There was no shortage of theories, both political and social, of what had happened to Ana and her family, but at least now he was pretty sure he could put to rest all of the stories of her survival and later life. If he was going to believe in a ghost, he might as well believe that she was Anastasia Romanova. Once the first big stretch was made, a second one seemed so easy. “Of course I could get home and discover that it was all a delusion brought on by last night’s alcohol and pain meds, which would really suck.”
A soft beep came from the clock on the wall and Jerry looked up to see that it was already six o’clock. The time had floated by, its passing unnoticed. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, shot back the last of the lukewarm herbal tea at the bottom of his new CKVB mug, winced at the bitterness, then stretched his neck left and right and in slow circles in both directions to get the kinks out. He logged off his computer, and while it was shutting down, he changed his voicemail message.
He was tired, but happy, and it took very little effort to put energy into his voice. “Feliz Navidad, you’ve reached Jerry Powell at CKVB, I’ll be back at the station at noon on the 26th. Please leave a message at whatever sound you hear after my voice, and I’ll get back to you when I return to the office. Ciao for now.” He pressed the buttons to save and set the message. “Good enough.”
He grabbed his duffel coat off the hook behind the door and turned off the lights, but before he could close the office door, the Account Manager, Lee-Anne, seemed to appear out of nowhere, dressed in a long, tight, red, curve-announcing cashmere sweater, and black yoga tights, her own jacket draped over her shoulder. She moved in close, in what Jerry now thought of as “full-flirt mode”.
“Jerry, how’s your headache, hon? I never did finish the neck rub I started last night. What do you say? In your office?”
“Lee-Anne, hon, my headache is long gone, but thanks for the offer.” Politely squeezing past her, Jerry shut his door and started down the hall, shouldering his way into his coat as he went. “Besides, I wouldn’t dream of letting one of my headaches keep you from getting home to Tom and the kids, especially on Christmas.”
Lee-Anne followed at his side, making it a tight fit in the hall. She brushed her long, impossibly silky hair back over her shoulder. “Oh, they’re at my Mom’s. I’m meeting them there for dinner, but I still have some time.” They reached the front reception desk and the uniformed security guard sitting at his evening post.
“Well, I appreciate you bringing in that Sales Summary, Lee-Anne, but it could have waited a few days.” He smiled at the guard. “Good night, Samhail. Thank you for watching over us. Have a good night, and I’ll see your relief around noon tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Powell. Merry Christmas, sir.”
“Merry Christmas, Samhail.” He was still having trouble remembering it was Christmas, especially without the obligatory dinner with his family. As stressful as it could be, he’d never missed Christmas with his family before.
Lee-Anne wasn’t finished. “Trust me, Jerry—some things can’t wait.” They left the building and stepped into the parking lot and a chill wind. She struggled with her coat and although Jerry knew the struggling was an act, he stepped behind her and helped by lifting up the jacket. Lee-Anne tried to lean back into his arms but Jerry was ready and side-stepped her move.
“You’re right, Lee-Anne, and there are two terrific little kids who can’t wait for their Mommy, so why don’t I walk you to your car so they don’t have to wait another minute?”
“You’re so sweet, Jerry. I must compliment Manny on his choice of a Station Manager.”
“Why, thank you, Mrs. Johansen. And I think he has good taste in Sales Reps.” In spite of her need to flirt with the new station manager, Jerry knew from her file that Lee-Anne was very good at what she did. He was sure she used her sex appeal to aid her in her work, but she also had a wall of local and national sales awards to prove she wasn’t all tits-and-giggles.
“And this Sales Rep tastes good, too.” Having reached her little red Lexus, she leaned over to kiss Jerry, but he smoothly and deftly slipped out of her reach.
“Merry Christmas, Lee-Anne. Drive safely.”
Visibly disappointed, Lee-Anne pressed the remote and unlocked the car with a beep. “Merry Christmas, Jerr-bear.”
She drove off, throwing him a very flirty finger-wave as she went. Jerry laughed, and started off for home, his stride strong and invigorated by the brisk sea air.
“Women—can’t live with ’em, pass the pretzels. Now I suppose I should get home and see how my house ghost is doing.” He hummed to himself, then started to sing, “All I want for Christmas is a normal life, a normal life.”
TEN MINUTES LATER he unlocked the door of the loft and stepped inside. The television was off but one warm light banished the shadows. There was no sign of Ana, though. He walked over to the Blake book on the coffee table, speaking as though she could hear him from her world to his.
“Ana, I’m home.”
Ana answered him, in an almost perfect Ricky Ricardo Cuban accent. “Jerry, you got some s’plainin’ to do!”
Jerry looked up at the source of the voice and nearly wet himself—solid-appearing Ana was casually floating around near the high ceiling above his head.
“Crap!”
Ana drifted down to the floor. “Good evening, Jerry. I’ve learned a few things today.”
“I can see that.” He dropped his keys back into his coat pocket and hung it up on the coat tree behind the door. “Was the first thing how to scare the living to death?”
“No. That I knew already. Something else. Observe!” She concentrated, and although Jerry couldn’t see any marked difference in her appearance, when she reached for his old university sweatshirt her hand didn’t pass through it but rather gripped it, just as his would have. She picked up the sweatshirt and slipped it over her head. Jerry couldn’t believe it when it stayed put and she spun around, modelling it for him.
“Wow. You have been busy.”
“At first I could only keep it on for a few moments before one arm or the other fell through, but now I can do it for an hour or more.”
“I’m impressed. How did you—” His cell phone rang in his coat pocket, cutting him off. He retrieved his phone quickly, afraid that Ana would try to answer it; but she only followed him to the couch, politely curious.
“Hello?… Mom. Hi. Merry Christmas… Well, I haven’t returned your call because I just walked through the door and haven’t had a chance to listen to my messages. I usually wait until I’ve got my coat off and maybe closed the front door before I retrieve them… Yes, I had to work… No, I haven’t opened my presents, yet.”
Ana made a face at Jerry, trying to distract him. When it didn’t work, she grabbed her ears and pulled them until her arms were straight out to the sides and her ears were stretched almost two-feet-long. Jerry laughed, losing the battle.
“Sorry, Mom. I have a guest who’s clowning around. Are you going to be up for a while so I can call you back?… Oh-kay. How about I open my presents this evening, and give you a call tomorrow morning?… Who’s my guest? Her name is Ana. She’s my, uh, ‘neighbour’… Well, we thought we’d have coffee and get acquainted… WHAT?! Goodnight, Mom. I’ll call you at noon, your time.” He disconnected the call and put the phone down on the coffee table.
“What did she say to upset you so?”
“Nothing I can repeat to a seventeen-year-old Grand Duchess.”