they were actually solid glass spheres. All around, they hung from trees or rested against potted geraniums and ferns.
âCome in, Gilda!â Mary Louise opened the door, and Gilda entered a comfortable, eclectic interior filled with the aroma of homemade cookiesâa welcome contrast to the musty, spicy smell of old wood and datil peppers that pervaded Eugeneâs home.
âI was just searching for our umbrellas,â said Mary Louise, taking Gildaâs umbrella and poncho, âalthough the rain will most likely stop by the time we leave.â
âIn Florida, just wait ten minutes and the weather will change!â Gilda joked. It was a comment she had heard Eugene make several times already.
âYouâve got that right, honey.â
Gilda followed Mary Louise into the living room. âThose glass spheres you have in your yard are interesting.â She hoped that Mary Louise would explain their significance.
âI started collecting those years ago when I was much younger,â Mary Louise said as she sat down on the living-room couch and poured tall glasses of iced tea from a pitcher. âAt one point I was thinking of turning part of our house into a bed-and-breakfast, and I thought they would add a nice touch for the guests. Itâs funny,â she reflected, âeven after I lost interest in those crystal balls, people just kept giving them to me for some reason!â
âYou were hoping to see ghosts in them, right, Mama?â said a voice from the staircase.
Gilda looked up to see Darla, who had suddenly appeared in the living room. She froze, hoping Darla would say more about seeing ghosts.
âWell, yes,â said Mary Louise. âSomeone did tell me that I might see a ghost or two in the crystal balls.â Mary Louiseâs response surprised Gilda; she had expected Darlaâs mother to say something far more dismissive or critical about the idea of seeing ghosts anywhere. Something like, âDonât be silly!â or, âSounds like somebodyâs imagination is ready for Halloween!â Maybe the moms in St. Augustine are different from the moms in Michigan, Gilda thought.
âBut we didnât see any ghosts in them,â Mary Louise added. âDid we, Darla?â
âNo,â said Darla. âWe didnât.â
Gilda sensed something simmering beneath the surface of this exchange between mother and daughterâsome emotionally volatile storyâbut she couldnât imagine what it might be. She longed to blurt out a series of prying questions about ghosts in St. Augustine and Eugeneâs background, but she knew she had to be careful. Gilda stirred her sweet tea very quickly with her spoon. Remember, she told herself, youâre in the South. Mind your manners, and people will trust you more.
âWant some sweet tea and cookies, Darla?â said Mary Louise.
âSure.â Darla walked across the living room and flopped onto a love seat across from Gilda.
âSit up, darlinâ,â said Mary Louise.
âSpeaking of ghosts,â said Gilda, who felt too impatient to avoid the topic completely, âwe actually just had a little unexplained encounter over at EugâI mean, Mr. Pookâs house this afternoon.â
âOh, did you now?â Mary Louiseâs eyes flashed brightly. âTell us about it.â
Gilda explained how she had heard the voice calling for help from somewhere in the house. She decided to leave out the part about her mother seeming to go into a trance, though; she found the experience troubling in a way that was just too hard to explain.
âOh, I donât doubt that it was a ghost,â said Mary Louise. âSo much life and death went on in each one of these old houses. Some of them might have been used as makeshift hospitals during the Civil War.â
This was interesting. Had she heard the voice of someone who had lived during the Civil War? Maybe the