Page 27 of Ghost

W hen Mason woke up , it took him a moment to figure out where he was.

He could hear the TV in the living room, but just barely.

He got out of bed and quietly made his way towards the sound.

When he got to the doorway, he saw Francis sitting on the small sofa, his elbows on his knees, watching the national morning news broadcast, intently.

Without looking up, Francis said, “The world is a strange place now. It seems foreign so me.” He looked up. “Good morning, Mason. I trust you slept well?” He let his eyes travel down Mason’s body, a smirk appearing on his face. “Were you dreaming of me?”

Mason looked down at himself and realized that he was still sporting a healthy erection. He rolled his eyes. “You know as well as I do that most men wake up with erections.” He put his hands on his hips and swung his hips from side to side, teasing Francis.

“I’m going to the bathroom and then make some coffee.” He turned to leave, looking over his shoulder, “Then I’ll sit with you a bit and answer any questions you have.”

Francis had already returned his attention to the television. “I have many questions.”

The pair sat on the small sofa, watching TV, Mason answering as many questions as Francis had. He seemed particularly interested in airplane travel, but then told Mason to be quiet, when there was a story about agriculture. Francis leaned forward, engrossed in the piece.

Once the article had concluded, Francis sat back, a serious look on his face. He then turned to Mason. “Is there such a thing as raising and harvesting fish?”

Mason blinked a few times. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure there is. I think I heard it called aquaculture once.”

Francis nodded but didn’t speak for a long time. Mason could tell he was no longer watching or interested in what was going on with the television. He figured he’d wait and see if Francis had any more questions, meanwhile, he needed another cup of coffee.

When Mason returned to the living room, Francis was pacing the room. After Mason had sat back down, sipping his coffee, Francis turned to him. “I need to speak with Ellen.”

* * * * *

S ince Mason still didn’t have a telephone, which he hoped would happen sometime that day, he walked down the block to call on Mrs. Ellen Watson Trudeau. He was about to take the last step onto the stoop when Mr. Trudeau appeared.

“Ellen is still in her dressing gown, having her breakfast,” Mr. Trudeau announced, scowling at Mason.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s still a little early, but Francis has asked that he see her as soon as possible.” Mason frowned a bit. “I think it may have something to do with Hobonny.”

Mr. Trudeau’s eyebrows shot up. He looked past Mason for a moment.

“I will tell her that we must pay him a visit first thing.” He focused back on Mason.

“Please, forgive me if I seemed a bit out of sorts with you. One of my biggest faults, which Ellen has voiced many times, is that I am overly protective of my wife.”

Mason smiled. “I think that’s really nice. She’s lucky to have you.”

Mr. Trudeau laughed, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat. “No, my young fellow, it is I who am the lucky one. Now, be gone with you. Expect us shortly.”

Mason tilted his head slightly to one side. “Both of you?”

Smiling, Mr. Trudeau said, “I will have Ellen explain that to you. Now off with you.” He made a shooing motion with his right hand.

* * * * *

“W ell?” Francis said as soon as Mason walked into the front door.

“Um... Mr. Trudeau said that they would be here shortly.” Mason looked at Francis. “Are you able to leave the house?”

“No. I can go no further than the house boundaries.” Francis answered, frowning. “Am I to assume that Ellen’s husband can?”

“That’s the impression I got.” Mason turned to go down the stairs. “I need to leave a note on the door telling them to come around to the back door of the basement. She has trouble with stairs.”

Francis smiled warmly. “You are a kind and gentle man.”

Once Mason was downstairs, he walked into the living room. “Wow, I really do need some furniture. I have nothing to sit on but that sofa and folding beach chairs.”

Francis chuckled behind him. “Yes, I do think that you should consider some other furnishing, although I do not think that Ellen will care.”

“What does she like to drink, do you know?” Mason hurried past Francis towards the kitchen. “All I have is coffee, water and beer.”

“I can assure you that Ellen will not be accepting an offer of beer.” Francis laughed.

“You’re not helping.” Mason scowled.

“I am afraid that I cannot help in this matter,” Francis explained. “Remember, she was a child when I left the world of the living.” He paused a moment. “Actually, as I remember now, she loved lemonade as a child.”

Mason thought a moment. “I wonder if Nick has any in his store.” He looked at Francis. “I’ll be right back. I’ll leave the note for Mrs. Trudeau and then run down to see if Nick has any.”

Francis smiled.

“Don’t run off,” Mason said quickly, smirking before he shut the door behind him.

* * * * *

M ason could hear Francis before he saw him, after opening the door.

He set the bag on the breakfast bar in the kitchen and rushed to the living room.

There he found Mr. and Mrs. Trudeau and Francis.

She was sitting, just as primly as the night before, with a gentle smile on her face while Mr. Trudeau and Francis were standing, both laughing.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.” Mason was a bit out of breath.

Francis turned towards him. “I hope that you do not mind that I asked them to come in.”

“No, of course not. It’s your house,” Mason said, slightly surprised.

Ellen laughed. “Actually, it is your house, Mason.” She waved towards Francis, discounting him. “He was only the former owner.”

Mason frowned slightly. “I still consider this to be Francis’ home.”

“Francis, do you remember Charlotte Young?” Ellen asked.

“Indeed, I do.” Francis looked puzzled. “Why do you ask, cousin?”

Ellen pointed towards Mason. “It is the same... but more.”

Francis’ eyebrows shot up, and his mouth dropped open. He looked from his cousin to Mason and then back again.

Ellen giggled, her hand over her mouth. “How could you not have seen it?”

“What are you talking about?” Mason asked, frowning once again.

“My dear, Mason, you are in love with Francis.” She smiled warmly towards him. She then looked at Francis. “And I dare say, that he is also in love with you, which he was not with Miss Charlotte Young!”

Mason and Francis looked at each other. Mason could feel his face go hot.

“Now then, I was told that you were off to obtain some lemonade; is that correct?” Ellen was sitting there, grinning. “I would love a glass, thank you, Mason.”

Mason blinked a few times before turning to fetch the lemonade.

He pulled out a glass, doubled checked that it was clean. Popped a few ice cubes into it, then poured the premade lemonade into the glass. He’d also picked up a package of shortbread cookies, which he put on a small plate. He wiped his hands on his jeans before picking up either.

He felt numb. Could it be true that he had fallen in love with Francis? That’s ridiculous! Francis is a ghost. How can anyone fall in love with a ghost? He gathered up the glass and plate and took them into Ellen. Is it odd that I have feelings for him? A ghost?

“Um... here you go. I’m sorry but the only thing that Nick had was this premade, bottled lemonade. I’m not sure how good it is.”

Ellen took the glass. “I am sure it will be fine, Mason.”

He placed the cookies on a small box that he’d been using as a coffee table. “Sorry for the lack of furniture. I’ve not had a lot of time to think about getting any, and to be honest, I’ve not really had the money to even think about it.”

Ellen took a sip of the lemonade. “This is actually quite pleasant, and shortbread cookies are one of my favorites.” She picked one up and took a nibble, then nodded appreciatively.

“Quite nice. Now, Francis was holding off on telling us why he wanted to see us this morning until you had returned.” Ellen turned to Francis expectantly.

Francis held up a finger, silently asking for a second.

He placed his hands behind his back, clasped together.

He paced a few times before speaking. “It was always my intention to make Hobonny a profitable plantation once again.” He stopped and looked at everyone.

“I had an idea of how to make that happen, especially when rice was no longer a viable option. It seems that perhaps I was ahead of my time with the idea I had. Now, it seems that perhaps, what I had in mind was not as crazy an idea as I had once thought.”

Mr. Trudeau took a step forward. “I would very much like to hear your idea. That place has been a financial drain on our family for years.”

Ellen rolled her eyes at her husband. “That may very well be true, but at least now it is paying for itself.”

“I would personally like to thank you, cousin, for keeping the family home within the family,” Francis said, as he moved closer to her. “However,” he looked towards Mr. Trudeau, “I think with an investment, it could once again be profitable, if not make you very wealthy.”

Mr. Trudeau scowled, one eye almost closed. “Go on. I would like to hear this idea.”

Ellen once again frowned at her husband. “Gerald, we do not need any more money. We are quite financially secure.”

“Piffle,” he replied, then motioned for Francis to continue.

Francis began pacing once again, his hands behind his back. “Long ago, when I was a young man, the one thing that my father told me about his mother was her love of oysters and the fresh seafood that was so readily available at Hobonny.” He stopped and looked at Ellen for a moment.

“Just get on with it,” Gerald said.

Francis glanced at him. “It was my intention to remove all the fill soil that my grandfather put into the marsh and try to grow oysters and other mollusks. The biggest issue then was how to get them to market before they spoiled.” He stopped for a moment.

“Now with the advancement of refrigeration,” he looked at Mason to make sure he was speaking correctly, and Mason nodded, “and the availability of multiple types of transportation, I think it is now a viable business venture.”

Mason looked at Ellen, who was smiling broadly. “I do not think that anyone has ever thought of that idea for Hobonny.” She looked at her husband, who was standing only a few feet away from Francis, his mouth slightly open.

“I was told that the oysters just off the coast, which Hobonny borders, were some of the best in the world,” Francis stated.

“This is true,” Gerald said, scratching his chin. “And when they are in season, the prices are astronomical.” He looked at Ellen. “I do think that may actually work.”

Ellen lightly slapped her hands down onto her thighs. “I think that is a brilliant idea!”