THE GHOST & MRS. MUIR

SECOND CHANCES

By Laurie Bryant

Carolyn Muir rolled down the window of the station wagon as she drove into town. After a cool, rainy spring Schooner Bay was finally, in mid-June, enjoying warm, sunny days. The drive into town was not a long one, but it afforded her the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts, away from the various distractions of Gull Cottage. Most often, she gratefully let her mind wander as she listened to the songs on the radio. Lately, however, all the lyrics of all the songs seemed to remind her of the one subject which occupied her thoughts in recent weeks, consuming both her consciousness and her dreams. This ride was no different, and as the sound of Motown's latest hit played through the inadequate single speaker in the dashboard she felt the familiar physical response once again, the warmness in her body and the inability to concentrate on anything else but the words ringing in her ears, as though singing out only to her:

Someday, we'll be together...

She eased the car into an open space in front of Ollie Wilkins' General Store, pausing before turning off the engine so she could hear the end of the song. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the headrest, not really enjoying the song but contemplating the abstract meanings of someday, and of together.

After the announcer broke in over the last chorus of the music, she removed her key and started off into the general store, needing to choose Father's Day cards for her own father and her former father-in-law. As she perused the limited selection she heard a familiar voice over her shoulder.

"Oh, Mrs. Muir, how nice to see you out and about."

Carolyn turned and faced the woman next to her. Although she was barely visible beneath the armful of items she held, Carolyn recognized the woman instantly.

"Thank you, Carolyn said. "Looks like you're buying out the store, are you expecting an army?"

"Oh, this? No. I'm in charge of buying supplies for the school's Father's Day activities. There's so much to do, what with the dance and the box lunches for the bus trip into Boston..."

Carolyn's face revealed her confusion. "Activities?"

"Didn't you get the flyer? It went home with the kids last week. And there's posters up all over town." She indicated a poster taped to Mr. Wilkins' cash register.

"I'm afraid I haven't been in town much lately," Carolyn shrugged. "I've been working on a story..."

"A lonely writer, locked away behind closed doors with only a typewriter for company?" Mrs. Coburn's genuine look of pity annoyed Carolyn more than a bit.

"Something like that...If you'll excuse me." Carolyn turned back to the cards fingering several, hoping she could be left alone.

"Come to think of it, I didn't see Candy or Jonathan's names on either of the reservations lists. But I guess that's to be expected, under the circumstances." This last was followed by yet another sympathetic cock of her perfectly coifed head.

"Circumstances?" A mother first, Carolyn could not let reference to her kids pass without comment.

Mrs. Coburn seemed surprised that Carolyn didn't catch her drift. "Well, you know, dear, it being Father's Day and all.." She practically whispered the last part.

"It's all right, Mrs. Coburn. We know it's Father's Day." Carolyn forced a smile as she held up the greeting cards in her hand. "And I'm sure we can work out some way for my children to join in the fun assuming, of course, that we'd be welcome..."

"Of course, we'd love to have them!"

Here comes the 'but'.

"But, you understand, that the dance is a father-daughter affair, everyone is welcome, but the girls are to be escorted by, well...men. And as for the bus trip, the dad's are taking the boys to the baseball game in Boston. You'd be the only woman on the bus..."

Carolyn stubbornly refused to give in. "Great. I love baseball, and as for the dance I... know how to lead."

"Oh." Mrs. Coburn was obviously not thrilled with the prospect of Mr. Coburn spending the day on a bus with Carolyn Muir. "Well, ah, call me if you need any of the details, Mrs. Muir. That's great, that's really great..." Not terribly convincing, she shuffled her way down the narrow aisle and plopped her items on the counter in a heap.

"It's great, all right," Carolyn mumbled to herself. Why didn't the kids mention anything? Why is Schooner Bay so small that my kids are the only ones in grammar school without a father? Why doesn't this store have any good cards? She disgustedly put back most of the cards in her hand, deciding to buy the best of a bad lot.

"Oh, Mrs. Muir," called Mrs. Coburn from the register area. "I have a wonderful idea! My cousin James is coming in from Portland for a visit, he'll be here for about a week and he won't know a soul except for my family..."

Oh God, thought Carolyn, she's trying to set me up! Let me guess, we have a lot in common...

"...and he actually reads those fancy magazines from Boston, so you have so much in common!"

And he can read! Well, that settles it...

"You really should get back out in the world, Carolyn. Start living..."

Living. Someday. "I don't think so, Mrs. Coburn. But thanks for thinking of me."

Mr. Wilkins had finished boxing up Mrs. Coburn's purchases. "Put it on the school's bill please, Mr. Wilkins. Well, so long, Mrs. Muir. I'm off to buy a new outfit for the dance. That husband of mine loves when I get all dolled up." She hoisted the box and gathered her purse from the counter. "Let me know if you change your mind, those kids need a father and it wouldn't hurt you to have someone to look good for again..."

Carolyn watched as she departed the store, recalling the sincere compliment paid her by the Captain that very morning and the bittersweet joy it brought her to see the look in his eyes when he said it. She had awakened early and opened the French doors to the balcony off the bedroom. She knew the open doors were an invitation for him to appear to her.

Oh, Captain, I just love the sunrise over the ocean, don't you?

It is the second most beautiful sight I have ever seen, Mrs. Muir.

"Don't pay her no mind, Mrs. Muir,' said Mr. Wilkins with a shy grin. "Plenty of people appreciate how good you look. I know I do every time you come in."

"Why thank you , Mr. Wilkins," Carolyn responded. "I think..."

After paying for her own purchases, Carolyn decided to stop in and see Claymore about a few minor repairs. She found him in his office just finishing a telephone call.

"Oh, Mrs. Muir!" Claymore rose from behind his desk and crossed to meet her at the door, ushering her in and pulling up a chair for her. "It's so nice to see you. How lovely you look today, just lovely!"

"What are you up to, Claymore?"

"Up to? Me? Why, Mrs. Muir, can't I simply be glad to see my favorite tenant and friend?" He sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his hands in his lap. "Now, what brings you into this dreary, lifeless office on such a beautiful day? Business or pleasure?"

"Both, actually. I've made a list of a few minor things that need fixing around Gull Cottage," she handed him a piece of paper from her purse. "Nothing urgent, but I wanted to make you aware."

Claymore took it with excited pleasure. "Repairs? Oh-hoh...That's wonderful, Mrs. Muir. I shall make note of these at once. In fact, if you can think of anything else that's wrong, anything at all, please don't hesitate..."

"Why thank you, Claymore," said Carolyn, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"...as long as it's before four o'clock." Ker-plunk.

"Why, what happens at four o'clock?"

"Ah. Well, you see Mrs. Muir, it's nothing, really. It's just that I have an appraiser coming out to check the house today at four..."

'Well that explains it," interrupted Carolyn.

"Explains what?"

"Why you've been charming me half to death ever since I walked in here today," she shook her head firmly. "I'm not getting in the middle of this, Claymore. You'll just have to tell the Captain yourself."

"But, Mrs. Muir, you know how he feels about strangers in his house! And in order to lower the property taxes on Gull Cottage I need to convince the appraiser that the value has gone down since the last appraisal. And in order for the appraiser to see what terrible condition the house is in he needs to see the house, all of it, inside and out."

"Claymore! Gull Cottage may need a few minor repairs but it is not in terrible condition. Martha keeps that house spotless, and we have done our best to make it livable again after YOU neglected it for years!"

"That's another thing, Mrs. Muir. If you could kind of, you know, mess it up a little before the appraiser arrives I would really appreciate it..."

"Claymore!"

"Well, Mrs. Muir, I have been stuck with that old house for years. HE won't let me sell it, he won't even let me raise your rent! Which, incidentally, just covers the current tax on the property, which means, that I get nothing out of it! My own house! It just isn't fair, Mrs. Muir, and I intend to do something about it. Now, if I can't raise the rent I am going to lower the tax and get my profit that way. It's the American way!" Claymore stood and proudly straightened his tie.

"It may be the American way, but it certainly isn't the Gregg way. The Captain will never allow it."

"Ah hah! And that's where you come in..."

"NO!"

"Uhhh!," Claymore surrendered, chewing on his fingertips in thought. Steeled by the prospect of saving money, he set his fears aside. "Oh, all right. I'll come over this afternoon to explain it to him."

"Good."

"I'll reason with him.

"Okay."

"I'll appeal to his good nature..."

"Great."

"...His sense of fair play. His sense of family pride..."

"...and loyalty," Carolyn finished.

"Right," said Claymore. "It's not going to work, is it?"

"Not a chance," Carolyn smiled.

Claymore fell dejectedly into his chair. He looked up at her from above the frame of his glasses. "Was there something else I could do for you, Mrs. Muir?"

Carolyn watched him for a moment, actually feeling a bit sorry for him. She knew how exasperating the Captain could be. She also knew all the other things he could be, things Claymore could never conceive of. For a moment, it occurred to her that she was perhaps the only person to know the Captain, to really know him in every way. Well, almost every way...

"Mrs. Muir?"

"Oh yes, Claymore, there is something else. I have a favor to ask..." She noticed his incredulous look and quickly added, "It's not for me, it's for Candy and Jonathan."

"The children?"

At least she had hit a weak spot, or at least as close to a weak spot as Claymore had for anything other than money.

He sat up in his chair and leaned across his desk. "Very well, what is it?"

She hesitated before continuing, "You know about the Father's Day activities that the school is putting on?"

"Of course, there are posters all over town."

Does everyone know about this but me? "That's the one. Well, since Candy and Jonathan don't have a ..." she couldn't bring herself to say it. "...male escort, I was wondering if maybe you might..." She shrugged as her voice trailed off.

"Go as the Captain? Mrs. Muir, I have retired my beard, the spirit gum gave me such a rash."

"No, no. You could go as yourself. Dear, sweet, lovable Uncle Claymore. It would mean a lot to them..."

"I am not without feeling, Mrs. Muir, and I am very fond of your children." He was now sensitive, introspective Claymore. "You know, I would someday like to escort my own brood to such events." He seemed deep in thought.

"Then you'll do it?"

"I would love to do it, in fact, I would be honored." Claymore placed his hand over his heart.

But...

"...But, one hand washes the other, Mrs. Muir. And right, now, I have a very dirty hand." He held up his hand and inspected his fingernails.

Carolyn sighed. "I'll see what I can do, Claymore. But, I don't promise anything!"

"Oh, thank you , Mrs. Muir. All you have to do is get the Captain to let Mr. Anderson in the house, I will take care of the rest. Now he's a very nervous man, Mrs. Muir, you know the type..."

"I think I do," smiled Carolyn.

"He's heard all the talk about Gull Cottage being, you know, haunted. It's taken me months just to get him to agree to come over. So, it's important that he be left completely alone to do his job. No spooks or specter's of any kind..."