick. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Claymore Gregg was in his office arguing with Ed Peevey. The painter/ handyman/assistant constable just stood there, arms folded across his chest, looking unimpressed.

"I will not continue to pay your 'terror tax' whenever Mrs. Muir needs something repaired in Gull Cottage. It's highway robbery!"

"Well, Harve needs a sedative and a few drinks before he'll even walk through the gate, and I've had enough things thrown through the air at me to believe that the house is truly haunted. Never could figure out how two women and two children could live there comfortably." stated Peevey.

"I tell you Ed, I'll find someone else to do the work. The furnace stopped working too, but fortunately it's warm now, so that can wait. The water heater, however, MUST BE REPAIRED! Mrs. Muir and, ah…Martha, are holding my feet to the fire about that." Of course, Claymore meant to say that Captain Daniel Gregg, the resident ghost of Gull Cottage was making his life miserable because of the state of the confounded hot water heater. "And you know, if Martha doesn't have any hot water, you won't have any cherry pies."

"Oh, I'm not worried about my supply of cherry pie, Claymore. Besides, Norrie's restaurant has started to sag at the southern corner and could come down and kill someone. Harve and I are going over there right after you and I finish this little discussion of ours."

Claymore stood up, affecting his best "I'll show you!" posture. "I'll find another handyman, see if I don't. Oh," he stopped in mid-tirade, adopting a neighborly tone, "and say 'hello' to Norrie for me."

Peevey just shook his head as the opened the door. Where would Claymore find anyone else? The reputation of Gull Cottage was known far and wide. He was sorry that Mrs. Muir would be so inconvenienced, but even if the price of repairing the water heater wasn't an issue, there was no way that they could ignore the restaurant building. It would take at least a week to stabilize it properly, probably more.

Across the street, Norrie and Harve were waiting. When Ed joined them, they all peered over the edge of the street at the embankment that the corner of the restaurant sat on. Over the many years the structure had been there, the tides of the bay had undercut the shoreline where the corner in question sat. Harve shook his head sadly and laid a hand on Norrie's shoulder.

"I tell you this doesn't look good." He turned to Ed, "any idea how we can save the building?"

Peevey chewed on his cheek for a few moments. "It's going to be tough to salvage this, Norrie. The tides are always going to be undercutting the shore here unless you can get the town to spend major money on building a breakwater. Otherwise, you're going to have to decide whether it's worth the trouble and expense to rebuild every few years. Might make better sense to rent a new building somewhere else."

"But the restaurant's always been here! How can I serve a Shore Dinner when it's not served on the shore?" Norrie cried, more than a little distraught.

While the three men were still lamenting the state of things, an old picked up truck pulled up to the sidewalk where they were standing. The body was banged up and had more dent filler in it than actual steel. The front bumper looked like it had lost a battle with a bus and the back bumper hung at an unnatural angle. The tailgate was held closed at both sides with wire, and a close inspection would have revealed that its hinges were actually long carpentry nails. The back of the vehicle held a startling collection of tools, none of which seemed to have come from the same set and many of which contained a definite patina of rust. Also in the back of the truck was a folded camping tent and several sacks which could have contained almost anything.

Despite the condition of the truck body and its contents, the motor purred like a kitten. It shut off obediently as the owner stepped out of the vehicle, which required hitting the driver's door from the inside with his foot.

And it was a very large foot belonging to a very large man. He was nearly 6'4" if he was an inch and probably 300 lbs. He had light brown hair and light blue eyes, and he looked like he was in his early 30's. He was dressed in jeans and a denim shirt that not even a charity shop would accept. He walked over to the group and looked over the edge of the sidewalk at the impending disaster below.

"Can I help you fellows?" he asked in a strong Texas twang. "I do odd jobs, construction, lumber milling, anything really."

"Well, I don't quite know," answered Peevey. "We were discussing if it was worth saving the building, and if so, how we'd go about it."

"What about house jacks?" asked Harve.

"No," said the stranger. "not unless you first fill in the shoreline with rocks. Big rocks, and lots of 'em. Then you'd have to add marine cement all over and through 'em, let it dry and cure and then you'd have a solid platform to place some house jacks. Then you'd want to encase it all in a plaster cement casing to make it look nice and add more protection to it."

Norrie, Peevey and Harve looked from one to the other and then to the big man. Ed held out his hand and introduced himself and the others to the big man. He returned their greeting with a bright smile and said, "just call me 'Tex'. Everyone does. You need a hand with this job?"

"Sure do," responded Ed. "It's gonna be a big job. With the three of us we might actually get it done. You live around here now?"

"No. I go where I want to when I want to. When it's too hot in the southwest, I head up here or to the Pacific northwest, whichever strikes my fancy. When it gets too cold, I go back down south."

"Need a place to stay?" asked Norrie.

"No but thank you. I've got my tent and I usually find some nice place to pitch it. I don't need much." Tex replied.

The four men continued to discuss the project and decided on the plan for the next day. As Norrie went back inside the restaurant and Harve and Ed headed up to Bangor to get started on the finding a company with the rocks they would need, Tex headed to the driver's door of his truck. Just like the difficulty with getting out of the machine, the big man had to put one foot on the body of the truck and pull on the door handle with all his considerable strength to open the door again. Years of doing this had impressed his boot print into the trucks body, and if anyone had ever asked him why he just didn't get in on the passenger's side, he would have explained that in order to prevent that door from coming off completely, he had welded it shut. He didn't really care much about how the truck looked as long as it was usable, but he did spend much of his free time keeping the engine in tip-top condition.

Claymore had watched the interaction of the stranger with the others and seen how they were willing to follow his lead. He headed nonchalantly over to this behemoth and stared for a moment while the struggle with the door ensued. "Don't you think it's time for a new truck?" he asked.

Tex smiled at the older man. "Nah. We've been together forever and I'm not going to give up on her now. Can I do something for you?"

"Yes, actually, you can," replied Claymore. "From the looks of things, you're a handyman and I have many rental properties in town. I need someone who could do some jobs for me."

"What about Ed? Seems like he's the local guy," Tex mused. "Why don't you use him? Doesn't he do good work?"
"Yes, he does. But you see, he's the only one in town and I think his head has gotten a little too big lately. He hates coming out to one of my properties in particular and the tenant has a young family and no hot water. It's an old house and they are responsible for all the repairs. Think you could fix their water heater?"

"Oh, I'm sure I could, but we've got to stabilize Norrie's restaurant first before it collapses. We'll have a couple of days' work and then we'll have to take a break for a while for the cement to cure so that we can finish it up nice and neat. I'd say I'd be able to go out to that house of yours in about three days and take care of the water heater."

"What would you charge?" asked Claymore quickly.

"Well, I'd have to see what the job requires before I can say, but I've got next to no overhead to speak of, so my prices are pretty reasonable." Tex said with a nice bright smile.

"Reasonable…yes, yes, that's ah, reasonable. Well, when you are ready to come out and look at the job, just come right over to my office." He turned and pointed to the sign on the window. "I'm Claymore Gregg, Real Estate Agent, Justice of the Peace, Town Clerk, Notary Republic, etc. I'll take you up to meet Mrs. Muir when you're available and you can look at the job."

"And Mr. Muir hasn't been able to do anything with that water heater himself?"

"No," Claymore signed dramatically. "There is no longer a Mr. Muir. It's his widow, two young children and their housekeeper."

"Oh," Tex was downcast. "That's terrible. Just terrible. I won't charge for the job. Just any parts that are needed. I can't see having to make a widow with two young children have to worry about something like that."

"The furnace isn't working either."

"Why, that's terrible! Just sinful! How could you let them live in one of your houses if it's in that condition?" Tex's smile faded away like the sun when a cloud blocks its light. He rarely got upset, much less angry, but this was just about to become one of those times.

"Well, it worked up until last week and it's been warm since then. It's a lovely house, really. And Mrs. Muir loves it."

Tex just shook his head and sighed.