He drove along the river road until he saw a swinging sign that read Jessup's Bed and Breakfast. He pulled into the circular drive and parked behind a couple of cars and a van. The two and a half story white house had large columns and sprawled out in a Victorian style. Tower rooms sat on the east side and it had a full front porch with a balcony on top of it. The peeling paint on the house contrasted with the immaculate yard.


James noticed the fragrance of roses as he approached the house. There weren't any other structures close to the bed and breakfast, except for a couple of out buildings. James instantly liked the solitude. He could hear the river running in the valley behind the house. Resisting the temptation to follow the sound, he walked up the wide sidewalk. The fallen elm leaves crunched under his feet and the footlights reminded him of little soldiers standing straight in a row along the cracked concrete.


An oversized gold knocker adorned the front door and James clanged it a couple of times.


A middle-aged woman, wearing a white apron over her dark dress, greeted him.


"Hello, welcome to Jessup's Bed and Breakfast." She ran her hand across her gray and brown hair, smoothing it. She didn't have to worry about a strand coming lose from the tightly pulled bun--none the less--she smoothed it.


"Do you have any rooms?"


"All I have left is a small attic room. If you're interested I can show it to you."


"Oh, you have a lot of guests." James didn't like the idea of staying in a house that was full of people. It seemed different than staying in a hotel. "The way I understand it, there aren't any motels close by."


"There isn't. There's an Inn in town but it's full. Would you like to see the room?" The big bosomed lady held the door open and James scrunched sideways as he passed her.


From the foyer, he could see the large sitting room.The Louis XV sofa sat against the far wall and across from it sat two matching armchairs. Heavy red velvet material made up the upholstery and all three pieces were trimmed in exotic palissandre wood.


James wandered into the room and touched the arm of the sofa. Then he noticed a beautiful Baroque picture frame. He walked close to the fireplace to get a better look. The frame was exquisite and it held a painting of a beautiful woman with silky blond curls, she wore a light blue dress with a lace collar, and held a bouquet of lilacs. James thought about how long it took to paint a portrait of that size. He hated sitting still for school photographs.


"Ah-hmm." The lady cleared her throat.



"I'm sorry." James felt the tips of his ears grow hot.



"I was just admiring the furniture in this room. Did you purchase it locally?" James sauntered back into the foyer.


"Goodness no. It's been in my family for years. You couldn't buy anything close to this around here."


"You can't? I came here to purchase a French armoire. It's made of mahogany and has the original hardware."


"Oh don't get me wrong there are some beautiful antiques in this area. Many the homes are very old and have some of the original furniture. Do you mind if I ask who you're buying it from?"


"Harold Benson."


"The mayor? Well he does have a nice shop. How in the world did you get hooked up with him?"


"Hooked up?"


"Yeah, you know. How did you meet him?" The lady turned toward the back of the house and motioned for James to follow.


"I haven't met him yet. I've talked to him on the phone."


"I see." She panted hard and paused catching her breath every few steps.


James couldn't see her face but the tone of her voice seemed to imply something, although James couldn't figure out just what. Maybe she's just having a hard time talking and climbing the stairs at the same time.


They reached the second floor. James saw a dark lacquered four-poster bed as he passed one room. A collection of Civil War pictures adorned the walls along the hallway. James paused to look at one. The man held a gun that towered over him and his hat appeared to be a size too big.


The lady stopped at the end of the hallway before she realized James wasn't behind her. She came back to where James stood peering at the photos.


"That's my great-uncle--tiny man--barely five foot tall." She brushed her hand across the top of the picture frame and wiped it on her apron. "These are all local men, most of them never made it home from the war."


"Do you have any documents about the Civil War?"


"Yes, I believe I do. I don't have time right now to search for them, but I have more pictures, some old letters and some other papers. I never paid much attention to them. They've been here for years. Do you think I should display them? I thought about changing one of the bedchambers into a Civil War Room. Lot of men like the war history."


"I'd be very interested in seeing them."


"How long are you planning on staying?"


"I'd only planned on being here a couple of days, then maybe going on to Black Water Falls. I'm an accountant and this is my slow season. I can stay as long as I want but I blocked out two weeks for my vacation. It'd be worth an extra couple of days to see the Civil War memorabilia.”


"I can't make any promises; I'm very busy with the tourists right now."


James started to ask why there were so many tourists in this sleepy little back-woods town, but she was already at the end of the hall, holding the door open.


"Be careful now, these steps are narrow and steep. Like I said, we don't usually rent out this room, but with all the motels and the inn being full; we went ahead and made it up."


Another door was at the top of the stairs. The woman went on in.


James felt another flash back in history, as he looked around the small, sparse, nothing fancy, perfect room. James eyed the furniture realizing the antiqueness of it. He knew if he pulled the drawers out of the small dresser they'd be dove-tailed and the bottom of the hand carved chest would be embellished with the signature of the maker. The room smelled old and musty but he could handle that. At least it was private. He walked over and pulled the lacy sheers back. He looked left and right taking in the panoramic view. The steep gorge rumbled as the blue-green water rushed down into the valley. The other side of the ravine leveled off before it went straight up a pine covered mountain. He felt awed as he gazed at the soft rolling mountains. They looked like a giant sculptured carpet.


He turned to examine the twin size iron bed with the heavy patchwork quilt that covered it.


"We didn't have enough room in here for a bigger bed. What do you think?"


"It's a great room. The bed's big enough for me. I'll take it."


"We're glad to have you Mister?"


"Freeman. James Freeman."


"I'm Lavina Franklin. I'll have Carolyn, my niece bring you some water." She picked up the pitcher and tipped it at the bowl as if she expected water to come pouring out. James thought the pitcher, added ambiance to the décor. He never dreamed he’d be expected to use it.

"Where's the shower?"


"Oh, it's on the first floor. There's one on the second floor for those guests, but this room shares the first floor bathroom." She noticed James's doubtful look. "You'll really like it here, Mr. Freeman. It's a bit inconvenient but the quiet is worth it. Wouldn't you agree?"


"I'm not so sure, I've never been this far from the bathroom. What the heck, I'm adventuresome," he joked. He liked everything organized, neat and quiet. His strictness contributed to his singleness. It seemed that most people married before they turned twenty-eight. Single and liking it.


Dealing with people all the time drained him. Shortly after James’s 15th birthday his father suffered a massive heart attack and died. He left them financially set, but emotionally his mom broke down. James tried to make up for his dad's absence but his mom never completely recovered. James and antique shopping made her happy, everything else in life wore her down. When he got his driver’s license, he wanted to keep her spirits up so he drove her all over Virginia and Maryland in search of antiques.


They lived in a big house in Washington D.C. and she filled it with old furniture. She dreamed of owning her own antique shop. By the time James turned eighteen, he realized his mother didn't know much about antiques and most of the stuff she bought turned out to be replicas.


Lavina pasted a smile on her face and stuck out her hand. "Glad to have you."


Her hand felt clammy and James shivered. She didn't notice.


"We have brunch at one and a continental breakfast that's available in the morning until nine am. I don't have a bellboy but I'll help you with your luggage."


"No, that's fine. I didn't bring much."


Lavina held the door open. "We also have a social hour from nine until ten every evening, if you're interested. We serve cider and cheese. Some people enjoy playing cards or checkers. Weather permitting we have it on the balcony. I'll show you the doorway."


"That's okay. I'll probably be reading during that time." James looked at the oil lamp on the night table then chuckled to himself as he pulled the chain on the ceiling fan that included a round globe and four hobnail shaded light bulbs surrounding it.


James got his luggage from the back of his pick-up. He stuffed the brochures and photographs of the armoire into his briefcase. His cell phone blinked at him and he checked his messages. He knew the only people who would be calling him were his partner or one of his more prominent clients.


He listened to the voice of his partner, George Harrison. "Hey Jammer, just wanted to check on you. Things are fine here. Glad you're so organized, the people from Bradley called today, but I found their file and I can take care of them. Anyway, don't worry about anything here. Enjoy yourself. You don't need to call me back. I'll check in with you next week."


Good old George, James thought, what would I have done without him? George with his booming voice and eyebrows like a great horned owl was a real character. Seemed that the hair he'd lost off his head settled over his eyes. When I get back he and his wife should go on a vacation.


James slipped the cell phone in his shirt pocket, slung his leather duffle bag over one shoulder and his briefcase strap over the other. He didn't bring a lot of luggage but the bags he carried were overstuffed and he looked comical trying to balance the two on his shoulder and carry the bigger suitcase at the same time. The duffle bag kept slipping off his shoulder and he had to set the suitcase down to re-adjust it.


He opened the door and braced his back against it as he juggled his luggage in front of him, trying not to drop anything.


"Do you need help Mister Freeman?" Lavina reached for the suitcase.


"No, I'm fine." James offered a smile. She seemed like a kind lady. "Do I pay you?"


"Yes, you can pay when you come down for brunch." Lavina pointed to the right. James looked into the room. If his load hadn't been so heavy he would have gone in and examined the Cherry Secretary that sat against the side wall. He didn't have a clear view of the rest of the room, but he was anxious to see what it contained.


James nodded and fumbled his way towards the stairs. He got half way up the first set of stairs when a young woman almost ran him down. She was bouncing down the steps and reading a brochure at the same time. James's suitcase banged against the wall.


"Oh, I'm sorry." She brushed one of her many thick dark curls from her forehead and climbed back up three steps so she could look into James's eyes. "I'm Margie. I'm staying in the Lincoln room. I'm so excited. I was reading about the Ghost Walk. Are you here for the Ghost Walk? You know there was a man murdered here a couple of weeks ago and they think it was the Ghost of Nathaniel Jessup that caused his demise. Isn't that wonderful? I don't mean that the man was killed, but that the troubled souls are so active in this area. So, are you as excited as I am?"


"I didn't know anything about it." James rested his suitcase on the step, bracing it with his knee, and crunched his lean body as tight as he could against the wall to give her plenty of room to pass him. She looked as perky as she sounded. James guessed she was maybe four feet eleven approximately twenty-one or twenty-two. Probably from Ohio, she talked rapidly, pronouncing each word clearly. She reminded him of a cheer leader, big breasted with a tiny waist.


"Well, why in the world are you here if not for the Ghost Walk? I didn't know there was anything else in this area. Do you think a man was really murdered here or do you think it's a publicity stunt?"


"A couple of local men told me a man died recently." James shifted his duffle bag. "Nice meeting you, Margie. I'd better get this stuff on up to my room."


"You remembered my name. Most people don't remember my name. They call me Martha and Maggie. I don't remember names very well. If you told me your name now, I'd forget it in two minutes. What is your name?"


"James."


"Okay, Jim, I'll let you get to your room. I'm sure I'll see you later."


He was about to tell her his name was James, not Jim, but she bounced on down the stairs. His mom called him Jimmy and in grammar school he was called Jim but in high school he decided he preferred James. His Dad had always called him Jammer. By the time James was fourteen he was close to six feet tall and his dad had thought he'd play basketball in high school and maybe get a scholarship to college. Instead he joined the swim team. He did get a scholarship but it wasn't because of his sports.


Good old George found out that James's nickname was Jammer and that's what he called him unless there was a client around. James started working with George and his brother Gary while he was still in college. On his twenty-sixth birthday, George, Gary and their wives took James and his mom out to Golden Gourmet, an exclusive restaurant in Baltimore, Maryland. They asked James to swing by the office to look at one of their accounts on his way home. He thought they were real slave drivers to make him work on the evening of his birthday but he really didn't mind. He was a workaholic and often took work home with him. While George paid the check, James's mother excused herself and went to the powder room. She was in there so long that James started to worry. She seemed to be in good health, but at her age you just never knew. Finally, she came out smiling like a Cheshire cat. He was glad she was having such a good time.


When he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed that George and Gary's cars were in the lot. His mom giggled and pointed at the sign. Two small spot lights illuminated the sign that read: "Harrison, Harrison and Freeman." James hadn't expected them to make him a full partner so quickly. He took a deep breath and continued his trek.


James lumbered up the rest of the stairs and squeezed up the next set to his room. He sniffed the air as he entered and dropped his luggage. Lilacs. He looked for fresh flowers, but there were none. The room looked the same, except for the neatly folded colonial blue hand towels and a washcloth which lay beside the pitcher and bowl. He poured some water into the bowl and splashed his face. As he dabbed the towel on his face, he peered into the discolored, speckled mirror that hung over the dresser.


The beveled cut-glass, frameless mirror bore too much damage to be of any value, but it added charm to the room.


He stared at his reflection. Appearance was not a big issue to him, however, he noticed the heavy bags and dark circles around his eyes. It shocked him when he looked in a mirror and his father's deep set hazel eyes looked back at him. He took his right index finger and pulled on his lower lid.


James's could hear his mom saying, "You are the spitting image of your dad when he was a young man." She said it often, but James could never see the resemblance, until now. His hair was still thick and dark, he had a strong jaw line like his dad, but thank goodness he had his mom's straight nose. He released his eyelid and rubbed his chin. He could wait until morning to shave. In fact, he may not shave at all while he was on vacation.


What, he wondered, was he suppose to do with the water he'd washed in? He looked around the room and noticed something else he hadn't seen before. Surely not, he thought, as he looked at the chamber pot. It must be to pour the dirty water in. He couldn't bring himself to remove the lid, so he slung the water from the bowl out the window.


He placed his briefcase on the nightstand and his suitcase and duffle bag on the bed. Then he realized there wasn't a closet in the room. He spotted a couple of brass hooks on the back of the door. He didn't bring a suit with him, but he did bring a tan sports jacket. He hung the jacket on one of the hooks and put the rest of his clothes in the drawers. The neatly pressed shirts still had the laundry service band around them.


He'd brought his laptop but he probably wouldn't be able to pickup WIFI out here in the boonies. He pulled the Civil War Novel, "Glory Hallelujah", and the brochures about the area from his briefcase, and placed the briefcase containing the laptop in a drawer by itself. He looked at the clock which read nine fifteen, it was a wind-up clock and it needed winding. His wristwatch told him it was ten minutes until brunch. His stomach told him it was an hour past his lunchtime.


James paused at the entrance to the dining room. He was surprised at the nostalgic Victorian Dining area. He'd expected a cafeteria setting. The long antique cherry wood table sat in the center of the room with matching padded chairs. The buffet and china hutch matched the table perfectly. In the center of the table were several serving dishes that matched the fine bone china that were placed at exactly the same distance apart around the table. James knew the goblets were real crystal.


He could smell fresh squeezed orange juice, blueberry pancakes and sage. Platters of Country Ham, fried chicken and seasoned sausage were in the center of the table surrounded by crepes, quiches, and an assortment of potatoes, fried, mashed and hash browned. Various hot breads and muffins were on each end of the table. Gravy boats, jam bowls and butter dishes were scattered between the main dishes. James almost licked his lips.


"Over here." Margie stood up and waved at James. "Come sit across from us."


The tips of James's ears turned red, he held his head steady and only moved his eyes to scan the other guests.



Just as he thought, everyone was looking at him. He felt

like leaving, but instead he ducked his head and walked

toward the far end of the room where Margie still stood

by her chair. He didn't notice the swinging door to his

right or the young lady who came out it backwards

carrying a big tray of drinks.

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