The Ghost (8 page)

Don't apologize, she smiled. I was just surprised. I wasn't expecting anyone. I'm afraid I forgot my manners. Would you like to come in for something warm to drink? I'm not really set up for visitors right now. I usually only get paying guests in the warmer weather. He hesitated on the doorstep as he looked at her, wondering if he should drive on while he still could, and find the motel she had recommended. But it was very tempting to come in and visit with her. He could see from the doorway how handsome the living room was. It was a beautifully built old house, possibly even from Revolutionary days, there were heavy beams overhead, carefully laid floors, and he could see that the room was filled with lovely antiques and English and Early American paintings. Come in ' Glynnis and I will behave, I promise. She indicated the dog as she said her name, and the big setter wagged her tail furiously as though endorsing the promise. I didn't mean to be so inhospitable. I was just startled. And as she spoke to him, Charlie found himself unable to resist the invitation, and walked into the warm, welcoming living room that seemed to engulf him like magic. It was even lovelier than he had suspected from the doorway. There was a fire burning in the grate, and there was a remarkably beautiful antique piano in the corner.

I'm sorry to intrude. I was driving north to Vermont, and the snow got too heavy to drive any farther. He looked at her admiringly, thinking about how pretty she still was, and how graceful, as she walked into her kitchen and he followed. She put a big copper kettle on, and he couldn't help noticing that everything was spotless.

What a beautiful home you have ' is it Mrs. Palmer? He remembered the name on the sign, and she smiled in answer.

It is. Thank you. And you are? She looked at him like a schoolteacher expecting an answer, and this time he smiled. He didn't know who she was, or why he had come here, but he instantly knew that he loved her.

Charles Waterston, he said, extending a hand to her politely, and she shook it. Her hands were very smooth and young for her age, her nails were neatly manicured, and she wore a plain gold wedding band. That and the pearls she wore were her only jewelry. All the spare money she'd ever had she'd put into the antiques and paintings that he saw all around him. But their quality wasn't lost on Charles, who had seen too many fine things in his childhood, and in London, to ignore them.

And where are you from, Mr. Waterston? Mrs. Palmer asked as she prepared their tea tray. He had no idea if he was being invited to tea, or would be allowed to spend the night in her establishment, and he didn't dare ask her. If she wasn't going to let him stay, he knew he should press on before the snowstorm got worse, and the roads too icy. But he didn't say a word about it, as he watched her put a silver teapot on an embroidered linen cloth that was much older than she was.

That's an interesting question, he said with a smile, as she waved him to a comfortable leather chair in front of the fire in her kitchen. There was a George III butler's table in front of it, which she liked to serve tea on. I've been living in London for the last ten years, and I'll be going back after the holidays. But I'Ve just come from New York, yesterday in fact. I'Ve been there for the past two months, and I was planning to spend a year there, but now it would appear that I can go back to London. It was as simply as he could explain it, without going into all the details. And she smiled gently as she looked at him, as though she understood far more than he had told her.

A change of plans?

You could say that, he said, as he patted the dog, and then looked up at his hostess again. It was as though she had been expecting him, as she put a plate of cinnamon cookies on the table.

Don't let Glynnis eat them, she warned, and he laughed, and then he thought he should ask her if he was intruding. It was nearly dinnertime, and there was no reason for her to be serving tea to him, particularly if she didn't take in guests during the winter. But she seemed to be enjoying the visit. Glynnis particularly likes cinnamon, although she's also quite partial to oatmeal. Mrs. Palmer explained about the dog, as Charlie smiled at the owner of the erstwhile Cookie Monster, wondering if she had lived there all her life. It was difficult to look at Mrs. Palmer, and not wonder about her story. She seemed surprisingly elegant, and very fragile. Will you be going back to New York again, Mr. Waterston, before you return to London?

I don't think so. I'm on my way to ski in Vermont, and I thought I'd fly back via Boston. I'm afraid New York isn't my favorite town, although I lived there for a long time. I've been spoiled by living in Europe.

She smiled very gently at him then, as she sat down across from him, at the small, distinguished table. My husband was English. We used to visit there once in a while, to see his relatives, but he was happy here, and once they died, we never went back. He said he had everything he wanted here in Shelburne Falls. She smiled at her guest, and there was something unsaid in her eyes. Charlie couldn't help wondering what it was, if it was grief, or merely memory, or love for a man with whom she had shared a lifetime. He wondered if, at her age, he would still look like that when he spoke of Carole.

And where are you from? he asked, sipping the delicious tea she had brewed for him. It was Earl Grey, and he was a tea drinker, but he had never tasted anything like it. There was something truly magical about her.

I'm from right here, she said with a smile, setting her cup down. The china was Wedgwood, and as delicate as she was. The entire scene reminded Charlie of the many places and people he'd met on his travels around England. I've lived in Shelburne Falls all my life. In this house, actually, it belonged to my parents. And my son went to school in Deerfield. He found it hard to believe as he looked at her, she seemed so much more worldly than one would have expected from a woman who had lived in New England all her life, and he sensed that there had to be more than she was saying. When I was very young, I went to Boston for a year, and lived with my aunt. I thought it was a very exciting place, and that was where I met my husband. He was a visiting scholar at Harvard. And when we were married, we moved here, that was fifty years ago, this year in fact. I'll be seventy this summer. She smiled at him, and Charlie wanted to lean over and kiss her. He told her about his father's teaching career, and that he had taught American history at Harvard. He wondered if he and Mr. Palmer had ever met, and then he told her about his trips to Deerfield as a child, and his passion for the buildings there, and his fascination with the glacial potholes in the huge boulders in the Deerfield River.

I still remember them, he explained, as she poured another cup of tea for him, and began bustling around her kitchen, and then she turned to him with a warm smile. She felt completely safe with him. He looked entirely wholesome, and was obviously well behaved and very well mannered. She wondered why he was traveling alone during the holidays, and was surprised he had no family to be with, but she said nothing about that as she looked at him with a question.

Would you like to stay here, Mr. Waterston? It's no trouble for me. I can easily open one of my guest rooms. As she said it, she glanced outside again. The snow was falling furiously, and she would have felt unkind putting him on the road again, besides, she liked him and enjoyed his company. She hoped that he would accept her invitation.

Are you sure it wouldn't be too much trouble for you? He had seen the storm outside too, and he wasn't anxious to move on. He also particularly enjoyed her. She was like a glimpse into the past, and at the same time she seemed to have a firm grip on the present, and he was basking in the warmth of her company, as he nodded. I don't want to be a nuisance. If you had other plans, you don't need to pay any attention to me. But I'd very much like to stay, if you don't mind. It was a sweet minuet between them, and a few minutes later, she took him upstairs and showed him around. The house was beautifully built throughout, and he was more intrigued by how it was built than in seeing his accommodations, but when he saw the room she planned for him, he stood in the doorway and smiled for a long moment. It was like coming home as a child. The bed was huge, the fabrics worn, but all of it was beautifully made. The room was done in blue and white chintz, and there was lovely old china displayed on the mantelpiece, a ship model on the wall, and there were several old, very fine Moran paintings of ships on smooth seas and in storms. It was a room he would have loved to spend a year in. And like the other rooms he'd seen so far, it had a large fireplace, and there were logs standing by, ready to be used. Everything in the house seemed precise and well kept, as though she were expecting her favorite relatives or a house full of guests at any moment.

This is just lovely, he said gratefully, looking at her warmly. It had been kind of her to take him in, and he appreciated both her hospitality and her effort. And she seemed pleased to see how much he liked it. She loved sharing her home with people who appreciated fine tilings, and understood what she was sharing with them. Most of the people who stayed with her came by recommendation. She didn't advertise, and it was only in the past year that she'd put out a shingle.

For seven years, taking in paying guests had assisted with her funds, and the people who stayed with her kept her company, and kept her from being too lonely. She had been dreading the holidays, and having Charlie appear at her door had been a godsend.

I'm glad you like the house, Mr. Waterston. He was examining the paintings in his room as she spoke to him, and he turned to her with a look of pleasure.

I can't imagine anyone not loving it, he said reverently, and she laughed, thinking of her son. There was a wistful look in her eyes when she spoke of him, but also an unmistakable spark of humor.

I can. My son hated everything about this town, and all my old things. He loved all things modern. He was a pilot. He flew in Viet Nam, and when he came home, he stayed in the Navy. He was a test pilot for all their most high-tech fighters. He loved flying. There was something about the way she said it that made him afraid to ask, and a look in her eyes that said the subject was very painful. But nonetheless, she continued. There was something about the way she moved, and looked at him, that told him the one thing Gladys Palmer didn't lack was courage. He and his wife both flew. They bought a small plane after their little girl was born. There were tears in her bright blue eyes as she looked at Charlie, but she didn't waver. I didn't think it was a good idea, but you have to let your children do as they wish. They wouldn't have listened if I had tried to stop them. They crashed near Deerfield fourteen years ago, when they were coming home for a visit. All three of them were in the plane, and they died on impact. Charlie felt a lump grow in his throat as he listened, and instinctively he reached a hand out to her and touched her arm, wanting to stop the words and the pain. He couldn't imagine anything worse, not even what he had experienced with Carole. This woman had been through so much more, and he couldn't help wondering if she had more children.

I'm so sony, he whispered. His hand was still on her arm, and neither of them noticed it, as their eyes met and held. He felt as though he had known her forever.

So am I. He was a wonderful man. He was thirty-six when he died, and his little girl was only five ' it was a terrible loss. She sighed and wiped her eyes, as he wished that he could put his arms around her. And then she looked up at him, and what he saw in her eyes made his breath catch. There was such openness, such bravery, such willingness to reach out to him despite the pain she'd suffered. I suppose we learn something from sorrow. I'm not sure what it is, and it took me a long time. It was ten years before I could talk about it. My husband never could. He was never really well after that. He had a bad heart, even when he was young. He died three years later. She had suffered far greater losses than he had, and he could still see the scars, they were clearly visible, yet she was still there, standing sure and firm, unwilling to be beaten by the hard blows life had dealt her. And he couldn't help wondering if their paths had crossed for a reason. It was so odd that he had come here.

Do you have other ' other relatives? He was embarrassed suddenly to ask if she had other children, as though her lost son could be replaced easily by his siblings, although they both knew he couldn't.

None, she smiled at him, and what struck him again was how alive she was. There was nothing bitter or sad or depressed about this woman. I'm all alone now. I have been for eleven years. That's why I started taking in guests during the summer. Otherwise, I think I might have been very lonely. But it was hard to imagine that. She seemed far too lively to wither away, or lock herself up and pine for those she had lost. There was an aura of energy and life all around her. I would have hated to waste this house too. It's so wonderful, it seemed a terrible shame not to share it. My son James ' Jimmy and Kathleen would never have wanted it. I suppose eventually, even if he'd lived, I'd have had to sell it. It seemed a terrible shame just hearing about it, and she had no one to leave her treasures to now. It was the same boat he was going to find himself in one day if he didn't do something about his life, marry again, and have children. But none of it appealed to him, even for a minute. He had no desire to many again, or live with another woman. And you? She looked at him before leaving the room. Do you have a family, Mr. Waterston? He was the right age to be married and have several children. She guessed him to be slightly younger than he was. She thought he was about Jimmy's age. But at forty-two, he should certainly have been well settled.

No, I don't, Charlie said softly. Like you, I have no one. My parents died a long time ago. And I've never had children.

She seemed surprised, and she wondered if there was something about his sexuality that had eluded her, but she didn't think she had missed that. Have you never been married? That actually amazed her. He seemed far too attractive and too warm to have avoided a permanent relationship, but when she saw his eyes, she realized there was more to the story.