“Please, Carrie. I’ve been wanting to bring you and Dylan to this place for months. Don’t you realize that you two are family to me?”

  There was a vulnerability in his expression I’d never noticed before. Something made me glance at Babette. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but I caught it in time. She knew this was important to the man she loved. And so I hugged Victor and thanked him profusely. Dylan hugged him too.

  Babette and I kissed each other’s cheeks, then she moved to put her arm around Victor’s waist. “Let us know what you think of the house.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  When we were inside the car, Dylan shook his head, “And I was planning to pay for lunch.”

  “There was no way he was going to let you do that,” I said. “Babette made that clear to me.”

  “So I noticed.”

  I chuckled as Dylan backed out of the parking space. “Of course you noticed. I should realize by now there’s not much that you miss.”

  “Hey, I’m an investigator, remember? I’ve been trained to notice.”

  I thought a moment. “Victor said we’re family to him. I suppose that’s because he lost his wife a few years ago. And he’s never mentioned children.”

  Dylan didn’t say anything as he turned onto the road that would take us to the haunted house. When I glanced over to see if he’d heard me, I realized he was trying to decide how to answer me. Finally, he asked, “What do you know about Victor’s life before he moved to Clover Ridge?”

  “Only that he was born in what was then Czechoslovakia and lived in Croatia for several years before moving to the States.”

  “His wife, Hanna, was from Croatia—”

  “I thought his wife’s name was Dusana,” I interrupted. “She died a few years ago, and he donated money to the hospital in her name.”

  “Dusana was his second wife, and they’d been married for over twenty-five years. But Victor met his first wife when they were both attending Charles University in Prague. Hanna was Croatian, so they settled in Croatia. They had two small children—a boy and a girl—when the Bosnia-Herzegovina War broke out.” Dylan cleared his throat. “While he was fighting for the Bosnian Croats, his family died in a bombing.”

  “Oh. How awful. I had no idea.” Stunned, I fell back against my seat. “When did you find this out? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  A minute later, we stopped at a red light. Dylan turned to me. “Believe me, I wasn’t keeping it to myself, but I never found the right time to tell you. There’s so much going on in our own lives. Then we found Billy Carpenter’s body—”

  “When did Victor tell you about his wife and children?”

  “A few weeks ago. It was the night of the last board meeting. Since both you and Babette were out for the evening, Victor suggested he and I go out for dinner. That’s when he told me.”

  I thought back to that evening. I remembered being all churned up about the board’s heated discussion regarding the site of an abandoned gas station a few blocks from the high school; I’d brought that news home and shared it with Dylan. Dylan had listened and been supportive. Still, there must have been other times when he might have told me something this important. Unless he was reluctant to tell me because it was so very sad.

  Which was why I didn’t make an issue of it. Victor had found a second love, and eventually lost her too. How much could one person suffer?

  Dylan’s hand covered mine as the light turned green, and we drove on. “Sad, isn’t it? I hope we never have to go through anything like it.”

  “How did the subject come up?”

  “I think we were talking about Babette, and Victor was telling me how happy he was to have found her.” He chuckled. “I told him about our history, going back to when we were little kids and I used to play with your brother Jordan. So he started telling me about his life. And losing his family.”

  “How does someone go on after that happens?”

  “I asked him that. He said for a few years everything was gray. Then he decided he had to move on. So many people he knew had died in that war. But he was alive and he had to make something of his life. Which was when he started his import-export business. Which is how he met Dusana.” Dylan smiled. “Eventually they fell in love and married. She couldn’t have children, but they were very happy, he said.”

  “Second chances,” I murmured.

  “And third,” Dylan said. “For some reason, you and I come as a package with Babette.”

  I laughed as I remembered when their relationship had begun. “That’s because Babette desperately needed a judge for the kids’ art contests at the Thanksgiving Eve festival. I brought Victor over, and it worked out. They’d known each other, but that night things took a turn. And don’t forget we helped prove that Victor wasn’t guilty of committing a murder.”

  “He sees us as family, Carrie. I suppose we’re about the age his son and daughter would have been.”

  “I’m happy to be Victor’s family,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  Chapter Ten

  We pulled up in front of the Haunted House a few minutes before two thirty. A red SUV stood in the driveway. Dylan and I remained in the car as we studied the scene before us.

  The pale yellow house stood on a rise set back from the road. Its two stories were topped by a steep roof with a forest-green gable the same color as the front door and shutters. I’d learned from my reading that Ted Wolcott and his wife had added extensions to both sides of the house about thirty years ago.

  When I’d stayed at the Singleton Farm during childhood summers, I often rode my bike here to stare at this lovely home nestled among flowers and bushes, bounded by a dense row of evergreens on both sides of the expansive lawn. Though I’d never seen anyone enter or leave the house, I’d spent many hours imagining the lucky people who lived inside.

  “It looks like it’s been well cared for, that’s for sure,” Dylan said as we started up the walk.

  “I agree. The exterior is freshly painted, and someone’s put down mulch and planted annuals around the front of the house.”

  “Oh, look!” I exclaimed when I caught sight of the weeping willow and the brook running past it at the rear of the property.

  As we approached the front door, it opened, and an attractive woman in her forties came outside to join us. “I see you found the house with no difficulty.” She smiled as she extended her hand. “I’m Terri Leoni from Gallison Realty.”

  “I’m Carrie Singleton. This is my fiancé, Dylan Avery.” We shook hands.

  “Well-known Clover Ridge names. So nice to meet you, Carrie and Dylan.” Terri grinned at me. “Especially since the former Singleton Farm was just down the road.”

  “That my parents bought and sold. The farmhouse is now a B&B,” Dylan said wryly.

  “Houses often change hands,” Terri said. “We Americans move about for various reasons. Children rarely feel the need to keep up the old homestead. This house, for example, has had several owners.”

  “Yes, we’re familiar with its history,” I said, suddenly not wanting to hear it repeated.

  Which was fine with Terri. She winked at me and said, “In that case, come inside so you can see it for yourself.”

  She opened the door, and we stepped into the hallway. I looked about, struck by the light and airy feeling created by the skylight above. I was surprised at how modern the interior was and how the rooms flowed, one into the other. The living room and dining room were on either side of the staircase that led up to the bedrooms. Behind the stairs were a small bathroom and stairs leading down to the basement. The kitchen and family room stretched across the back of the house. I realized that one of the side additions was a two-car garage. The other was a room off the living room with windows on three sides.

  “Perfect for an office,” Dylan murmured as he followed my gaze.

  Terri said little until we reached the kitchen, which was large enough to include a center island and a comfortable eating area, and was outfitted with up-to-the minute stainless steel appliances. The refrigerator had glass doors, which had always intrigued me.

  “The kitchen was updated three years ago,” Terri said, “Shortly after, hardwood flooring was put down throughout the entire downstairs area.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Terri shrugged. “The owners hoped it might encourage one of their grandchildren to come back and live here.”

  A window above the sink looked out onto the stone patio and the spacious lawn beyond that ended in a small forest of trees. Once again the weeping willow and the brook caught my attention.

  “The size of the property is just under three acres. There are houses on either side and a farm behind those trees.” Terri pointed to the back. “The field that abuts the property has been used to grow corn for the last several years.”

  “Nice and quiet,” I said.

  “The back yard is large enough for a pool,” Dylan said.

  “And a vegetable garden,” I said.

  “Why don’t we take a look outside after I show you the basement and the bedrooms?”

  We followed Terri down to the finished basement, which would make a great playroom. We peeked into the furnace room, all clean and tidy; then we headed back upstairs. I was pleased that the staircase leading to the bedrooms stopped midway, with a resting spot and a window of its own.

  Upstairs, the three smaller bedrooms were situated close to a bathroom. At the other end of the short hall was the master suite—an oversized bedroom with two walk-in closets and a huge modern bathroom. I could barely contain my grin. Dylan and I looked at each other. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Terri, but both of us were hooked.

  “You like?” she asked.

  “It’s lovely,” I said, trying to sound noncommittal.

  “Why don’t you go through it again on your own, and then we can meet out on the patio and talk some more.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Dylan said.

  I held my breath until Terri’s footsteps descended to the ground floor.

  “So?” Dylan said.

  “I like it.”

  “I do too.”

  We went through the upstairs rooms again. Dylan studied the registers on the floors and the walls. “We need to ask her about the heating/air conditioning system.” He made a note on his iPhone.

  Downstairs, I examined the kitchen appliances again, then went into the small room next to it to inspect the washer and dryer. “These are quite old. They’ll need to be replaced,” I said.

  Dylan added that to a list on his iPhone.

  “No sign of any ghosts,” I commented.

  “No sign,” Dylan agreed.

  We peered into the supply closet between the laundry room and the kitchen, then moved on to the living room and stood in front of the brick fireplace.

  I glanced up into the blackened flue. “Ugh! I wonder when the chimney was last cleaned.”

  “Not in several years,” a young child said.

  I stood frozen except for my eyes, which darted around the room. I didn’t see anyone, but that meant nothing. When I found my voice, I said, “Thanks for letting us know.”

  I heard giggling, then: “Anything else you want to know about the house?”

  “Whatever you care to tell us.”

  Dylan made a gurgling sound as the transparent image of a girl about nine years old appeared in the corner of the room. A minute later a younger girl joined her. They wore long dresses with full skirts.

  “It’s a lovely house,” the younger girl said.

  “I think the new people made too many changes. Unnecessary changes,” the older one said. She shrugged. “But that’s what people do, I guess, when they buy someone’s home.”

  “Was your father Allistair Perry?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said the older girl. “He had the house built when he and our mother married. My name is Abigail Jane Perry.”

  “I’m Lucy,” said her sister.

  “Nice to meet you both,” I said. “My name is Carrie Singleton and—”

  “Oh! Like the farm!” Lucy crowed. “The Wolcotts used to go there for corn and eggs.”

  “Lucy,” her sister cautioned.

  “Sorry.” Lucy lowered her head.

  “She’s not used to having people to talk to besides me,” Abigail explained. “Usually the minute a stranger hears us, they go flying out of the house.” She eyed me cautiously. “But you’re different.”

  Dylan laughed. I was glad to see he’d regained his composure. “That’s because one of Carrie’s best friends is a ghost. I’m Dylan, by the way—Carrie’s fiancé.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dylan,” Abigail said.

  “We are ghosts, aren’t we?” Lucy said, looking sad.

  Abigail put her arm around her sister. “Don’t feel bad, Luce. We’ll get to where we’re supposed to go—one day.”

  I decided to be up front with the two ghost children. “Dylan and I heard that a few potential buyers were frightened away when they heard you girls.”

  Abigail waved her hand. “Pshaw! Scaredy cats! They weren’t right for the house.”

  “What about the people who lived here after the fire?” I said. “Did they know you were still here?”

  “Not the first family that came after the house was repaired. We were afraid to make any noise and scare them away. But the Wolcotts were different. They heard us talking one day, and after they got over their shock, they became our friends.”

  “Interesting,” Dylan said.

  “They kept it a secret,” Lucy said. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  I gave a start at the sound of the sliding door being opened. “Would you like to come outside and look over the property?” Terri asked.

  “We’ll be right there.” I said.

  “After we look around inside a bit more,” Dylan added.

  “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Are you going to buy the house?” Lucy asked when Terri had closed the door behind her. “I hope you will.”

  Dylan and I burst out laughing. “There’s a good chance we’ll be doing just that,” Dylan said.

  “Oh goody,” the girls said together and disappeared.

  * * *

  Dylan and I walked around the grounds and viewed the interior of the house once again, this time shooting questions at Terri: How much were the school taxes? How old was the furnace? And anything else we could think of. Though we tried to act nonchalant, our interest in buying the house came through loud and clear, and soon she was pressuring us for a commitment.

  “This is the first time Carrie and I have seen the house. Sure, we like it but we need to talk it over,” Dylan said as the three of us stood around the center island in the kitchen.

  Terri told us what the Wolcotts were asking for the house. “If it’s within your price range, I suggest you make an offer. You seem to love the house. I’d hate to see you lose it to someone else.”

  Which someone else? we were kind enough not to ask.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Dylan said firmly. We thanked Terri and left.

  We discussed finances as we drove home, comparing the amount we’d been willing to spend on the unbuilt house we’d been considering and the one we’d just seen. The cost of the new house was much lower than the asking price of the ghost house, but it didn’t include landscaping and other expenses that were sure to crop up.

  “Let’s offer the amount we would pay if we bought the house in the development,” Dylan said.

  “Really? Will they go for it?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  We’d been home all of five minutes when Terri called us on our landline. I reached for the phone.

  “Have you thought about offering a bid?” she asked.

  Dylan nodded and I gave her the low-ball amount we’d decided on.

  “Are you serious?” She sounded disappointed.

  “That’s our offer. Please present it to the Wolcotts.”

  She called back ten minutes later. “They’ve accepted your bid.”

  “Thanks for letting us know.”

  I was too excited to listen to Terri’s follow-up instructions.

  “We’ll be in touch.” I hung up and screamed.

  Dylan and I hugged each other tight.

  “We’re buying our house!” I said.

  “Our haunted house.”

  I grinned. “I’m so happy.”

  “So am I, babe. So am I.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I hummed as I drove to work Monday morning. Dylan and I had found a house that we loved! It had come about so suddenly, but I could see us living there all our married life. It was spacious yet cozy, and had everything I’d ever wanted. There were stores close by, and the elementary school was a five-minute drive away.

  Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco were thrilled when I called to tell them we’d put a bid on the house, and it had been accepted.

  “I hope you remembered that we said the Wolcotts would come down in price,” Aunt Harriet said, sounding a bit worried.

  “Oh, they did,” I said. “Immediately.”

  When I told her what we were paying, she whooped. “You and Dylan are savvy consumers.”

  I called my parents and Angela and Steve. And Julia and Randy. And Victor and Babette.

  As soon as I got to the library, I shared our good news with my colleagues. They were thrilled for Dylan and me.

  “When do you think you’ll move in?” Angela asked.

  “I have no idea. The house doesn’t need much work, but I want to go over it carefully and see what needs attention before moving in. We’ll need a new washer and dryer. And though it’s in good condition, I’d like to paint the interior, change the carpet in the bedrooms and on the stairs, and find out if the hardwood floors require special care or treatment.”

  Marion grinned at me. “Listen to her!” she teased. “A house-proud homeowner.”