Lexington House has a truly ghastly and grim history—the farm out in Andover had one bad thing happen, even if it was pretty bad. And that’s recent. People like historic ghosts much more than modern ghosts. Unless, of course, it’s a modern celebrity ghost. Everyone wants to stay at that Hard Rock in Florida in the room where Anna Nicole Smith died. But no one knew Peter Andres. Oh, come on, you don’t need to be a psychiatrist to notice the way that people just are! ”
“So, historically, we all know about the Lexington family, and the Braden family after them—so the house was worth a good deal if you want to open a tourist attraction,” Sam said.
“Oh, yes, of course. I think that the woman I was telling you about—Samantha Yeager—wanted the house for work. She’s kind of a newcomer—okay, she’s from as far away as Plymouth—but she reads tarot cards and does palm readings, sells cards, herbs and all the same stuff that we do. Yeah, yeah, I remember someone saying that she said it looks like the Lizzie Borden place, which is now like a B and B or something.”
“People would go to her rather than someone else for the ambience of the house?” Jenna asked drily.
“Of course! I’ll bet you it will be worth a mint now. Hey, the Smith kid will be able to pay you, Sam, if they sell it,” Cecilia said cheerfully.
“I’m doing the work pro bono,” Sam told her.
“Well, that’s kind of you, to help such a nutty kid.”
“I guess that’s universally accepted?” Jenna asked.
They both stared at her.
“Universally, as in locally, I mean,” Jenna said.
Cecilia nodded. “It’s like knowing about kooks anywhere you live, you know. Everybody knew that family—although, usually we didn’t give them all much thought. And, of course, in this area, Lexington House is legendary. Everyone thought it fitting that the Smiths lived there.” She grinned. “And, of course, in Salem, you have all the curiosity seekers who come to see what modern witches look like! It may be ‘Witch City,’ but we’re still the minority. I mean, we should be the alternative people. The Smith family made us all seem part of the same fabric in a way….” Cecilia was thoughtful a minute. “You know, if it weren’t backward…”
“If what weren’t backward?” Sam asked quickly.
“Well, I’m trying to remember. My sister just started teaching at the high school, so all she knows is what others say about the past, but if I remember this correctly—and you should definitely check me out, because I’m just giving you hearsay or whatever—but Peter Andres was vocal about Abraham Smith. He said that Smith had his own money, and that he was still collecting some kind of disability. That he was a drain on the taxpayers, was the epitome of the worst of the system—stuff like that. He stood up for Malachi, but he hated Abraham. Malachi, of course, always defended his father.”
“What did Abraham have to say about that?” Jenna asked.
Cecilia shrugged. “Nothing—nothing that I know about. But he wasn’t the kind to have a drink and chat at the bars!” she said. She smiled at them. “A lot of the merchants around here are actually good friends, and if we don’t like each other—or don’t always share the same philosophy or vision—we still support one another. We get together to plan Halloween activities, we work with the city and the museums. That’s how we stay afloat through the cold, icy winter when tourism isn’t so plentiful! So, yes, of course, we chat when we stop at the brewery or one of the bars, and we usually do hear what’s going on around town. You know back when that incident happened at the high school, some argued that Andy and Cindy Yates had a crazy kid themselves, and even some smart people said that suggestion could cause people to do very strange things. Kind of like you can brainwash yourself. Then, the other half of the people argued on the superstitious side. There was
“So, historically, we all know about the Lexington family, and the Braden family after them—so the house was worth a good deal if you want to open a tourist attraction,” Sam said.
“Oh, yes, of course. I think that the woman I was telling you about—Samantha Yeager—wanted the house for work. She’s kind of a newcomer—okay, she’s from as far away as Plymouth—but she reads tarot cards and does palm readings, sells cards, herbs and all the same stuff that we do. Yeah, yeah, I remember someone saying that she said it looks like the Lizzie Borden place, which is now like a B and B or something.”
“People would go to her rather than someone else for the ambience of the house?” Jenna asked drily.
“Of course! I’ll bet you it will be worth a mint now. Hey, the Smith kid will be able to pay you, Sam, if they sell it,” Cecilia said cheerfully.
“I’m doing the work pro bono,” Sam told her.
“Well, that’s kind of you, to help such a nutty kid.”
“I guess that’s universally accepted?” Jenna asked.
They both stared at her.
“Universally, as in locally, I mean,” Jenna said.
Cecilia nodded. “It’s like knowing about kooks anywhere you live, you know. Everybody knew that family—although, usually we didn’t give them all much thought. And, of course, in this area, Lexington House is legendary. Everyone thought it fitting that the Smiths lived there.” She grinned. “And, of course, in Salem, you have all the curiosity seekers who come to see what modern witches look like! It may be ‘Witch City,’ but we’re still the minority. I mean, we should be the alternative people. The Smith family made us all seem part of the same fabric in a way….” Cecilia was thoughtful a minute. “You know, if it weren’t backward…”
“If what weren’t backward?” Sam asked quickly.
“Well, I’m trying to remember. My sister just started teaching at the high school, so all she knows is what others say about the past, but if I remember this correctly—and you should definitely check me out, because I’m just giving you hearsay or whatever—but Peter Andres was vocal about Abraham Smith. He said that Smith had his own money, and that he was still collecting some kind of disability. That he was a drain on the taxpayers, was the epitome of the worst of the system—stuff like that. He stood up for Malachi, but he hated Abraham. Malachi, of course, always defended his father.”
“What did Abraham have to say about that?” Jenna asked.
Cecilia shrugged. “Nothing—nothing that I know about. But he wasn’t the kind to have a drink and chat at the bars!” she said. She smiled at them. “A lot of the merchants around here are actually good friends, and if we don’t like each other—or don’t always share the same philosophy or vision—we still support one another. We get together to plan Halloween activities, we work with the city and the museums. That’s how we stay afloat through the cold, icy winter when tourism isn’t so plentiful! So, yes, of course, we chat when we stop at the brewery or one of the bars, and we usually do hear what’s going on around town. You know back when that incident happened at the high school, some argued that Andy and Cindy Yates had a crazy kid themselves, and even some smart people said that suggestion could cause people to do very strange things. Kind of like you can brainwash yourself. Then, the other half of the people argued on the superstitious side. There was
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