“Melisandra could have easily slipped off her shoe under the table. You know the most surprising things.”
“Yes, I do,” Phil said. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Did I tell you about staying at Aunt Frankie’s haunted house? I was about nine. While my little sister Kathy had her tonsils out, I stayed with my aunt Frankie, a big cheerful blonde. She was renovating a house in south St. Louis. Beautiful place, built in 1904. The neighbors said it was haunted by an old woman who’d died when she fell down the staircase. They claimed her ghost walked those stairs and hung around the guest room, reading over people’s shoulders.”
“Makes the afterlife sound pretty boring,” Phil said.
“Maybe, but the neighborhood kids wanted to hold a séance there on Halloween. I wasn’t used to old houses with creaky floors and dark wood,” Helen said, “and I was scared to sleep in the haunted room. Aunt Frankie promised there was no ghost, and said if I kept the bedroom door open she’d be right down the hall.
“Late that night, there was a wild storm—lightning, thunder, howling wind. My room had one of those old pocket doors thatslide into the walls, and the door started closing all by itself. I was too scared to scream. Aunt Frankie ran in to check on me and saw me shaking and shivering. She hugged me and said the wind made the door move.
“
Everything in this old house is off-kilter,
she said
. It’s drafty. That ghost is nothing but a breeze.
Sure enough, when Aunt Frankie got storm windows, the ghost went away.”
Helen tried to hide a yawn.
“Is it the company?” he asked.
“It’s the time,” Helen said. “It’s one o’clock. I have to go in early tomorrow and catch a ghost. A live one.”
CHAPTER 15
A lexa looks like a ghost this morning, Helen thought, as the library director unlocked the staff entrance door.
Alexa managed a weak smile, but her tailored lavender suit was the same color as the circles under her eyes. She looked pale, and her dark hair was frizzy and lifeless.
“Helen,” she said, and forced another smile. “Come in and let me introduce you to Seraphina Ormond, a good friend of Elizabeth Kingsley. She’s in the reading room and she wants to meet you.” Alexa toyed with that lock of white hair, another sign something was off.
“Uh, we already met,” Helen said. “In the parking lot two days ago. And she wasn’t very happy with me.”
“I know,” Alexa said. “But I think she wants to make amends. And I need her. Please, Helen? I’ve been working on her and I think I can bring her around so she’ll head the fund-raiser if the board approves the building restoration.”
“Okay,” Helen said. “At least we’ll be meeting in public here in the library.”
“Thank you,” Alexa said.
“You seem tired,” Helen said.
“I am,” Alexa said, “and worried about our library. How will last night’s séance affect our already divided board? I want to save our library, too, but that séance will only make our problems worse.”
The library director sighed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. Mrs. Ormond is waiting. Follow me. After your chat, please come to my office. I need to talk to you.”
About what? Helen wondered. There must be another problem. Alexa’s been wrestling with the fate of the library for weeks now.
She saw Seraphina Ormond browsing large-print books in a corner near the entrance.
Your basic rich blonde, Helen thought. Tall, fit, obnoxiously thin, with hair the color of dry champagne.
Seraphina wore tennis whites and socks with little balls so they wouldn’t slide into her tennis shoes. Her skin was tanned from hours on the tennis court.
“Helen Hawthorne, meet Seraphina Ormond,” Alexa said. “Seraphina is one of our most generous donors.”
Seraphina presented her hand as if it was an honor to shake it. Her grip was strong and firm, but her smile didn’t quite reach her pale blue eyes.
“Helen,” she
“Yes, I do,” Phil said. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Did I tell you about staying at Aunt Frankie’s haunted house? I was about nine. While my little sister Kathy had her tonsils out, I stayed with my aunt Frankie, a big cheerful blonde. She was renovating a house in south St. Louis. Beautiful place, built in 1904. The neighbors said it was haunted by an old woman who’d died when she fell down the staircase. They claimed her ghost walked those stairs and hung around the guest room, reading over people’s shoulders.”
“Makes the afterlife sound pretty boring,” Phil said.
“Maybe, but the neighborhood kids wanted to hold a séance there on Halloween. I wasn’t used to old houses with creaky floors and dark wood,” Helen said, “and I was scared to sleep in the haunted room. Aunt Frankie promised there was no ghost, and said if I kept the bedroom door open she’d be right down the hall.
“Late that night, there was a wild storm—lightning, thunder, howling wind. My room had one of those old pocket doors thatslide into the walls, and the door started closing all by itself. I was too scared to scream. Aunt Frankie ran in to check on me and saw me shaking and shivering. She hugged me and said the wind made the door move.
“
Everything in this old house is off-kilter,
she said
. It’s drafty. That ghost is nothing but a breeze.
Sure enough, when Aunt Frankie got storm windows, the ghost went away.”
Helen tried to hide a yawn.
“Is it the company?” he asked.
“It’s the time,” Helen said. “It’s one o’clock. I have to go in early tomorrow and catch a ghost. A live one.”
CHAPTER 15
A lexa looks like a ghost this morning, Helen thought, as the library director unlocked the staff entrance door.
Alexa managed a weak smile, but her tailored lavender suit was the same color as the circles under her eyes. She looked pale, and her dark hair was frizzy and lifeless.
“Helen,” she said, and forced another smile. “Come in and let me introduce you to Seraphina Ormond, a good friend of Elizabeth Kingsley. She’s in the reading room and she wants to meet you.” Alexa toyed with that lock of white hair, another sign something was off.
“Uh, we already met,” Helen said. “In the parking lot two days ago. And she wasn’t very happy with me.”
“I know,” Alexa said. “But I think she wants to make amends. And I need her. Please, Helen? I’ve been working on her and I think I can bring her around so she’ll head the fund-raiser if the board approves the building restoration.”
“Okay,” Helen said. “At least we’ll be meeting in public here in the library.”
“Thank you,” Alexa said.
“You seem tired,” Helen said.
“I am,” Alexa said, “and worried about our library. How will last night’s séance affect our already divided board? I want to save our library, too, but that séance will only make our problems worse.”
The library director sighed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. Mrs. Ormond is waiting. Follow me. After your chat, please come to my office. I need to talk to you.”
About what? Helen wondered. There must be another problem. Alexa’s been wrestling with the fate of the library for weeks now.
She saw Seraphina Ormond browsing large-print books in a corner near the entrance.
Your basic rich blonde, Helen thought. Tall, fit, obnoxiously thin, with hair the color of dry champagne.
Seraphina wore tennis whites and socks with little balls so they wouldn’t slide into her tennis shoes. Her skin was tanned from hours on the tennis court.
“Helen Hawthorne, meet Seraphina Ormond,” Alexa said. “Seraphina is one of our most generous donors.”
Seraphina presented her hand as if it was an honor to shake it. Her grip was strong and firm, but her smile didn’t quite reach her pale blue eyes.
“Helen,” she
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