31 Ghosts — Home Repair, Part 2

Like waiting for contractors, part 2 of Home Repair took a little longer than expected. If you haven’t read the first part of Erin and Matt’s encounter with their ghosts, check it out here. There’s a third part coming tomorrow, but this wraps up Erin and Matt…

Erin had no interest in home renovations. Or ghosts.

When she and Matt found this house it checked all their boxes – quiet neighborhood, walkable stores and restaurants, two stories and enough room for home offices and a guest room. Erin handled all the home inspections and walk-throughs because Matt’s job kept him on the road. But the house was perfect as-is.

Originally built in 1968, there was mention of a major renovation in the late ‘90s that took care of a lot of the flaws inherent in an old house. But the home inspector confirmed the house had good bones, and Erin verified everything was above-board and permitted, so when she and Matt closed escrow, they were confident they had their dream house.

Except for the ghost.

The first few weeks were calm. Then came the footsteps. Matt rationalized it as the house settling. But the first time Erin found all the kitchen cabinets and drawers opened, they knew they had a ghost.

The first time Matt was out of town and the ghost walked the length of the downstairs, Erin felt real fear. So, she leaned on her professional expertise. As a Director of Operational Excellence, Erin refused to call their new haunting “paranormal.” She didn’t even call it a ghost – it was an “unidentified variable in an otherwise stable system.”

Matt laughed the first time Erin referred to their haunting that way.

“That’s exactly what it is,” Erin said incredulously.

Matt caught his breath and kissed her forehead, “Dr. Keller, that’s exactly why I love you.”

She observed the problem rationally, studied the anomaly, and determined that while disruptive, it really wasn’t worth disrupting the entire system.

While Matt appreciated his wife’s approach to their haunting and ultimately agreed to treat it as a new live-in tenant, he also refused to call it an “anomaly” or “variable.”

He named it George.

The overhead lights illuminated a scene that froze Erin’s breath in her chest – the chairs and table that normally sat against the repaired wall and window were all pushed back against the cabinets and stove, deliberately moved as far from the wall as the room allowed. All chairs except one, that is, which sat alone, its back against the newly finished wall facing them. Erin swallowed hard as she noticed the depression on the cushion of the chair. As they watched, the chair creaked as if under a weight.

“That isn’t George,” Matt said.

And then the lights went out.

Matt’s brain bypassed fight or flight and went straight to freeze. In the darkness next to him he heard a deep sigh.

It was Erin. “Well,” her words were calm and measured, “this is a deviation from the established behavioral baseline.” She clicked the light on, took in the scene again, and then turned and went back up to bed.

“Erin?” Matt caught up with her on the stairs. “Are you okay?”

Erin stopped, “No, honey, I’m pissed and a little terrified. But neither is going to solve anything tonight. I’m going to put in my earplugs, put on my eye mask and salvage what I can of the rest of this evening. I have a meeting at nine, and the shuttle for your flight is at ten.”

Matt nodded at his wife. “You’re right. You’re right…”

Before she climbed back into bed, Erin went to use the bathroom and found all the cabinets and drawers open. “Huh,” was all she said.

“How’s Nashville?”

“Oh, you know, country music, bachelorette parties, and a lot of fried food.”

“So, you’re having a good time?”

Matt laughed, “When I get out of the conference center, sure. One of our crates coming from Munich was caught in customs, so we set up what we could but we’re hoping we can finish in the morning.”

“That sucks,” Erin said as she ate her take-out curry. A door slammed violently nearby.

“What was that?”

Erin took another bite, “Our new anomaly.”

“Oh, Norman.”

“You’ve named it Norman?”

“You said you thought this might be related to the fact this ghost didn’t appear until after that wall – the only wall left standing from the original 1968 house – was renovated. And I figured no one named Norman was ever cool in the 1960s.”

Erin laughed, “I love you, honey.”

“How is George handling things?”

“He seems to have retreated upstairs – there was the bathroom thing the other night and then I walked by your office upstairs and he’d opened all the drawers on your desk.”

“Huh,” Matt said. “What door did Norman just slam?”

“He didn’t.”

“Come again?”

“That’s the new twist – doors are slamming that don’t exist. Two lights on the same switch, and only one of them goes out. Flip the switch and they both come back. Footsteps are going through walls… I think it’s related to the renovation in the ‘90s, but I’m not exactly sure how. I’m having lunch with Kimmy tomorrow and I’m going to run it by her.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s an architect, right?”

“Historic preservation architect,” Erin corrected. “We had our monthly catch-up lunch scheduled anyway, I figured I’d run this by her and see if she had any ideas.”

“Good call, Dr. Keller.”

“Thank you, Mr. Keller,” Erin smiled through the phone connection.

Kim rolled her eyes. “You can call it a ghost, Cal.”

Erin scowled, “And you can call me Erin.”

“I’m preserving your history, Ms. Callahan,” Kim smirked.

“You just still hate that I went to Berkeley for grad school.”

“You bleed Cardinal Red, my dear Cal,” she smiled. “And you’re doing an amazing job of deflecting right now.”

“Fine, Kimmy,” she emphasized the nickname. “The second ghost is starting to get violent.”

“How so?” Kim’s demeanor turned serious.

“This morning I was pushed on the stairs.”

“You didn’t fall, though?”

Erin shook her head. “No, caught me off guard, but… it feels like an escalation.”

Kim nodded slowly. “And you think I can help?”

“I don’t know,” Erin looked around before pulling rolled up blueprints out of her bag and spreading them out on the white tablecloth over their place settings.

“You brought blueprints, Cal?” Kim said as she took her reading glasses out of her purse.

“This is the floor plan from the original 1968 house.”

“Okay…”

“And these are the renovation plans from ’96.”

Kim scowled. “That’s a different house…”

“You’d think, right?” Erin pointed to a section outlined in yellow highlighter. “That’s the south wall – the only wall they kept during the renovation.”

“One-wall teardown?” Kim said with disgust. “Vultures…”

“From a preservation standpoint, I agree. But I like my second story and extra bedrooms.” She held her hands up defensively, “I didn’t build it, I just bought it.”

Kim shifted back to the blueprints and frowned in concentration. After a long moment she pointed to the stairs on the ’96 sheet, “You say you were pushed on the stairs. Where exactly?”

“Near the bottom – there,” Erin pointed just a few steps before the bottom. “Does that matter?”

“It might,” Kim nodded slowly. “Look at the circulation in the original house. This was the main hallway.” She traced it on the ’68 drawings with her finger. “And here’s where the new stairs cut across it. If your hypothesis is right and the ghost remembers the original house, then the path where you keep hearing those footsteps crosses right here.” 

Erin looked between the two drawings. “Where I was standing.” 

“Exactly. Maybe you weren’t pushed as provocation. Maybe you were just in the way.”

“Honey, I’m home,” Matt said as he dragged his roller bag into the foyer.

“I love it when you say it like that,” Erin smiled, coming down the stairs. She paused for a moment before coming all the way down then hurried down and kissed her husband.

“What’s with the pause on the stairs?” he said after the kiss. Then added, looking around, “Did you rearrange the furniture?”

“Some of it,” Erin confirmed releasing her husband and moving to the stairs. “I think I figured out Norman’s issues and how to mitigate them.”

“…Okay,” Matt looked skeptical.

“Norman is moving through the 1968 house. We have things in his way. That’s why he pushed me on the stairs…”

“Wait, he pushed you on the stairs?” Matt said, a note of concern in his voice.

“I didn’t mention that?” Erin gave her best innocent look. “I probably didn’t want you to worry…”

“Well, I’m worried.”

“That’s the pause,” she pointed right and left of the stairs. “The original hallway came right through here. Norman is just following the original circulation pattern.”

“Circulation pattern…” Matt nodded.

“Like, here,” Erin moved into the dining room. “This hutch was right in the path as well – that’s why he started breaking dishes. He didn’t mean to, he just bumped the hutch and the dishes fell. I moved it a few feet this way and haven’t lost a dish yet.”

“You… didn’t mention the dishes either.”

Erin moved to Matt and put her arms around him. “You were three time zones away. If I told you everything you would have worried and couldn’t have done anything.”

“Yes, but…”

“…But nothing. I stabilized the system. There are still footsteps and doors closing, but we’re back to livable.”

“You, me, and our two ghosts,” Matt laughed nervously.

“George and Norman,” Erin confirmed.

Erin woke up suddenly. Nothing had woken her…

She held her breath and listened, really paying attention to every sound – Matt’s little snory-snores… but that was it. The house was silent. She listened longer… Footsteps… Upstairs… Down the hallway.

“Do you hear that?” Matt whispered.

Erin put her hand on his shoulder in silent acknowledgement.

They listened as the footsteps slowly, cautiously, started down the stairs one at a time.

“I think George is going back downstairs,” Erin whispered with a smile.

31 Ghosts — Two Double Beds

Made it to DC! Unfortunately, after traveling all day (…and losing three hours…), I’m just wiped out. So, we’re keeping it short again today. And, for the record, there’s only one bed in this room…

When I travel for work, I really don’t care whether the room has a queen bed, or two doubles – it’s just me in the room, so if there’s a second bed there then it’s likely just a place for my suitcase to go. So when I checked into the Grandwell Capitol Gateway it was after ten at night. By the time I got to my room, I didn’t think about the fact that there were two double beds. It was late already and I opened my suitcase on the couch to get my sleep clothes and then just crashed in the left bed.

When my alarm went off the next morning, I noticed the covers were pulled back on the second bed. I frowned wondering whether the housekeeping services had cut corners on making that second bed… but I would have sworn both beds were made exactly the same.

I got back to my room late after we had a work networking dinner with clients and was pleased to see both beds were made exactly the same. The next morning, though, not only were the covers pulled back, but they looked rumpled – just as rumpled as my own slept-in bed. I went directly to the front door and inspected the deadlock and privacy lock – both locked from within. I stared at the unkempt bed with a frown and fought the urge to think there was something supernatural going on – but how do you explain it?

Another conference day, another networking mixer. Just like the previous day, housekeeping had made both beds perfectly. This time I put a piece of tape across the inside of the door after engaging the deadbolt and privacy lock. I even went so far as to put my closed checked luggage on the bed.

I wasn’t exactly smiling when I climbed into my bed, but I was at least secure in the knowledge that no one would get in or get into that bed without alerting me.

So, when I awoke just after three in the morning, I chalked it up to the noisy air conditioner coming on.

And then I felt the covers on the far side of my bed slowly get pulled back and felt weight on the mattress.

31 Ghosts – Out of Office

Keeping it short today again because I still have to pack for a 9am flight to DC tomorrow…

“Dale, where are we on the Hoffman project?” the message popped up on our work Jabber chat from my boss.

“Shit,” I said aloud. I was not, in fact, working on the Hoffman project at that moment. No, I was multi-tasking between the Universal installation and the new TelSys configuration – that and about a dozen other things that kept bubbling to the surface. The Hoffman project was last week’s supernova.

I pulled up the most recent email thread – okay, I was waiting on Taylor to get me the schematic. I replied to the message asking, “Hey, Taylor – do you know what’s up with the schematic? When can we expect it?” I hit send and switched back to Jabber where I started typing, “Still working on it: waiting on the — ” a ding indicated a new email. I switched back to my email and my blood ran cold.

On its face, it was an innocuous Out of Office message from Taylor. “Thank you for your email. I’m currently out of the office and will be back at my desk on October 5th. If you need immediate help, please don’t hesitate to reach out to anyone in our Sales team at 707-555-1212. Thank you, Taylor O’Reilly.”

However, today is October 9th and Taylor isn’t at his desk.

Taylor was killed in a plane crash returning home on Saturday, October 3rd.

Of course, I knew he was… gone. The shock of losing Taylor was still palpable through the office. Everyone loved Taylor – he’d been with the company for ten years and was practically an institution… I guess the fact that I forgot he wasn’t with us and just fired off that email on muscle memory says something about Taylor – everyone could count on him.

Except when you couldn’t because he was gone.

“Goddamn it,” I said and rubbed my eyes. I looked at the clock – it was after six.

Deleting the Jabber message I’d started I wrote, “I was working on that with Taylor. I’ll see where we left off Monday morning.” Sent.

A moment later, “Sounds good. Taylor is missed. Thanks, Dale.”

I was done. That Out of Office was a gut punch I didn’t expect. I let out a long sigh and locked my computer and stood up to gather my things to go home. I felt a buzz in my pocket – an incoming email on my work phone. I reflexively opened the message and moved to sit back down in case I needed to unlock the computer to deal with whatever it was. My eyes scanned the email header and I fell hard to my seat.

“Hey Dale, sorry I’m late on the schematic – the latest is attached. The source files are on my PC – Eliot should be able to get you access if you need it. It was great working with you. You all will be fine. Sincerely, Taylor.”