“Fitting,” Ophelia sniffed.
Marty Zach lowered the basket so I could see him better. His smile momentarily knocked the breath out of me. Broad and infectious, with perfectly straight, white teeth and a slight underbite that gave him a boyish quality. Most of the smile was in his eyes though. Deep blue.
He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug and motioned to the gift basket in his arms. “It appears I’ve entered into a round of dueling gift baskets.”
“Oh, how nice,” I started. “Of both of you…”
He nodded. “I heard someone had actually moved into this old wreck and thought I’d give you my condolences with a gift basket.” He chuckled then, and I couldn’t help my own laugh, even if his words were true. I’d gotten in over my head with this place. I just didn’t have the sense to walk away yet.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Do not thank him just yet!” Ophelia nearly interrupted, her whispery voice cutting through the haze of effusive gratitude like a stinging papercut. “He wants something from you, girl. Or else he wouldn’t be here.”
“Ophelia,” Marty started, shaking his head.
She continued to glare at me. “You’ll find very few men will grant favors unless they want something in return.”
I guess I couldn’t argue that—it had been my experience, thus far.
Marty’s salt-and-pepper brows scrunched down over those big, blue eyes in a way that was too attractive to be allowed.
“Come on, Ophelia,” he said, giving her a smile that said her anger wouldn’t take him down. “I know you were born sometime in the late Mesozoic Era, but here in the 21st century, we’ve evolved past that logic.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Watch yourself,” Ophelia answered, glaring at him.
“I’m here to say welcome to our new neighbor, that’s it,” Marty said as he turned his attention to me again.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Mom?” I heard Finn’s voice from behind me. “Is everything okay?”
I took a deep breath, letting some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. Then I turned around to face Finn. “Yep, everything’s fine. Two of our neighbors came to visit,” I called out, looking at my little guy, where he stood at the top of the stairs. Or, really, my not so little guy…
Then I looked at my visitors again. “I’m going to invite you both in, but no more arguing, deal?”
They both exchanged an unfriendly glance before Ophelia bent double, setting her offering on my faded welcome mat that read: ‘Ring Bell. Pull weeds until someone answers’.
“Hallowed Realty hopes you enjoy your new home, Ms. Morton,” Ophelia said, maintaining her haughty expression. “Please accept this gift basket on our behalf.”
I wasn’t going to argue. “Thank you, Ophelia, and it was nice meeting you.”
She nodded and then straightened as swiftly and stiffly as a fan being snapped shut. She turned on her heel and left, creaking and thunking her whole way down the driveway. How hadn’t I heard the two vehicles (one of which was a hearse) pulling up? I needed a security system or something. Maybe a gate.
I expected her to climb into the black hearse. Instead, she folded herself into the white 1964 Dodge 330. She turned on the engine which flared to life and then spluttered until I half-expected it to break down. But, Ophelia threw it into reverse and then performed a thirty-point turn before starting down my driveway. Marty and I watched her with equal bemusement. Only after she’d gone did I notice the apple tree beside the house.
“Oh my God,” I said as I stared at it, openmouthed. Half the leaves had fallen off and the apples closest to the porch were withered up and rotting. “My apples!”
I looked at Marty, who didn’t appear surprised.
“This morning the tree didn’t look like this!” I insisted, thinking he must think I was nuts. “It’s the weirdest thing! I mean… what in the world could have happened to it?”
Marty nodded. “I have a pretty good idea.”
I looked at him, and he let out a great big breath of air. “Can we try this again?” he asked.
Chapter Four
“Come in,” I said as I glanced at him. “But I warn you, the smell inside is an instant cure for your appetite.”
Marty flashed me another of those glittering grins. “I’ll chance it.”
And with that, he followed me into the fragrant foyer, shutting the front door gently behind him.
“So, you said you weren’t surprised by the state of my apple tree,” I started. “Is there an apple-tree disease or pest invading orchards around here or something?”
“Not exactly.”
“Those sounds weren’t ghosts?” Finn asked as he walked into the kitchen and studied Marty with caution. Even after Marty had tramped very noisily across the kitchen in his heavy work boots, Finn still didn’t seem convinced he was human. That was probably owing to the fact that Finn could see ghosts as easily as I could—in 3D—like they were flesh and bone.
“Finn, this is our neighbor… McFly.”
Marty blinked and looked at me in confusion. “Um... what?”
I laughed because I thought my new pet-name for him was pretty funny. Maybe I was the only one? “You know… like Marty McFly? Back to the Future?”
“No one has called me McFly since high school,” he returned the laugh.
“Well, you can’t say that anymore, can you?”
“Great Scott!” Marty said as he faced Finn, who laughed.
“This is Marty, Finn,” I introduced them, thinking it felt really good to laugh again. “He’s our new neighbor and he brought us a gift basket.”
“Nice to meet you, Finn,” the man in question said. “And since your mom started calling me McFly and I have to admit, I actually kinda like it, you can too… if you want.”
“Nice to meet you, McFly,” Finn answered and looked up at him with a curious smile. It was at that moment that I could tell Marty Zach had just made himself a new friend. And it wasn’t surprising. Marty put off the energy of a man half his age: I’d noticed him eyeing Finn’s abandoned Gameboy, which was sitting on the counter, with interest. I should have known he’d be the gaming sort. He had ‘overgrown teenager’ written all over him.
“Thanks for the basket,” Finn said as he eyed it. “What’s in it?”
“Well, let’s find out!” Marty lifted the gift basket and plopped it on the counter. “I did my best to include a sampling of everything Haven Hollow has to offer.” The wicker basket was deep and, just by rattling it, I got the sense he’d stuffed it full to bursting with goodies. Even now, enormous round suckers strained the top of the cellophane—cellophane that had been taped together in some places, to keep the insides from coming out. It was clearly homemade.
Finn’s pale face appeared behind the plastic wrap as he eyed the contents with curiosity. He was what Mom called ‘lanky’, all sprawling limbs and no muscle tone. No matter how voracious his appetite, he never gained an ounce, a trait I envied. Turn him sideways and he’d disappear. I wondered if the fact that he was young and always losing himself in his imagination was what had drawn the poltergeist to him.