Chapter Two

To Stay Or Not To Stay

A week later:

Claymore Gregg tried not to look nervous as he stood on the side of the road where it ran along the cliff-top, leading away from Gull Cottage. He pushed a forefinger around inside the collar of his business shirt, feeling as if his tie was strangling him. He couldn't see his great-uncle's house from this position, but he sensed he was being closely watched.

"I do have every right to be here on my own land," he muttered.

The thought didn't ease the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He rubbed it with the flat of his hand. Any thought of his ghostly relative always brought on a fresh attack of dyspepsia. He hadn't eaten a single thing all morning because of it.

Claymore's greed had driven him to agree to this property survey meeting and now his hesitation over being called a deal-breaker if he called it off, kept him there. But he couldn't bring himself to be happy, no matter the blandishments being offered.

Now he wished he'd never answered the telephone a month ago to a man who sternly assured him that he was about to make the deal of a lifetime. His full attention to the matter was immediate and everything his caller could have demanded until the piece of land in question had been mentioned.

"I wish I didn't have to answer to him in all things…" Claymore dropped his hand as he glanced back nervously to the expensive car parked on the side of the road behind his own. "Blast…"

The stocky, middle-aged property developer standing beside the vehicle was watching him impatiently. He looked like a man well-used to making large decisions with good hard cash he could well afford.

"You're sure this is your very best parcel of land?" he demanded to know as Claymore approached him diffidently.

"Um, yes. As far as the eye can see. Ah, do you like what you see?" Schooner Bay's estate agent asked with a nervous smile. "Because I do have more parcels on the other side of town. All with fine sea views. We can go and see them."

"No, if this is your best, then it will do me nicely." Marcus Cornell nodded with satisfaction as he looked around. "With views like this, I could put up my next hotel right here and maybe even two dozen condos. I'll be sure to sell them for top dollar. Chumps are always willing to pay extra to live by the sea."

He shook his head at the folly of others. "Me, I prefer the city. Seagulls and sand are not to my taste."

He glanced at Claymore. "Very well, Gregg. I've seen enough. How would you like to make a very nice profit on this prime piece of property?"

"Well, that's why I agreed to meet you here," Claymore responded quickly. "Once I prepare the paperwork, we can sign the deal next week. But, are you sure?"

"I'm well satisfied. But before we sign anything, I have a couple of firm conditions." Cornell frowned, raising one denying hand.

He walked across the road onto the rise that afforded him views inland and back toward town. "The first one is that cottage back along the road will have to come down, of course. It's in the way of my ideas for an impressive arched entrance to the Grand Cornell Hotel."

Claymore jumped as if he'd just been shot in the butt. He scurried across the road. "Gull Cottage? Oh, but surely, we can exclude that. I mean, it's not impeding the view." He waved an anxious hand back toward the ocean behind them. "You're looking the wrong way."

"Oh, no, no…" Cornell denied him firmly. "It will have to come right down to the last nail and board. It's an eyesore and spoils the view. My clients pay over the odds to have them uninterrupted in every direction."

Claymore grimaced fearfully. "Ah, you want it to come all the way down?" He tittered in his nervousness. "Surely you can't be serious."

"Yes, of course, I'm dead serious." Cornell glared at him. "Why, what's the matter? Do you have a problem with that? I thought you said you owned everything around here. Everything as far as I can see, you said. Did you lie to me?"

"I didn't and I do!" Claymore fluttered his hands. "It's just that I have tenants in some of the houses further along Bay Road. It'll take time to move them all on. I thought our deal would be for the land that's not been built on already."

"Time is a commodity I don't have," Cornell replied severely. "If you cannot accommodate me then I shall have to look elsewhere. The mayor of Beacon Bay has already assured me he has some excellent sea frontages he could show me. Land that doesn't come with any old houses or the annoyance of a few sitting tenants."

He raised his expensively clad shoulders. "I was told you are a man of business. Perhaps not enough of one, it seems. I'm better to take my business elsewhere." He started to walk away.

"Oh, no. Please, don't do that. Don't be too hasty. I can fix it." Claymore held out a pleading hand. "I mean, if you want the house down, then down it will come. I just need a little more time to square a few things."

Cornell's eyebrows rose in interrogation. "If I agree then there will be no more foolish talk of delays or stubborn tenants? This is the land I want. All of it."

"No, no, no more delays. I can promise you that," Claymore replied quickly, with a weak smile.

"Good…" Cornell rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "Then I will survey the rest of the area before we shake on the deal."

He walked away toward the cliff-edge to stand looking out at the view of the restless Atlantic. Claymore watched him, wishing he could just walk away and forget the deal. He was about to step forward to join the other man when the Captain appeared behind him, extending one commanding hand to pull him back.

"So, you'd level Gull Cottage on the whim of a money-grubbing nabob, would you? You're nothing more than a snivelling sea serpent! I should harpoon you where you stand and nail your sorry hide to the mizzen mast as a warning to all deal breakers!"

Claymore raised his hand pleadingly. "Captain, I was going to tell you! Honest! But think about it! This could be the biggest deal of our lives!"

"You will not lay one greedy, grubby finger on my house! Or it will be the last thing you ever do in this life!"

"Oh, but, Uncle, please…" Claymore wheedled in a tense whisper. "If you'd only allow me to close this deal, I could build you an even bigger house, with many more rooms for you to haunt. Or you could buy yourself a boat and go travelling. See the world again like you used to do."

"You perfidious dunderhead…" The Captain advanced on him, clenching his fists. "I don't want to live anywhere else! I'm very happy here!"

"Yes, well, I'm entitled to be happy too," Claymore defended himself. "I need this deal. Things haven't been going at all good lately. Not good at all. All the property upkeep and maintenance has run me quite ragged."

He rubbed anxiously at his burning abdomen. "Of course, if you were willing to part with some of that golden treasure, we both know you've got hidden around here, somewhere…"

"All you're entitled to is the quickest way to join me in my present state on this side of the veil, you penny-pinching, unprincipled, money-grubbing, under-handed ingrate!"

Claymore drew himself up to his full height. "I'm only human. I have needs. Things I need. And you forget that I own the house. Just like Mrs Muir, you're my tenant. In case you've overlooked that singular fact."

"Very well…" The Captain shrugged. "But touch one nail or a single board on Gull Cottage and I can assure you it will be the very last thing you ever do in this life!"

He swept his hands across in front of him and vanished from sight. Claymore wiped an unsteady hand across his damp brow.

"Are you coming, Gregg?" Cornell called from across the road. "I haven't got all day to dawdle out here in the hot sun."

"Um, oh, yes. Yes, of course, I'm coming." Claymore scurried up to him.

Cornell frowned at him. "I will have your agreement to our deal by Monday. That'll give you three days to evict everyone from my property. I won't tolerate a minute more. I'm an impatient man and time is money. Beacon Bay will do just as well with less hassles."

"Monday?" Claymore's brows rose in trepidation. "Oh, I don't know if that's even possible. I mean, the current tenant of the cottage is a young widow with two small children. Where would they go?"

"Make it possible. I'm offering you a handsome deal on some property you said you wanted taken off your hands. I might even throw in a small bonus. Don't go all squirrelly on me now. This is no time to give up the ghost."

"Good point…" Claymore laughed weakly as he mopped his brow with an unsteady hand. "Monday, you said."

His boundless greed finally overrode his quivering sense of abject fear. Somehow, by Monday, he would make it right. He would see the deal through and be a rich man.

He glanced nervously back down the road toward Gull Cottage. "Monday, it is then." He cringed, waiting for lightning to strike him down. But all was silent and still, with an air of unspoken menace.

He shook Cornell's outstretched hand and prayed that he could come up with something to make the deal right in three days. He was desperate and any slight chink in his great-uncle's defences needed to be exploited to the fullest.

"But what on earth could I come up with in such a short time?" he whispered, as he turned away from his client and hurried toward his own car.

The pain in his abused stomach had moved up to his skull and he didn't know which was worse. He needed to lie down in a darkened room and sort through his options, which were pitifully few…

※※※※※

The next morning, Carolyn sat down on the living room couch to begin reading the book she'd picked up from the town library earlier in the week. 'Spiritualism Today' was the book's title. She did not find it an easy read, but she persevered with the heavy tome because she needed to understand the medium's background for her article.

She was curious about Madame Tibaldi's work since she'd telegrammed her invitation to the medium and was still waiting for an answer. She prayed the woman wasn't too busy and her answer would be in the affirmative. Time wasn't on her side, and she had no Plan B at this point.

"If I don't hear anything soon, I might be forced to use one of the Captain's stories, after all," she murmured, glancing up from her reading to frown at the portrait above the mantle.

Much to her frustration, the Captain had gone silent again. He'd told Jonathan that he would confine himself to quarters until the boy's mother came to her senses and decided not to allow the blasted medium beneath his roof.

"I do wish you would understand that I need to write the article to get the money to pay the bills," Carolyn reminded his painted image, which stared back at her with frowning indifference. "You could help, you know. Instead of sitting up in the wheelhouse and sulking."

She raised a denying shoulder. "All right, then. Have it your way…" She felt ridiculously near to tears again.

The distracting dream of the Captain appearing in her bedroom and kissing her cheek still haunted her. If she concentrated, she could still feel the faint brush of his lips across her skin and the soft scratchiness of his beard. Her heartbeat accelerated with formless need. But the dream had not been repeated, much to her chagrin.

'If only I could touch your hand…' the line from the Captain's piece of doggerel repeated itself, making her frown.

"Foolishness. I must be more tired than I thought…" she murmured, shaking her head as she tried to make sense of the words she was reading.

Since it was Saturday, both children were home from school. They were seated on either side of the coffee table playing checkers. It was a contentious game and had already led to several arguments.

"Hey, that's a no fair move!" Jonathan complained, scowling as he watched Candy pounce gleefully on his hapless counter.

Seated attentively on the couch, Scruffy had been providing his young master with ideas about some dubious moves which quickly turned out to be disastrous. Candy seized on her brother's last move and won the game with a crow of delight.

"Well, you were a really big help," Jonathan muttered, frowning at his pet. "How come you didn't see that last move?"

The dog whined and hid his face beneath the side cushion.

"How about you three play a game of chess instead," Carolyn advised with a smile, looking up from her reading. "Scruffy's a lot better at that."

Both children rolled their eyes at her as they reset the game. Carolyn shook her head as she went back to her reading. At that same moment, a firm knock sounded on the front door.

Carolyn looked up in puzzlement. "Now I wonder who that could be…"

"I'll get it, Mrs Muir…" Martha called from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Martha." Carolyn settled back down with her weighty book once more.

She was making very little headway, and the words were starting to swim before her eyes. She wondered how much more she could read before she finally gave up. "If only there was an abridged version."

The children continued to argue over their game as the housekeeper opened the door. They all heard a brief conversation and then footsteps crossing the foyer.

"Who's at the door?" Carolyn looked up with curiosity as Martha hurried into the room.

The housekeeper shook her head. "Well, Mrs Muir, it seems we have an interesting visitor. This is —"

"Ah, ah, ah…" a woman's cheerful voice replied. "No, no, please don't introduce me, dear. I find it's better that way. I like my arrival to be a complete surprise. A bit like a marvellous genie jumping right out of a bottle."

A small, birdlike woman, dressed in many shades of lavender and wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat, swept into the room with her arms held out dramatically. Carolyn was startled as she put her book aside and rose from the couch, her expression full of cautious welcome.

"Ah, good morning," she said, watching the older woman with fascination. "Welcome to Gull Cottage."

"Yes, yes, a very good morning to you all. I am Madame Olivia Tibaldi," the older woman announced grandly, laying one palm flat on her chest. "And I'm sure you'll forgive my barging in like this, my dear. But I was so flattered when I got your darling little telegram. Your invitation to visit was so sweetly worded that it quite revived me from my recent attack of the confounded doldrums. I said to myself how could I refuse?"

She beamed her warm approval. "And since I was coming up this way, any way, I decided that fate and the spirits must have intervened. Isn't it wonderful?"

Carolyn blinked at her rather garrulous visitor. "Oh, Madame Tibaldi, I'm just so delighted you decided to accept. I'm Carolyn —"

"Oh, no, no, no…" The medium waved a warning finger sternly. "Introductions are not necessary. You see, you all give off such wonderful vibrations…" She pressed her open palms to her cheeks as she looked around the room.

She reached out to place one hand on Carolyn's. "You're the mother…"

She turned to tap Martha lightly on her shoulder. "And you're the maid. I can sense you don't approve of mediums. Your corns are killing you. And you wish you would hear from your brother in Sioux City. He worries you with his silence. Be assured, all will be well in time."

"Ah, ha…" Martha frowned at her. "Well, it's not my corns that bother me, it's my ankles. And I don't have a brother, it's a sister. And she's not in Sioux City. She lives in Cedar Falls. And I'm not the housemaid. I'm the cook and the housekeeper. And no, I don't believe in mediums either," she finished firmly.

"So I missed a few minor details," the medium laughed it off with a bright titter. "Sometimes my spirits take a bit of time to get themselves orientated. They whisper all sorts of things to me, you know. Sometimes it's so annoying when a body is trying to sleep."

She fluttered across the room toward the children who had risen from their game to stare at her with fascination. "And these are the sweetest of sweet children. So young and innocent. So full of life."

She patted Jonathan on the head. "This is the boy…"

She turned to Candy. "And this is the girl." She laid her hand lightly on her head. "Very pretty."

Scruffy barked from the couch, not wanting to be left out. Madame Tibaldi beamed at him. "And this is the darling little dog. So many bones to bury and not enough time…" She chuckled.

Martha glanced wryly at Carolyn. "How'd she ever figure all of that out? And without a crystal ball, too."

"But he's a very intelligent little dog, all the same." The medium patted the animal's head before bending down to hug him. "But checkers is not your game, darling. It's really chess."

Carolyn and the children exchanged frowning glances, now not sure what to think. They were all bemused by this little, birdlike woman who had fluttered into their lives without warning.

Madam Tibaldi allowed Scruffy to struggle away from her embrace. "Oh, my, this is such a charming room. So utterly charming…"

She looked across at the extensive assortment of books in the large side cabinet. "And that bookcase. Oh my, what a wonderful collection." She tripped across the carpet, clasping her hands together in ecstasy. "Someone enjoys reading."

Carolyn turned to Martha, nudging her from her wide-eyed fascination with the other woman's antics. "Martha, would you please —"

"Oh no, don't tell me…" the housekeeper begged, raising her hands to her head. "Pick up the checkers and have the children help me with hanging out the washing while you do your interview. Then they can play out of your way in the back yard, until lunchtime."

Carolyn smiled. "You're my kind of medium."

"Come on, kids," Martha instructed. "Pick up your game and let's go. We've all got our chores to do. This circus will play itself out without us to watch."

"Awww…" Candy and Jonathan both complained loudly as they got to their feet. They were reluctant to leave their new-found attraction.

Carolyn approached the other woman. "Ah, Madame Tibaldi, I've been reading your book. It's just… fascinating. If you don't mind answering a few questions, I know you'd make a wonderful subject for the article I'm going to write about you."

"Oh, I will do that, no question," the medium replied happily. "But I do love this room!"

To Carolyn's bemusement, the woman was off again, tripping across the carpet, and looking all around. "It lives, it breathes…" she enthused as Martha finally managed to get the children to tidy up and leave the room. "There's such a personality here…"

The medium stopped to gaze at the Captain's image above the fireplace. "And look at this wonderful portrait… That pose. So commanding and manly. Oh my, he quite makes me shiver."

The Captain abruptly materialised behind Carolyn. "I warned you, Madam! I will not have that fraudulent ghost-caller under my roof! Send her packing this instant, or I will!"

"Hush…" Carolyn whispered fiercely, waving her hand behind her.

"Oh, you rascal…" Madame Tibaldi smiled as she turned back to her hostess. "I must know, my dear. Who is this so very handsome man? There is the very devil in his gorgeous blue eyes."

"But, she has taste," the Captain added, somewhat mollified.

"That's Captain Gregg," Carolyn replied stiffly. "He built this house over a century ago. But I'm not sure handsome is the word…" She glanced behind her warningly.

"You're absolutely right," Madame Tibaldi immediately agreed. "He's magnificent! Such a masculine face. Such compelling eyes and such a strong chin."

She returned to looking at the painting. "Oh, I'm quite overcome. I'm sure he was also the most perfect of perfect lovers. I'll bet no woman ever had any complaints when she finally left his company!"

She tittered gaily, waving one hand in front of her face. "Oh, dear me, no…"

The Captain stroked his beard with one hand. "She's terribly astute, you know. I do not remember a single complaint. Not a one." His lips twisted wryly. "Of course, in those times, nineteenth-century women knew their place and kept to it willingly!"

"Maybe that's because you didn't stay around long enough to find out if a single one of them had anything to say," Carolyn muttered crossly, feeling unreasonably put out.

She glanced behind her and her eyes snagged on his mouth and the distracting memory of his kiss against her cheek made her shiver. If only it had been real, and not some fanciful dream born of wishful thinking and loneliness. She looked quickly away before he noticed.

"On the other hand, my dear, I don't like his mouth," the little medium continued seriously. "And that beard…"

"I want her out of this house, at once!" the Captain commanded, folding his arms.

Madame Tibaldi clicked her tongue. "He does seem a bit spoiled. Maybe even a little petulant, if he doesn't always get his own way."

"That's him, all right," Carolyn agreed with a quick nod of satisfaction.

Madame Tibaldi beamed. "But then, women do tend to spoil such a man. It must be very difficult, living in this house with that portrait with those devilish eyes always fixed on all your doings. I swear, I could spend all day just looking at him and imagining all sorts of delicious things!"

She put the fingers of one hand to her forehead. "I can see flickering candlelight and there are diamonds, sapphires and pearls…" She sighed as her eyes drifted briefly shut. "Two ardent lovers entwined upon a wide bed in the soft moonlight…"

"Two lovers, I see…" Carolyn's breathing hitched as her cheeks warmed. She shook her head. "Yes, well, it can be very challenging…" She tried not to look behind her again. This whole conversation was not going at all how she'd imagined.

"Yes, he is a very strong, proud, predatory male…" The medium nodded briskly. "Who says, you're mine and has a way of making us love it." She tittered another laugh, though her eyes were full of shadows. "Oh, I so long to live again in those dashing times. I miss them terribly." She sighed dramatically.

"At last, someone who is wise enough to recognise my worth. You can now see what a marvellous treasure you have in me, Madam," the Captain remarked with deep satisfaction. "I will allow you half an hour with her for your interview, then she will begone!" he commanded as he dematerialised.

"I know you're a very busy woman and we have a great deal to discuss…" Carolyn rolled her eyes as she approached the little medium, who was still staring up at the painting. "Now, Madame Tibaldi, would you like some tea?"

"That's a marvellous idea. When we're done, I can read the leaves."

"Oh, I'm sorry. We only have tea bags."

The medium patted her hand. "Oh, don't worry, my dear. It's more challenging that way."

Carolyn laughed as she walked out of the room toward the kitchen. The children were clustered in the open doorway, looking in with keen interest.

"Come on in then and talk to Madame Tibaldi, while I make the tea," their mother encouraged.

"Oh, yes. Do come on in, children." The medium turned from staring up at the Captain's portrait. "Your sweet energy is so adorable. You have quite revived me."

"Madame Tibaldi. Can you tell a person's fortune with cards?" Jonathan wanted to know, offering her the deck he held in his hand.

The medium seated herself on the couch. "Oh, not only cards, dear. I can also read lines in the hand and the bumps on the head." She sat back, looking well pleased with herself.

"Really?" Jonathan looked astonished. "Well, what does this one mean?" He bent his head to indicate a soft on his skull.

"Well…" Madame Tibaldi felt the spot. "That means you fell out of bed onto it. You really should be more careful in the middle of the night."

Candy sniggered. Both children watched her eagerly.

"When I grow up, will I find someone like Captain Gregg?" Candy asked breathlessly as she glanced at the portrait above the mantlepiece.

"When you grow up, you're going to be the fairest in the land," Madame Tibaldi predicted. "And a prince is going to come riding from beyond the stars and lay his jewels and kingdom at your feet."

She warmed to her theme. "And you're going to have six brave sons and six beautiful daughters. And live happily ever after."

"Really?" Candy asked, wide-eyed with wonder. "Sounds really groovy…"

"What about me?" Johnathan demanded impatiently. "What'll I do?"

"Oh, you'll marry a beautiful princess and live happily ever after in a huge castle on a hill."

"Geez, I hate princesses," the boy replied stoutly.

"Oh, that'll soon pass," the medium assured him airily. "When you're a man like our dear Captain up there…" She waved an airy hand toward the painting. "Such brooding magnetism…"

"Okay…" Jonathan shrugged. "But when I grow up will I have a neat beard and a schooner just like the Captain did?"

"Well, let's see what the cards say." Madame Tibaldi began to deal the cards out on the coffee table while the children watched her every move eagerly.

"There's a nine of diamonds… A king of diamonds and the queen of hearts… and another nine of diamonds… What's all this about?"

"What do the cards tell you?" Candy asked eagerly.

Madame Tibaldi shrugged and laughed. "That it's a penochle deck."

※※※※※

In the kitchen, Carolyn picked up the brass kettle to add boiling water to the teapot. The Captain stood behind her with a dissatisfied expression watching her work.

"I said, half an hour, Madam. Now you're wasting time making her tea. Just how much longer am I to put up with that twittering fraud? I'm in the middle of creating a new sea chart and I need peace and quiet to make my calculations. She has done nothing but chatter like a cursed magpie since the very moment she stepped over our doorsill. Her conversation is rambling and pointless."

"She'll be here for as long as it takes to get my interview," Carolyn replied. "So please don't try any fancy tricks that'll ruin it," she commanded, returning the kettle to the stove. "I find her fascinating and quite refreshing. We need the money. Then you may have your precious peace and quiet back."

She glanced at him. "Unless you have a bag or two of gold buried somewhere in the garden that you could lend to us. Then I can give Madame Tibaldi her cup of tea, thank her for coming, and send her on her way."

"My treasure is for my exclusive use," the Captain replied tersely. "If it exists at all," he quickly amended. "Which I'm not saying it does. But if it did, I still have an eternity of needs that must be met." He stopped talking and scowled his discontent.

Carolyn tried hard not to chuckle at his morose expression. "Penny pincher…" she accused softly. "But do not go alerting Madame Tibaldi to your presence. I want an interview, not a séance. I don't want her any more distracted than she is now. Your portrait has quite captured her."

"The blasted busybody can neither see me nor hear me, unless I will it so," the Captain replied huffily. "But you may have my agreement that I will not impede her welcome removal from my house. The timing is all that is in question. You have already wasted ten minutes on this confounded tea."

"Well, I'm sorry if you feel inconvenienced," Carolyn replied, putting the lid on the teapot. "But I will take as long as needed to get her full story. Go and make your charts and leave women's business to the women. We would only bore you with our chatter."

She shrugged, needing to make a point. "Didn't nineteenth-century men always leave their womenfolk to converse in private? You may retire to drink your Madeira and smoke a cigar." She picked up the tray.

"Very well, Madam…" The Captain paced behind her, where he could safely observe her soft beauty without being detected. "She may stay until you get your interview. I cannot say fairer than that."

"Thank you, Captain," Carolyn replied demurely.

He studied her downcast face with suspicion as he waved a commanding forefinger. "But not a moment longer. I will be waiting for the welcome sounds of her departure."

His gaze drifted across the nape of her neck for a distracting moment. The soft elegance of her shape tempted him to explore. He vividly remembered kissing her cheek in the night and he was now sure she'd whispered his name.

'If only I could touch your hand…' the line from the poem he'd written for her repeated itself in his mind.

He wanted to do so much more than simply touch her hand. He hadn't dared venture back into her room in the night since that incredible moment. He did not trust himself. His whole body clenched with need and he allowed his hand to drift closer...

"Oh…" Carolyn turned to him, frowning at the upraised finger being waved in her face and not seeing the intense longing in his eyes. "Thank you, so much." She smiled smugly at him as she carried the tea tray from the kitchen with her head held high.

"Confounded women!" The Captain glared after her as he tamped down the confusion of his rising desire to touch her when she was awake and aware. "It's intolerable when a man cannot secure a single modicum of blessed peace in his own house!"

※※※※※