Merry, Merry Ghost by Carolyn Hart Page A

tree.”
    I looked from one to the other, puzzled. The Scotch pine in the living room was beautifully decorated. I am partial to taffeta bows on Christmas trees.
    “Bacon, eggs, and French toast coming up.” She turned back to the range.
    “I’m your man.” He pulled up a chair opposite Keith. “Hey, buckaroo, I brought you something special.”
    Keith put down his fork, his thin face eager.
    Tucker made an elaborate show of reaching into his pocket and pulling out a soft leather pouch. He held it up. “Can you guess what’s inside?”
    His face solemn, Keith shook his head.
    Tucker leaned forward, spoke in a stage whisper. “You’ve heard of buried treasure?”
    Keith’s dark eyes widened.
    “Buckaroo, here is a treasure just for you and you can spend it for special things you want.” Tucker loosed the drawstrings, upended the bag. Plastic gold coins tumbled free, creating a pile that looked for all the world like a pirate’s hoard. “Now, here’s what you do. You think about things you’d like to have—maybe a Matchbox car or a spyglass or a cowboy hat—and you tell Cousin Tuck. I’ll find whatever it is or the next best thing and you can give me however many coins you think it’s worth.” Tucker held out a big hand. “Is that a deal, buckaroo?”
    Laughing, Peg set a filled plate before Tucker. “It sounds like you’re trying to turn Keith into a little trader.”
    Tucker finished a piece of bacon. “It’s in the blood. It didn’t matter what we were trading, comic books or girls’ phone numbers, Mitch always won.”
    Duchess walked majestically to the kitchen door, meowed, lifted a paw.
    Peg laughed. “Coming, Your Majesty.” She hurried to the back door.
    Tucker gave Keith a swift glance. “Looks like it’s happened again.” His voice was low. His expression as he stared at Keith was suddenly bleak.
    The door creaked and Peg didn’t hear his words. Cold air flowed inside.
    In the imperious way of cats, Duchess remained in place, tail flicking.
    “Come on, Duchess.” Peg tried to shoo the calico forward.
    Duchess gave her a gimlet stare, then stepped outside.
    The door clicked shut.

    I remembered the earlier sound of a closing door in the upper hallway. I’d watched a little boy at the top of steep stairs and felt a rush of fear. In this warm and cheerful kitchen, Keith seemed utterly safe.
    It was my job to be certain he remained safe.
    CHAP TER FOUR
    G ina rushed into the kitchen. Her black cashmere turtleneck emphasized the rich plum of slacks that flared wide at the bottom.
    I really liked that style, the low snug fit over the hips and a saucy front tie. I’d have to find out what the slacks were called. They were certainly distinctive enough to have a name.
    Gina’s gaze jerked to the counter near the stove and a tray covered with a fine damask napkin. Some of the tension eased from her thin face. “I’ll take Susan’s breakfast up.”
    Peg looked surprised. “That would be nice. I need to fix Keith more French toast.”
    Tucker’s brows drew down in a quick frown. “Hey, let’s get the show on the road. We’ve got to find the right tree.”
    Gina was already picking up the tray. “I need to talk to Susan. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
    As the swinging door shut behind her, Tucker looked exasperated.
    “More coffee?” Peg held up the carafe.
    Tucker nodded, his face drawn in a frown. “Gina’s in trouble, isn’t she?”
    Peg looked hesitant.
    Tucker gripped the mug. “So what else is new? How much does she owe?” His voice was weary.

    Outside Susan’s door, Gina hesitated, then gave a brisk nod. She opened the door and called out,
    “Breakfast.” She carried the tray to the table near Susan’s chair in front of the fake fire.
    Susan wore no makeup, but her lovely face looked younger. She smiled at Gina. “Thank you, my dear. I suppose Peg is busy with Keith.” Her smile grew wider, her eyes shone. “Oh, what a happy day. Gina, I haven’t had a