Phantoms Trilogy

BOOK ONE: GHOST OF A PROMISE

Ava swallowed hard, trying to hold her tears back. She should've been ready for this reading of Aunt Lois's will, but now that it was here, the finality of losing her aunt hit hard. Across the long, polished mahogany table, the family attorney, Fred Sawyer, sat at the head, staring her down.

God, what the heck was taking so long? Acid was eating away the lining of her stomach already.

She went back to her sketch design ideas for the B&B's logo, hoping to distract herself from the ache in her chest. The B&B she might not get to open if this meeting didn't go well. Should she go with an elegant font? Something swirly, or would that be too feminine? Block letters just seemed too bold, too out there. Pushy. She didn't want to be pushy. She wanted guests to come in and curl up in a chair with a book and a cup of something sweet. Tea or cider, or fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Since she was six years old and had first set foot inside the Trumble mansion, her great-aunt had promised Ava would inherit the old house. She loved Aunt Lois. She really did. The woman had more bats in her belfry than the Batcave could ever hope to produce, but she was good to Ava. She missed their long conversations, making plans for the B&B Aunt Lois had encouraged her to open.

Forcing down the lump in her throat, she continued her sketch to get her mind off the wait and the nerves causing a riot.

From the seat next to her, Mom fidgeted. Her parents had come with her today for moral support, but she knew they didn't want her to inherit the mansion. Neither one wanted anything to do with the family grounds. They believed, as did everyone else in the small town of Kerrick, Maine, that the Trumble mansion was haunted. Not just haunted, but no-one-ever-sets-foot-inside-and-lives-to-tell-the-tale haunted.

Ridiculous. For argument's sake, it was really just men who had the unfortunate luck of maybe-sometimes-having strange "accidents" leading to death on the estate. Women were relatively safe. Relatively. Assuming she believed in the claims of spirits.

Which she did.

She was as likely to admit that aloud as she was to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, though. Kerrick-population: don't blink or you'll miss it-could go right on making up stories for all she cared. At least she'd never get robbed.

Sitting directly across from her parents were the Hansens. Evil, wretched people who were on the Kerrick Historical Society. Thus, her big worry. They'd been after the Trumble mansion for years, and couldn't wait to pounce on the chance the house would be deeded to the society. They were both in their late sixties, with more salt than pepper in their hair. Their thin, angular faces never cracked a smile, and they sat like broomsticks had been shoved up their-

"Fred, come on," she sniffled again. "Can we pretty please get on with this?"

His eyes narrowed, but he showed no other outward sign of irritation. "It's Mr. Sawyer now, Ava."

Uh huh. Fred went to elementary and high school with her, what seemed like so very long ago now. She'd never call him "'Mr. Sawyer'" on principle. Plus, she was certain she'd kissed him once on a dare but couldn't remember if it was any good. Unlikely, since she couldn't remember. A girl never forgot a great kiss.

She hadn't had a great kiss in a decade.

Before she could say anything more, his secretary strolled in carrying a box of donuts and a carafe of coffee to a cart in the corner.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. Would anyone like some refreshments?" Her voice was two octaves above human hearing.

Ava resisted the urge to bang her head against the table. Knocking herself unconscious would only delay the reading of her great-aunt's will.

"Right," Fred said, coffee in hand, and glanced at the papers in front of him as if he didn't know what they said. "Lois Elizabeth Trumble's last will and testament. 'It is my wish to be buried in the cemetery plot on the Trumble estate-'"

She closed her eyes. Aunt Lois' funeral was last week, thus making her burial requests moot. Fred had been in Barbados on vacation at the time, which was why the will reading was a week late. She must have made a sound of agitation.

"Sugarpea," her mother cooed in her thick, southern accent, and patted her hand as if to say, Now, now. Good things come to those who wait.

Mom had been born in the not-so-great state of Mississippi and hadn't moved north until she'd met Dad in college. She still refused to believe herself a Yankee.

Ava bit back another sigh. "I'm sorry, guys. I'm just...stressed. Please continue."

Her face heated and she sucked in a deep breath to calm down. She wasn't this person. Fred meant well, as did her parents. Okay, maybe she had a teensy-weensy bit of a temper problem, but it rarely showed itself, and she'd been dreaming of this moment her whole life. She had plans for that house. Big plans. When Aunt Lois had been on her deathbed, she'd said something very strange. Something that stuck with Ava until right this very moment, causing many sleepless nights and jarring her more than any ghost.

Don't be angry with me when they read the will, Ava. It's time to figure it out. Time for a change.

Fred cleared his throat, apparently ready to continue. "'I hereby leave my bonds and whatever stocks remain to my nephew, Albert Trumble. To his wife, Marjorie Trumble, I leave all of my jewelry and costume pieces, with the instructions that the heirlooms not be sold, but kept in the family.'" Fred sighed and leaned back in his chair to take a sip of coffee as if this was the most exertion he'd made all day. "'Lastly, I leave the Trumble family mansion, estate, and grounds to my great-niece, Ava Trumble."

Ava stood and hunched over in relief.

"'With the stipulation that-'" Fred paused.

"Stipulation? What stipulation?" She groped for her chair and plopped back down, becoming anxiously deflated already.

Fred looked at her and then quickly to the paper he held. "'With the stipulation she uncover the mystery of what really happened to Sarah Kerrick within a year of my death.'"

Mom gasped.

Dad laughed.

Was this a joke? Ava waited for the punch line. "What?"

Fred heaved a dramatic sigh. "She wants you to investigate what happened to Sarah Kerrick. If you uncover a viable scenario to her disappearance within the year, then the house is yours."

A really, really effed-up joke. "So, let me get this straight." She spoke slowly, as much for her benefit as for the others present. "I'm supposed to investigate the disappearance of a woman from more than two-hundred-and-thirty years ago?"

"Within the year." Fred gave a definitive nod.

"Absurd!" Then she realized the latter part of the stipulation. "Or what? What happens if I don't find something within the year?"

"Then the deed to the mansion and property will be transferred to the Kerrick Historical Society."

Oh God. All her dreams...Poof. Her hands shook with such force she fisted them to hide the tremor.

She looked at the Hansens, both looking smug and superior. They'd wanted to turn the house into a museum for twenty years now, hounding her great-aunt constantly. A freakin' museum. And they liked to contort history to embellish legend, like claiming her ancestor, Peter Trumble, had killed Sarah Kerrick, when there had been no facts to back up that claim.

No. No way were they getting the estate. Over her dead body.

"But that house has been in the Trumble family for more than two centuries."

"Sorry, Ava." Fred shrugged. "Your great-aunt's wishes."

This wasn't a joke. It was a nightmare. "Who deems whatever information I uncover to be viable? You said, 'a viable scenario.'"

Fred grinned, and her blood turned to ice. "That would be me. Your great-aunt left specific instructions as to what would qualify as viable information."

Ava clenched her fists tighter. "For instance?" she ground through gritted teeth.

"Finding Sarah Kerrick's remains, her supposed journals, evidence on film of a ghostly reenactment of her death. That kind of thing."

"That kind of..." She snapped her mouth shut. Sat quiet for a beat. Panic was quickly turning into hysteria. "This isn't some Hollywood horror story, Fred. What am I supposed to do? Dig up the cellar for her bones? Walk around with a camera whispering, 'Did you hear that?'" She crossed her arms, full snarkiness emanating, her blessed natural defense. "No, no, I've got it. I should tear down the walls to find a secret journal that isn't even reputably proven in existence!"

Fred stood up. "All great ideas. See, this won't be so hard."

Her dad wrapped an arm around her waist. "Come on, honey." Though his voice was gentle as always, amusement laced his tone.

She strode out of the conference room with her parents and into the small lobby, then pushed past the glass door and onto Trumble Street. She drew in a lungful of air.

This wasn't happening.

The main drag in the town square, named after her ancestors, was quiet for midday. A few patrons walked the cobblestone sidewalks, window shopping in the quaint shops or sitting outside at café tables and benches chatting. Curbside, dried cornstalks were fastened around the Belle Chase century lampposts. Between the posts, flower boxes encasing mature oaks were decorated with pumpkins and gourds. Though only September, red and orange leaves contrasted the cobalt sky and fell to the ground.

Mom struggled into her fleece jacket as they stood on the sidewalk. "Maybe this is for the best, sugarpea. That house is a curse, and Lois knew it. I don't think she wanted you to fall into the same trap. I think she gave you a year to come to terms with it and to say good-bye."

Ava looked into her mom's kind, green eyes and knew she meant well. "I'm still not giving up the house, even if you think it's a curse."

Her father barked out a laugh, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepening. "What are you going to do, honey? Call the Ghostbusters?"

She opened her mouth, but swiftly shut it again. That wasn't a half-bad idea.

Okay, so she wouldn't be dialing up Bill Murray anytime soon, but paranormal investigations were popular right now. There weren't a lot of other choices. A year was a long time, but not nearly long enough to go back more than two-hundred years to find information on what, up until now, had been mostly legend and rumor. She'd need all the help she could get, even if it was a crazy notion.

God, Aunt Lois, what were you thinking?

"I'll see you guys later." Ideas were already forming. "I love you."

"You call us if you need anything," her mom said.

Unless it involves coming within twenty feet of the Trumble mansion.

Ava hugged each of them. They walked in the opposite direction she was going. Around the town center and small shops were several subdivisions woven like a broken cobweb. Her parents' cozy ranch home was only a few blocks away on one of those intricate streets.

Kerrick got a lot of tourists in June through October. Right before she was born, just inside the city limits and next to a still-functioning lighthouse, a three-story hotel had been erected to support the tourism market. Several seafood restaurants soon followed, and an inn as well.

Ava hoped to tap into that. She'd wanted to convert the mansion into a B&B since graduating college with her business degree. Hotels were fine, but inns and B&Bs were cozier. The location couldn't be any more ideal. Right on the cliffs, smack in the center of town, and within walking distance to just about everything.

A steady stream of guests meant she'd never be lonely.

She sighed and started walking the two blocks east toward the mansion. She could all but see the puff of smoke her dreams went up in.

Pulling out her cell, she dialed Casey. Maybe her best friend would have some ideas. If nothing else, she'd offer support. Lord knew Ava needed all the support she could get.

"How did it go?" her friend asked, by way of greeting.

Ava glanced at her feet and told Casey what had happened at the reading.

A long pause followed.

"I'm sorry."

"You've got three sons, Casey. You know how to disinfect a cell phone and get magic marker out of polyester, and that's all you've got?"

A clamoring of screeching came from the background. "Go outside if you insist on torturing your brother. I can't hear Auntie Ava."

"What do I do, Casey?"

This was answered by wailing and crying. By the sound of it, it came from her youngest. "Light sabers are not to smack your brother with." She sighed. "I'll need to think about it. I can't come up with anything right now. The kids are wild today. Dan's parents are popping in for a visit."

Which meant Casey was trying to clean the house faster than the boys could disrupt it to impress the in-laws. Ava didn't need to pile more on her friend's plate.

"I'll call you later. Thanks, Casey. Kiss the boys for me."

"Throttle them? Sure. On it. Oh, and Ava?"

"Yeah?" She laughed.

"It'll be okay. I promise."

She said good-bye and hung up, grateful for the one person in her corner. She glanced around. No one appeared to be listening. Most of the town seemed to be getting a jump on holiday shopping.

At the end of the cul-de-sac, only wide enough for two cars to pass, she crossed the narrow street and opened the ten-foot wrought-iron gate blocking the drive and walked through. She hadn't bothered locking it when she'd left, but she was in the habit of closing it. Saltwater was strong in the brisk air from just on the other side of the jagged cliffs where the mansion resided. The roar of the waves hitting rock soothed her nerves.

Ava drew in a deep breath to compose herself as she strode up the long brick-laid driveway. Leaves crunched beneath her feet as she made her way around the house to the back door.

"I'm home." Her voice echoed off the kitchen walls.

Not that anyone was there to hear her. She lived alone now that Aunt Lois was gone, but it was a habit her great-aunt abided by to announce herself when stepping inside the house. Mustn't spook the spirits, she'd said.

Be that as it may, she never felt alone in the house. Even now, she sensed something with her, watching. Not an uneasy feeling, as it seemed maternal. Loving. The only peace she got was inside this massive tower of a house. And now it could be taken away. Just like that.

Without haste, she dropped her keys on the counter and walked straight through the house toward the library. After booting up the computer, she sat down to formulate a plan to save her family home.