Ghost of a Chance Page 2

James let out a low whistle. “Maybe I should have bowed to you, then,” he smirked at Ryan. “Congratulations. I mean, I'm sorry for your loss. But you'd never met the Earl?” He maneuvered through narrow country lanes quickly.

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “If you bow I'll behead you. No, I never met him. Never talked to him. Didn't even know about him until after he was gone. It's kinda sad, I guess, but he wanted to keep everything in the family, you know? So that would be me.” He hoped James wasn't intimidated. “So, have you been in the castle?"

  James shook his head. “Never been in there. I've hiked the area, so I've seen the outside, but I've only been here a couple of years. The Earl used to host a holiday party every year, invited the whole town. I hear it's quite nice, though, a bit big and drafty. So I suppose this is all quite a shock for you then?"

  "Yeah. A huge shock. I got to pay off my mom's mortgage, though. That was cool. She's gonna come over here at Christmas with my stepdad and little brother.” He stared up at the building coming into view at the end of the drive. “Whoa,” he said breathily.

  A long row of flickering lights illuminated the curving driveway. They led to a massive stone building that looked as if it had been built a thousand years ago. The castle was in fact a bit younger than that, and had been modernized extensively, but it was said that this site had been owned by the family for as long as there were records.

  "Impressive,” James agreed as they pulled to a stop in front. “At least there seems to be electricity."

  Ryan almost jumped out of the car before it stopped moving. “Come on!” he said, waving at James to follow. He jogged up to the front door. There was a lock box next to a bush. He punched in number the solicitor had given him and the box popped open to reveal a ring of keys inside. He held it up and rattled it at James triumphantly. “Haha, the keys to the castle,” he said, laughing.

  James followed him to the massive front doors. “I wonder if the butler has the night off,” he quipped, smiling at Ryan's excitement.

  Ryan opened the door and went inside the cavernous entry hall. “The solicitor said he pensioned all the servants off when the old Earl died. They just had a cleaning crew in a couple of days ago to like dust and air stuff out.” He stared up at the three-story ceiling. “Fuck. Look at this place..."

  James looked up, and up. The entryway was dominated by a huge, spiraling staircase that clearly had been added, perhaps in the last hundred years or so. Off to either side were wide, tall hallways that led to shadowy rooms. The entryway light was the only illumination, casting ominous shadows. “Wow."

  Beside the door there was a small antique table, and atop it was an envelope with his name on it. Ryan picked it up and scanned the letter inside. “It says there's a room straight ahead, with a video cued up that I'm supposed to watch.” He looked up at James. “Wanna watch it with me? Or, I mean, you probably have other things to do with your evening than babysit a clueless stranger.” He shrugged a little. “Sorry."

  "I'd love to watch it with you,” James said. “I'm having more fun than I've had in ages.” He found a light switch that illuminated the hall in front of them.

  Ryan smiled and ventured forward, opening a door and fumbling for another light switch. When it was lit, they saw a huge, luxurious room. Above a massive fireplace was an equally huge flat screen television. Before it was an overstuffed sofa, and a low table with an elaborate remote control. Ryan sat on the couch and touched the miniature screen on the remote and it came to life. “I wonder what it's gonna be?"

  James sat on the couch next to Ryan, looking around in wonder. “Who knows? Maybe the place is cursed.” He paused. “Actually, this place is supposed to be haunted."

  "Haunted?” Ryan said, laughing a little. It seemed ridiculous, when he was in this very modern room filled with the latest in home entertainment systems. “Yeah, right.” He examined the remote, trying to puzzle it out. He pressed the power button, then hit ‘play'. The screen flickered on, and an image of an old man in a hospital-like bed strangely juxtaposed amid the opulent luxury of what had to be the master suite appeared. Another man, younger and wearing a conservative suit, hovered over him adjusting a microphone under his chin.

  The injured man wheezed for a moment, various machines beeping all around him. “Now that it's come to this,” he began slowly, “I hardly know what to say.” He paused for a moment as a nurse stepped up to the bed on the opposite side of the man in the suit, then continued. “By the time you see this, you will be the Earl of Elgin. I know that means nothing to you, but it means a great deal to your ancestors.” His voice softened as he went on. “I wish I knew more about you, son. I've been waiting for information, but with an ocean and a continent between us ... no matter. You are in the drawing room, and behind you is a desk. Within it and behind it is a vast store of knowledge about your family. I hope you will take it upon yourself to know us. There are portraits of every Earl lining the gallery upstairs. There are documents and albums and everything you might wish to know. I am sorry I could not prepare things more thoroughly."

  He was interrupted by a coughing fit. The nurse wiped his mouth and the tissue came away covered in blood. Ryan's eyes widened. “Whoa. Poor guy,” he said softly.

  When the old man had collected himself, he pressed doggedly on. “Please, young man ... do not turn out to be a drunken, reckless ninny and piss away all our fortune. Think before you do things. Your life is no longer simply your life. You must build a reputation among people who do not know you. Consider what you wish that reputation to be."

  He started coughing again, and gasping for breath. For long moments the tape was simply the nurse attending to him, wiping his brow, adjusting buttons on the machines beside him. She covered his mouth and nose with an oxygen mask for a few moments and he seemed to calm down. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled by the plastic mask.

  "If I can help you, if there is a way ... I will find it. Good luck, son. I know you will make us all proud."

  And then the tape went black. Ryan just stood there watching for a moment. “Wow. Freaky,” he said finally. He turned to look at James. “The last Earl, I take it?"

  James nodded, eyes wide, and said, “At least he had time to prepare this."

  Ryan shivered. “It's kinda spooky. Getting a video letter from a dead man.” He glanced back at the desk at the far end of the room. Behind it were bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. “Wow. Homework,” he said with a soft sigh. “Well, it's too late now. I guess I should go find the bedrooms and get my suitcase out of your trunk.” He was suddenly sad at the idea of James leaving. “Unless we could go looking for the kitchens and try to make you a decent cup of coffee and see what else you can get on this huge television."

  James brightened. “I never say no to coffee,” he replied. “If you're sure you're not too tired."

  "I've kind of gone through tired and come out the other side, you know? I think I should stay up for a while so I don't end up waking up at like four AM or something weird like that.” He put the remote control back on the table and stood up. “So, where do you think the kitchen is likely to be?” He walked over to the bookshelf. “Do you think any of these has a floor plan in them?” He reached up to a high shelf and the action spontaneously made him want to stretch. His fingers curled over the edge of a shelf and he stretched, wringing the sleepiness out of muscles that had been mostly inactive for the better part of a day.

  "Um ... maybe in the desk drawers? But I'm sure we can find it.” James’ voice was just a little distracted.

  Ryan relaxed and shivered, sighing. “Oh,” he said, turning towards the desk. “Okay.” He opened the pencil drawer, but there was nothing, nor in the side drawers on either side. The desk top was the size of a twin mattress, but there was nothing on it but a blotter and a lamp. “Hm, well I guess we'll just have to brave the corridors. Should we leave a trail of bread crumbs?” he asked with a grin. He moved out from around the desk and went to the door, heading back into
the foyer.

  James followed Ryan, rubbing his arms. “Maybe the thermostat is in the kitchen as well,” he said. “I'm cold, but I'm sure this place has central heating."

  Ryan was cold, too, but he was getting used to it. He wandered through another set of doors to one side of the front door, and turned on the light. Clearly it was a dining room, judging by the enormous table and dozens of chairs marching down the length of it. One wall was a series of windows curtained in thick blue velvet. The opposite wall was lined with mirrors set high on the wall, and buffet tables flanking another huge fireplace. “Okay, well, hopefully the kitchen is in the vicinity of the dining room, huh? That'd make sense."

  At the opposite end of the room were glass cabinets displaying elaborate China plates, and a door. Ryan smiled at James over his shoulder. “I think we might be getting close.” He headed for the door and pulled it open.

  Lo and behold, behind the door was the kitchen. The room was huge, and though the walls were still rough brick and the floors were what looked like the original slate tiles, the rest of the kitchen was crammed with modern appliances.

  "Wow. I guess he must've had a lot of parties, huh?” The place was enormous, but then it was probably proportionate to the size of the dining room. You could cook a meal for a few hundred people in the kitchen. He started opening cabinets to see what was there. He found coffee and sugar and mugs. In a drawer he found silverware. He opened the giant Subzero fridge and, while it wasn't packed full, it did have butter, milk, and bottled water. “Looks like some real coffee is within our grasp,” he said, grinning at James. “But, um, I don't know how to use this coffee pot.” He pointed at the black and chrome monstrosity on the counter.

  James moved closer and inspected it. “There isn't a coffee maker that I can't figure out,” he assured Ryan, and after a few moments he had it sorted out. He filled the water reservoir and added the coffee beans. “It grinds the beans for you as well,” he said, turning it on. The machine emitted a muted whirr and he turned to face Ryan. “It should be done in just a couple of minutes. Are you hungry? I could fix you something. It looks like there's some stuff in the freezer."

  Ryan smiled. It was sweet of James to offer. “No. I'm not hungry. Just something warm to drink would be rad. Thanks. But if you want anything, please help yourself.” He watched as James filled two mugs with steaming hot, fresh coffee. “You know, I'm really, really glad I met you,” he said quietly.

  James smiled over his shoulder, then brought the two mugs over to where Ryan stood. “So am I. I would have been sitting at home by now, absolutely bored, trying to find something to watch on TV. Or surfing the Web aimlessly.” He returned to the cabinet for some sugar.

  Ryan wondered if he should invite James to stay, or if it would look like he was hitting on him. Despite his apparent culinary expertise, Ryan thought James was probably straight. He hadn't really commented when Ryan had so ham-handedly outed himself, so he was probably just being polite. “Um, well if you want to help me explore in the light of day, you could stay over. I mean, I'm sure there's plenty of beds,” he added hastily.

  "Well...” James seemed to consider. “I'm off tomorrow. Sure, why not?” he said finally. “I wouldn't want to leave you alone here with the ghosts, after all."

  Ryan grinned, and when their coffee was prepared to their liking, they found their way back to the drawing room. Ryan put some logs in the fireplace and took a few minutes to start up a fire. By the time he was settled on the couch and playing with the remote control again, the room was already warming up. He smiled at James. “So you never did tell me the boring tale of how you ended up here,” he prompted.

  James looked sideways at Ryan. “I warned you! Well, I didn't really plan it this way, but I did a year of studying abroad at the University a couple of towns over. I was going to Berkeley at the time.” He looked into the fire for a moment. “I wasn't really happy there, at Berkeley. I didn't know what I wanted to do. The study abroad seemed like a diversion, you know?” He sipped his coffee. “My dad was my only family back there. He was killed in a plane crash.” He looked down. “After the funeral, I decided to finish out the year here, and came back.” He shrugged. “And then I never left. I had nothing to go back to. I got a little money from selling the house in Oakland, and with working at the pub, I decided to pursue the one thing I really wanted to do. Writing."

  Ryan was quiet, taking in the information. He felt a desire to comfort James, make him happy somehow, but there was nothing he could really do. “That must have been awful,” he said softly. “My dad died when I was three, but I don't really remember him. It must have been hard to finish school after that. How long have you been here?” he asked. The quiet chatter of the television in the background and the blazing fire made the room seem far cozier and intimate than it had before.

  "Three years this fall,” James answered. “This place grows on you. The people are just nice, you know? Deep down. They care about each other.” He laughed. “I'm still the new boy, though. The American. I always will be.” He turned to look at Ryan. “Are you thinking of staying a while?” he asked. “Or are you going to sell the place?"

  "Well I don't know yet. I mean...” He nibbled on his lip. “It's not just the house. It's the whole title thing, too, you know? I feel a little obligated to at least spend some time here and figure it out. Like the guy on the tape said, it might not mean anything to me, but it means a lot to my ancestors. Sure, they're all dead, but I owe them at least a while to think it over. I thought I'd start with a year, and see what I think after that. Not that I have any idea what I'm gonna do here, but it is kinda really cool, isn't it? I mean, can you even imagine finding out that you own a castle out of nowhere? It's like winning the lottery or something.” Ryan wasn't accustomed to holding anything back, and he didn't do so now.

  James nodded. “So, what do you do in Hollywood?"

  Ryan chuckled a little. “Um, not much. I did a little acting and I was in a band, but mostly I waited tables. Oh, and made everyone on the dance floors of all the coolest clubs feel horribly inferior.” He gave James a wink. “I guess you could say I was waiting for my big break. I probably should have stuck to either music or acting,” he shrugged. “I don't know. I guess I wasn't quite ready to settle down to one thing yet. But now I think I might be."

  "So this will be kind of a vacation for you, then?” James smiled. “I'm afraid there are no cool dance clubs here, or any clubs at all. I hope you're not terribly bored."

  "Well, it's been exciting so far. I think it'll be different, but not boring. Although, I wish there was like Earl school or something. I'm hoping this solicitor guy will give me a clue or two. Do I have to meet the Queen? Appoint the local clergy? Heal the sick? What? I should have read more historical romance novels.” He sighed dramatically before grinning at James again. “No, I'll be fine. And if worse comes to worse I'll just fly a bunch of hot scene boys out here and have my own dance club in one of the bigger closets or something."

  James laughed, blushing a little. “I'm sure that would be the talk of the town for years to come,” he said. “In fact, I'm sure you will be anyway. They mean well, though, for the most part. They're just nosy.” He sipped at his coffee. “I bet all the hot boys miss you already."

  "Eh, the overwhelming majority of them are straight, anyway. More's the pity. I'm sure they've shed a tear or two for my departure and have moved on. I've been gone almost two days by now, after all.” He rolled his eyes a little. “I don't mind being the talk of the town. Especially if I have one really awesome friend already, I can brave the chilly Scots with a song in my heart.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I'm not usually this over the top, but I'm feeling punchy from jetlag. I hope you'll forgive me if I say anything bad."

  "Say anything you want,” James smiled over the rim of his cup. “Over the top is fun."

  "Oh, you don't want me to do that,” he laughed. “Who knows what'll come out of my mouth.” He finished off his coffee and put
the mug down. “Should we get my suitcase and explore the second floor?” he suggested.

  James nodded, setting his own mug down. “Too bad, though. It's nice and warm in here,” he said. He stood, stretching a little.

  "Well, we can start a fire upstairs. I'm sure there's more fireplaces up there, don't you think? It seems like that kinda place.” He unfolded himself gracefully from the couch and sauntered back out to the hall. “And I have a sweater in my case that I'm gonna really need, anyway."

  James followed Ryan, still looking around at the grandiose house. “My grandmother would have loved this place,” he mused. “I remember her telling me when I was little, that her side of the family had once had a castle. It's a ruin now, though, if it ever existed."

  Ryan opened the door and pulled his fuzzy jacket on again, pulling it tightly around him. “All of the family that I knew are from Italy and came to the U.S. with nothing but the clothes on their back so,” He shrugged. “This is all really weird for me."

  James looked over at Ryan's profile as they walked. “Yes, I can see the Italian,” he mused.

  Ryan headed out to the car. He turned and smiled at James, waiting for him to produce the key. “Is it in the ‘boot'?” he asked with a grin. “I need to learn this new language."

  James opened the back of the car. “It's more of a hatch, really,” he said. “But you'd be right. The trunk is called the boot.” He pulled out the suitcase. “God, what do you have in here, rocks?"

  Ryan laughed and took the case from him. His breath hitched a little as their hands brushed against each other. “Pussy. It's light.” He pulled up the handle and rolled it into the house. “The heavy stuff is being shipped."

  James followed. “The heavy stuff? How much stuff have you got?” He closed and locked the door behind them. “All your electrical stuff won't work here, you know. Not without converters."

  "Oh well, I have all that stuff with me. I have a converter for some stuff. I bought a hair dryer at the airport, cause, you know, can't do without that. The heavy stuff...” He started hoisting the case up the stairs one at a time. “Is like books, more makeup, CDs, more books ... you get the idea.” He reached the top of the stairs with a grunt, and stopped to take a deep breath. “There, that wasn't so heavy."