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It had been three days, two visits to the police station, and one trip to the emergency room since the ordeal at The Bartlett.
Gera had finally slept.
She thought that a full night’s sleep would do her good. Thought it would clear the cobwebs from her mind. That it would explain the shadows that lingered in her head and distorted the details from that night.
She hadn’t told Jake yet, not about the shadow she thought she had seen that night. How could she? How could she explain it to someone else, when she couldn’t explain it to herself?
There had to be a logical explanation for what happened, for what she saw, but Gera hadn’t found it yet.
The official police report listed Billy Boy Macandie’s death as a freak accident, the unfortunate result of being caught in a collapsing structure. Force of gravity somehow slung his body against the wall, resulting in impalement. The same gravity that killed one person delivered another safely to the ground, unscathed in the fall. The theory wouldn’t hold up under close scrutiny—most notably, the impalement was vertical, not horizontal—but who would question it? The only person to mourn Billy Boy’s death was his mother, and she was hardly surprised to hear of his untimely end.
As for what Gera saw that night? It had been an optical illusion. A play on light and shadow, causing an unexplained mirror image of Billy Boy’s silhouette as he masqueraded as Mac’s ghost. Heightened, of course, by nerves and an intense fear for her own personal safety.
It was the only explanation she could accept, for the alternative was impossible.
Gera didn’t believe in ghosts.
And while she appreciated Jake’s unwavering support, he had hovered over her the past three days, stifling her with his constant concern. Was she comfortable? Did she need another pillow? Could he rub her back, or her feet, or draw her a hot, soaking bath? His intentions were good, his administrations sweet and noble, but she needed space to breathe. Space to put things into perspective.
The best place to think, to breathe, was the mountainside terrace. She had been cooped up long enough.
It was a glorious day, beautiful and sunny, and the view from here was always incredible. Gera found her favorite table among the flowering gardens and sat down with her morning coffee.
Gera mulled the facts of that night over in her head, but it always came down to one thing.
I don’t believe in ghosts.
No, seriously, I don’t.
She ignored the waver in her own convictions, no matter how insubstantial it might be.
It was quite some time later when she heard Minnie’s voice and knew her friend had once again sneaked into the garden without her even knowing it.
“Hello, dear.”
No longer surprised by the old woman’s appearance, Gera smiled. “How do you do that? I never even hear you come up.”
“You were deep in thought,” Minnie explained. Her pale face wrinkled in concern, and her intensely blue eyes zeroed in on Gera’s face. “I understand you’ve had quite the ordeal of late.”
Gera released a mighty sigh. “You could say that.”
“But you got your story, dear. And what a fantastic one it was!”
“You were right, Minnie, about the hidden hoards of gold, or at least the rumor thereof. Publicly, all the police are saying is that Grant had a scheme to own prime property here upon the mountain.”
“But he was really after the hidden hoards.” It was a statement, not a question.
“That won’t be mentioned in my article,” she assured her friend. “Don’t worry, I remember what you told me, about there being more at stake than just selling an article. That whole lives, and family legacies, could be destroyed if the rumors were encouraged to spread. And you were right.”
Gera heaved another sigh. “Did you know he started by killing the man next door? He started this whole crazy, evil scheme almost ten years ago, by smothering the poor man in his sleep. The bank got the title to the house and he started digging up the yard, looking for the gold. And then he pushed the owner of this very hotel to her death, thinking he could do the same here. Honestly, I don’t know how Abe and Ruth managed to escape the death toll until now. Did you know them, by the way? The man next door and Minerva Cody?”
“Oh, quite well, my dear,” Minnie replied.
“Her grandson runs the hotel now. We’re... involved.” Gera stared off into the distance, studying the magnificent canyons along the valley floor. She confided in the old woman, as much as she admitted to her own self, “I could fancy myself in love with him, but... how? I’ve known him barely over a week.”
“Ah, Jake is a good man. Handsome, too, like his father, and his father before him. There is something quite special about those Cody men. They’re men of integrity. You would be lucky to have a man like that in your life, Gera dear.”
“I know, but... he would want to stay here, on this mountain, keeping his family legacy for perpetuity. I have a career. Out there.” She waved her arm to the wide expanse of space beyond Mingus Mountain.
“You make it sound as if they’re two separate worlds. You’re a writer. You already travel as it is,” Minnie pointed out. “You use Ogle and that fancy web engine thing to do your work. Those things work up here, just like they do out there. All that would change is your home base.” When Gera looked at her, the old woman added, “And whether or not you had someone to share it with.”
Hope tiptoed its way into Gera’s heart. A light of possibility crept into her eyes. Skittered away. Edged its way back in again. Dared to stay.
“Maybe,” she allowed.
“You would be good for him.”
They fell silent, each lost to their own musings. After a long moment, Minnie spoke.
“He was looking in the wrong places, you know.” A confidential tone wrapped her quiet words.
“Who?”
“Grant Young. He was looking for buried treasure, hidden out of sight, when in actuality, it was right here for all the world to see.”
Normally, Gera wasn’t philosophical. The girl who punched bullies in the nose and never backed away from a story preferred to work with facts, not the abstract. But Minnie’s earlier words stirred something within her. It made her think of her father, and the way he still loved her mother, even to this day. It made her think of family, and Jake’s commitment to his family’s legacy. Made her think of the way he still felt a spiritual connection to his grandmother. And it made her think of her own dear Grams.
“Yes,” Gera agreed softly. “Love and family are the greatest treasures of all.”
“So true,” Minnie smiled, her eyes indulgent, “but that isn’t what I meant.”
“Oh?” She waited for her friend to elaborate.
“You know, Gera, sometimes all that glitters truly is gold.”
Gera’s forehead creased in confusion. Before she could decipher the cryptic words, a commotion from the opposite direction drew her attention. Gera turned to see Lucy waddling up the staggered steps of the patio, huffing and jiggling her way toward them. Her black face split into a pleased smile.
“There you are, pretty girl! And Nerva, too!” She stopped at the top step to rest and catch her wind. “I’ll call for tea. We can have ourselves a nice little visit, just the three of us.”
“Wait. Nerva?” Gera asked, the crease growing deeper. “But that’s what you call Jake’s grandmother.”
“Yes, Missy, that’s right.”
“But... this is Minnie,” Gera said, motioning to her garden companion.
Minnie was the one to answer. “Yes.”
Gera stared at her pale, wispy friend. The one who sat beneath the glint of sunlight, her white curls glowing around her head like a halo. The one whose skin was so puffy and paper-thin it was practically see through. The one who came and went without making a noise. The one who told stories of the past as if she had been there to witness them herself.
“She called you Nerva,” she whispered.
“Yes, dear.”
“But that’s what she called Minerva Cody.”
“Yes.”
Both women watched as the color faded from Gera’s face. As the wheels began to turn in her mind. As realization flooded over her.
“What’s wrong, Gera girl?” Lucy boomed, her massive bosom jiggling with laughter. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!”
“Lucy, don’t tease the girl,” Minnie chided softly. “Give her time to adjust.”
“But—But...” It was all Gera could say. All her mind could formulate. She finally managed a strangled, “But Jake’s grandmother died eight years ago.”
This time when her friend answered, there was a great sadness in her voice. “Yes.”
“This—This can’t be happening,” Gera whispered. “This can’t be real.” Her voice rose with accusation. “You can’t be real.”
“Well, now, there’s the problem, isn’t it?” Minnie gave her that smile again, the one where she looked like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar.
“But... I can see you! Lucy sees you. She talks with you, has tea with you.” Gera looked at the old black woman for confirmation, daring her to contradict the claim.
“Well, mostly it’s just me having the tea,” Lucy chuckled. She pulled out a chair and lowered her hefty body into it. “I eat all the cookies, too,” she confessed.
Panic set in. Gera placed her hands over her mouth as she practiced deep-breathing techniques. Slow and steady. One breath in, one breath out. One breath in, one crazy thought pushed out. Another breath in, another impossible notion out.
These women asked her to believe the impossible. To not only believe it, but to embrace it.
“Jake has turned into a fine young man,” Minnie continued. Her pale face glowed with pride. “I’m so proud of him. Sometimes I can’t help but put my arms around him and just give him a great big old hug.” She put her arms around her own shoulders and mimicked the motion, a dreamy expression upon her face. The look clouded as she lamented, “I just wish he could feel it.”
“He does,” Gera mumbled, in somewhat of a trance. “He gets a warm feeling wash over him, and for no reason at all, he thinks of his grandmother.”
A delighted smile touched the old woman’s face. “He always called me MiniMa.”
“Yes.” But Gera shook her head, still trying to process it all. “How can this be?” she cried.
“Haven’t you ever wondered, dear, how I can appear and disappear, almost out of the blue?”
“I—I just...” She broke off, finishing with an honest, “Yes.”
“I can’t always control my energy levels, or my energy sources. When I feel myself fading, I have to make a hasty exit.”
“Her feet start tingling,” Lucy offered. “Course, mine do too, but the doctors say that’s the diabetes.”
Ever the one for analytical explanation, Gera studied Minnie’s position upon the bench. The old woman always sat directly beneath the sun’s beam. “The metal bench is a conductor of energy,” Gera realized.
“Yes. And the warmth feels divine.” That dreamy expression flooded Minnie’s eyes again. “That’s one of the things I miss the most about life, you know. Warmth.”
“That’s why no one else ever saw you,” Gera continued. Her voice was still dazed. “I asked about you, but no one ever knew who I was talking about. Lucy is the only one who can see you.”
“Lucy believes.”
“Then... then why can I see you?” Gera asked. “I’m not a believer.”
“Really, dear?” Minnie challenged softly. “After all that has happened, you still don’t believe?”
She shook her head. “I—I can’t. It’s not...” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I just can’t.”
“Remember what I told you, Gera, that not everything in life can be explained. Can you explain to me, for instance, what it is you feel for my grandson?”
She would try, if it meant proving her point. “I guess I feel like he completes me. He doesn’t change me, or take away from me, but he makes me a better person as a whole.”
“That’s why you feel the way you do. But how do you feel?”
“I—I can’t explain it. I just know it, here.” She put a hand over her gut.
“So you just know, without logical reason, that you’re in love with my grandson.”
“Yes,” Gera admitted weakly, defeated on so many levels.
The two old women cackled with glee. Lucy’s bosom jiggled again. Minnie clasped her bent fingers together, but Gera noticed her hands didn’t quite meet. They actually seemed to pass through one another, but that was impossible, of course.
Wasn’t it?
“That day in the hall,” Gera said suddenly. “Why did you push me?”
“Push you? I would never—” Minnie broke off with a frown. “Penelope,” she huffed. “She promised me she would behave. I swear, sometimes that woman is more difficult to deal with than the children! I’ll speak with her, dear, so this sort of thing never happens again.”
“The children?” Gera whispered. “The babies are real?”
Lucy bobbed her head, causing her great bosom to shimmy. “We told Jake, the crying wasn’t our doings. Poor Nerva here plumb lost her voice one night, soothing those poor babies with song.”
Realization dawned in Gera’s gray eyes. “The morning you couldn’t quite ‘pull yourself together,’” she mumbled.
Minnie’s smile was apologetic. “It takes quite a bit of energy, you know, to make oneself visible. That morning, I was so tuckered out I simply couldn’t do it.”
Gera massaged her temples. “None of this makes any sense!” she wailed. “I must be dreaming. I’m dreaming, right? I just think I’m here in the garden, talking to a ghost. I’ll wake up and be back in Jake’s bed, safe and sane.”
Lucy reached out a beefy hand and gave Gera a solid thump on her arm.
“Ouch! What did you do that for?”
“This ain’t no dream, pretty girl. Now pay attention. There are things Nerva needs to tell you.”
“It’s true,” Minnie said. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have, and there are things you must know.”
“You—You’re leaving?” Gera was strangely distraught at the thought.
“I’m not sure, dear. My death has been avenged. I no longer have to worry about my grandson, living his life here alone on the mountain and never knowing true love. My unfinished business is almost done.”
Minnie glanced up at the sun. She shifted slightly, so that she remained beneath the direct beam of her energy source. Folding her curled fingers upon her lap, she continued. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, keeping our family’s legacy intact. You and Jake are a fine match, my dear. You’ll do just fine.”
The old woman’s candid assumptions unnerved Gera. She had difficulty articulating a response. “We’re not... we haven’t talked about the future, not really. I don’t even know if he... I mean, I didn’t even know I did, until just now.”
“If he loves you? Of course he does! As for the future, The Dove will be handed down through a trust, so that it will always remain in our family. It is very important, you know, that the hotel stay intact. Our legacy is in the very fabric of the hotel itself. Do you remember the story I told you, dear, of the ashes and the metal?”
Gera recoiled. “Please don’t tell me—”
“No, dear, not in the way you’re thinking. But did I ever tell you the story of my father, the metalsmith? Did you know that once upon a time, Richard Luna, Eli Cunningham, and Cecil Thurman commissioned him to create great works of art for them?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she murmured. But the names were familiar. She had heard them that night at The Bartlett, during Grant Young’s tyrannical rant. All three were executives at the mines, and all three lived way up high on Cleopatra Hill, all in a row. According to Grant’s version of the legend, they were the men responsible for burying the hoard of gold. Gold that was but a by-product when mining for copper.
She felt overwhelmed again. Her mind felt as if it might explode.
While Gera resumed her breathing exercises, Minnie watched anxiously from the bench. Lucy offered support by way of an encouraging pat.
Jake’s voice floated out to the terrace, concern lacing his words. “Gera? Babe, you out here?”
“I must go,” Minnie said. A new urgency moved into her voice. “Remember the things we’ve talked about. Remember to keep the family legacy intact.”
“But—”
“Gera?” Jake called again, this time louder.
Minnie’s smile was tender as she watched her grandson step from the doorway. “Ah, such a handsome man, my Jake. He looks so much like his father.”
Gera followed the other woman’s gaze. He was, indeed, handsome. Sudden emotion clogged her throat. “Up here, Jake,” she replied.
She turned back to speak to her friend, but only Lucy’s smiling face shone back at her. Minnie was already gone.
