Read Merry, Merry Ghost for Free Online

a book by Doris Kearns Goodwin, a bright Christmas tie with green wreaths against a red background, a red-and-black plaid wool hunting cap, a wall calendar for wine lovers, and a Christmas-scene paperweight.
    An angular woman with frosty hair and oversize glasses observed him with a dry but fond smile. “Harrison, I doubt anyone is interested in our accommodations.” Her tone was indulgent, not chiding.
    Light from the fire reflecting from his bifocals, Harrison grinned. “There speaks a wife who’s heard all of this before. But hey, how many people from Adelaide have spent the night in an igloo and slept on a motored bed, much less dined in an igloo restaurant with ice tables?”
    “Motored bed?” A lanky young man with dark curly hair and a stubbled chin—had shaving gone out of fashion?—stretched booted feet lazily toward the fire. He looked exceedingly masculine in a fragile-appearing gilt chair. His Western-style shirt fitted him snugly and his Levi’s were white with age. “Does the bed have spark plugs, Harrison? Maybe fins? A retro motored bed?”
    The hall door squeaked.
    The older blonde winced. “That hinge needs oil. Tucker, why don’t you see about it?”
    The young man’s shrug was indifferent but appealing, as if he’d help if he could but that would take effort and the fire was too entrancing, the conversation too amusing. “I do enough oiling on the ranch, auntie.”
    The middle-aged blonde wriggled unhappily. “Don’t call me auntie. It makes me sound like a hillbilly with missing teeth.”
    He grinned. “Sorry, Jake. Forever young, that’s our revered aunt. I forgot myself in the emotion of the moment, confronting the possibility of a motored bed and the joys of staying in a glass igloo. Glass sounds more appealing than ice. Isn’t that how igloos are customarily made, with big chunks of ice?” His eyes gleamed with mirth. “Who would have thought as we gathered for Harrison’s birthday that he would share this amazing tidbit of knowledge with us. Obviously, Harrison, you are a connoisseur of Christmas lore. Tell us, what are the Christmas customs in Hawaii?”
    Harrison grinned. “You pulled the wrong string, Tucker. I am a walking encyclopedia of Christmas trivia. I always try to learn something new for each birthday. In Hawaii, Santa Claus arrives on a bright red outrigger.”
    “Man, that sounds like my idea of Christmas.” Tucker looked toward the door. “Hey, Peg, Gina. What fascinating tidbits about Santa can you share? Me, I like the idea of wassail and lots of it.” He reached out, gripped a poker, and jabbed at a log. Sparks whirled upward.
    I am not a fan of apple cider laced with sweet juices, but I was very hungry. I hovered near the buffet. If I were adroit…I glanced around the room. Every eye was on Peg. Though it lacked manners, I decided to forgo a plate. I could easily carry several chunks of cheese and some strawberries and crackers in my hand. I moved fast and no one noticed the tidbits in the air. I dropped far enough behind the sofa that I could eat without notice but still see everyone.

    Peg stood stiffly by the opened doors. “I have exciting news.” Her voice was brisk but her face looked strained. The calico cat walked purposefully toward the fireplace and settled on a green silk cushion and began to groom.
    The strawberries were succulent. I glanced toward the small bowl of sour cream on the sideboard. That would have been nice, but I wasn’t trying to indulge myself. I was simply building up strength. The crackers snapped as I munched. Fortunately the fire crackled at the same time. Too soon my snack was gone. I was tempted to forage again for food, but instead settled on an empty settee.
    Gina skirted around Peg, walked toward the buffet. “We have company.” Her tone was neutral. She took a plate, spread pâté on several crackers.
    Tucker looked eager. “A gorgeous redhead maybe?”
    Startled, I looked down. Not a trace of my sweater or