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They say that even old Andrew Jackson was afraid of her, that she pulled people’s hair and threw the children around and even caused the death of the master of the house. You refuse to accept anything that isn’t cut-and-dried, and you’re blind to things going on in your own house!”
    Matt leaned against the door frame, smiling. “Clara, once again, I believe that people can make things real with their imaginations.”
    â€œYou think old Andy Jackson was an imaginative guy?”
    â€œYou’d have to show me written proof that Andrew Jackson was afraid of a ghost. And I don’t mean any hearsay on a Discovery program or even in a book of ghost stories.”
    Clara pointed a finger at him. “You’d better do something, before the stories about this house become so real that no one will pay for the tours. You can’t keep this place up on a sheriff’s salary alone.”
    â€œThank you, Clara. I’ll take that under advisement. But then again, you know, Penny is certain that a documented haunting would make us as rich as Midas.”
    Clara was startled when Matt frowned suddenly and walked over to her. “What happened to your face?”
    â€œTo my face?” Clara frowned as well, and walked over to the mirror. Her cheek was red and mottled, as if she’d been slapped, and slapped hard.
    She turned and stared at him. “Ghosts don’t menace people, huh?”
    â€œClara,” Matt said. “Think about it! You must have run into something in your hurry to get out of the room!”
    Clara eyed him sharply and shook her head. “Matt, the stories have circulated for years. People have sworn that they’ve seen soldiers in the downstairs rooms. They’ve seen a lady in white, floating down the stairway. Ghosts that fit in with history. It’s only been in recent years, since your grandfather died, that things have gotten really serious. Remember how Randy Gustav quit after staying a night in the Lee Room? He wouldn’t even explain what happened to you. It’s only in the last few years that…that the ghosts kind of threaten to get violent.”
    â€œThere are no such things as ghosts.”
    â€œOh, yeah? One just gave me a bruise!”
    With that, Clara indignantly walked out on him, calling back over her shoulder, “Matt, you’re a hell of a man. That’s why I’m staying. Believe it or don’t, but you’d better do something about that particular ghost—that doesn’t exist in your mind.”
    Â 
    That evening, having returned home very late from work, Matt sat at the desk in his suite in the main house, going through correspondence.
    There was a tap at his door.
    â€œCome in.”
    Penny stuck her head in. “Am I bothering you, Matt?”
    â€œNot at all.”
    She walked in and sat on the corner of his desk. “Matt, you have to do something over this latest episode with Clara.”
    â€œOh?” He leaned back in his chair.
    â€œClara was hurt!”
    â€œPenny, please. I’m sorry, I think the world of Clara, we’re friends from way back, and I gave her the rest of the day off with pay. She had to have run into something.”
    Penny shook her head.
    He leaned forward suddenly, abruptly. “Penny, you wouldn’t be playing some kind of game up there, determined to convince the rest of the world, if not me, that the place is haunted?”
    She gaped at him in such affront that he was immediately sorry.
    â€œMatt, I would never —”
    â€œBut maybe someone would.”
    â€œMaybe,” Penny agreed grudgingly. She wagged a finger at him. “You know, you are far too trusting at times. Too many people could have access to this place.”
    â€œPenny, I’m not too trusting. We’re a fairly small town.”
    Penny shook her head decisively. “You’re right, of course. But you’ve got to remember that even in our