Saturdays were french toast and bacon days, Sundays were reserved for breakfast tacos. It only took a few weeks for Taylor and Madeline to perfect not only a few recipes, but a system for feeding thirty or more people in a sitting while retaining a semblance of sanity. God forbid, they were even starting to have a bit of fun-chatting with guests, giving tourist advice (although they had never actually had time to visit any attractions yet), and generally feeling at home. The house didn’t even seem so overwhelming anymore-they found out how to turn the heater on (and found out they had four of them), whipped the kitchen into a better condition, and painted over the horrible red, yellow, and green walls.
“Those colors are historic, mom,” Taylor had noted ironically before the painting started.
“I don’t care. They give me a headache,” Madeline responded. “I’m sure that the curtains were historic, too, and you didn’t complain when I ripped them all down.
“They were dust magnets. I can overlook some historical sacrilege for the sake of clear sinus passages.”
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“So tell us about the history of this place. It seems so very interestingā¦” Today the question was asked by Joyce, a lovely older lady visiting from the UK with her friend Emily. But the question didn’t seem to be asked with excitement, but rather with trepidation.
“Well, the main house was constructed in 1769, and the property was used as a dairy farm for more than 200 years before becoming an inn.” Madeline continued her well-rehearsed narrative summarizing the history of the property that Taylor had put together. The property was certainly interesting – it had been an alcohol rehab facility, an art school, a college dorm, and the community theater.
“Oh – have you decided if you want to stay an additional night or not?” Madeline ended the history before anyone got bored. “I haven’t seen the Silvermans this morning-did y’all have a chance to discuss your plans last night?”
“We’d like to stay,” Joyce replied. “But we need to ask if there is a way to keep people from coming and going so late at night? It was startling to hear someone clomping about on the stairs and in the attic at that hour.”
“Above you?” Madeline was confused.
“It sounded like they were moving the furniture around. At first we thought it was Fred and Jane next door, but when I knocked on their door to ask them to be a bit more considerate, Dr. Silverman was all worked up about how we were stomping up and down the staircase and somehow had gotten up in the ceiling.”
Madeline felt an unpleasant, familiar quiver in her stomach.
“Well, we all realized that none of us were guilty of the inconsiderate behavior, and retired to our rooms. We certainly locked the door carefully, I’ll tell you what! Emily was looking for a knife to stab the intruder!”
Emily nodded in agreement.
“That is very odd – we don’t keep anything in that at-” Madeline froze. There was no attic in the carriage house.
“What were you saying dear?” Emily asked.
“Just that we don’t store anything up there-perhaps there was a raccoon or squirrel running around? I think there are a family of chipmunksā¦” Madeline wasn’t even convincing herself.
“That was no rodent. I had a rodent, I know what they sound like. This was someone on the stairs, on the landing, and finally above our heads. Clear footfalls. Door knob rattling. It was slightly disconcerting.”
“Only slightly?” Madeline replied-admiring the British talent for understatement.
“I’m not an alarmist dear, but maybe you should ask your neighbors if they had their kids running wild last night. Because if the noises weren’t made by a living person then you have a whole other problem.”
Oh good lord. I’ll never escape the ghosts. Madeline thought. But it is an odd story ā¦
“I will certainly talk to the neighbors-and I’ll also talk to a wildlife relocation company. Sounds like we might need to encourage some unwanted guests to leave.” Madeline tried to lighten the mood.
She spent then next hour cooking, cleaning the kitchen, and checking guests out when they were ready to go. Emily and Joyce had decided to move on to better leaf peeping a bit South, and several other rooms needed to be turned over for new guests arriving that day.
It’s going to be another long one, Madeline thought. I can’t wait until Michael is here to share in all this fun. And he’ll put a stop to this paranormal paranoia.
Just as she reset the most popular table (a table for two, by the picture window with a view of the pond and the Japanese maple) Fred and Jane Silverman walked in.
“Looks like y’all are getting a late start today-I hope you slept OKā¦?” Madeline asked, even though she was afraid of the answer.
“We most certainly did not. There were some hooligans running up and down the staircase – and even in the attic – at all hours. We’ve been staying here for 29 years and never had anything like this happen.” Dr. Silverman’s voice was practically a growl.
“What did these hooligans do?” Madeline tried to sound innocent.
Fred and Jane told almost the exact same story. Even blaming the lovely British ladies across the hall.
“I will definitely get to the bottom of this,” Madeline reassured Fred and Jane. “And keep you posted.”