BEACH TALE: A TRUE GHOST STORY

<<note...this story was previously posted on this blog on Halloween, 2011, but it is one of my favorites so I'm dusting it off for a repost today!  For those of you who haven't read it yet, this is a TRUE ghost story from where we used to live, Newport, RI.>>

       

THE TIME…1673

THE PLACE…
A 100 acre farm in Portsmouth, RI (currently the site of The Valley Inn, pictured on the left.)

THE SITUATION…

Thomas Cornell, a farmer aged 46, had a lot of hungry mouths to feed.  He was the father of four sons from his first marriage, two children (with a third on the way) from his second marriage to Sarah, plus his widowed mother Rebecca, age 73.  All nine people lived under one very tiny roof.  And, while Thomas did all the work, Rebecca owned the farm and thus controlled things. 

THE PROBLEM…

There were rumors that not all was well on the Cornell farm.  Reports of elder abuse ran rampant through the small community.  Local legend has it that Rebecca had confided she felt sure she’d be “done away with” by year’s end. 

BEACH TALE: SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS--THE FABRIC OF MY CHILDHOOD

Way back when I was a young girl, my parent’s would park us in front of the TV on Saturday morning and toss us a box of Cap’n Crunch or Fruit Loops cereal (both great for leaving a “trail of crumbs” a lá Hansel and Gretel.)  Mom and Dad would then slink off to the kitchen where they could enjoy a morning of peace and quite with their coffee and paper.  I know your first thought is quite possibly, “Why didn’t anyone call Child Protective Services?” But let me explain that 1) the cereal was fortified with 14 vitamins and minerals (I think) and 2) there were some teaching moments on Saturday Morning TV back in the day.  Like Aesop’s Fables.  I can almost hear the music now as a cartoon fairy flies onto the screen and opens a voluminous book of Fables, and I would watch with rapt attention as I learned my moral lesson.  You might remember the classics such as “The Tortoise and the Hare” or “The Ant and the Grasshopper” or “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” or “The Fox and the Grapes” (from whence we get the phrase “Sour Grapes.)  Classics, all. 

Beach Tale: The Hilarious Adventures of Dillon in Deagu

 

        Those of you of a certain vintage may remember the “I Love Lucy” episodes where Cousin Ernest (played by Tennessee Ernie Ford) comes for a visit.  So Country Bumpkin in the Big City makes for big laughs.  You can watch the entire episode here:  http://www.tv.com/shows/i-love-lucy/tennessee-ernie-visits-17131/

          It’s just as funny (in hindsight anyway) when a rather-sheltered young man heads off to see the world.  My son, like Lucy, is a red-head, which sometimes seems to equate for a magnet for troublesome situations.  You can’t help but laugh.  So I'm thinking I'll put my writing skills to work and develop a sitcom of my own.  I'll call it "The Hilarious Adventures of Dillon in Deagu".  All based on actual escapades of my son.  Like I say, I can laugh…now…

  

  Series Premier Episode:
          A two-suitcase limit is difficult for the most frugal of international travelers.  But packing for an entire year (possibly more) is not for the feint of heart.  My son Dillon (name changed to protect the innocent) faced that challenge in 2012. 

          Enter our main character, a young lad who thinks it necessary to include a year’s supply of soaps, shampoos, toothpastes and other essentials for his journey. That doesn't leave much room room left for clothes (starting with 45 of his favorite t-shirts) and posters and electronic devices, etc.   He shoves everything into two of the biggest rolling duffle bags (one bright red, one brilliant blue) that Lands End sells. I mean seriously, they are big enough to hide a dead body! (In fact, that gives me an idea!  Look for a body in a duffle in one of my upcoming mysteries!) 

Beach Tale: Home Sweet Home

 In the spirit of Earth Day 2013, it seems a fitting time to "recycle" one of my stories.  And in light of the fact I'm now a card-carrying member of the real estate-agent brigade, this story spoke to me on a different level.  It was originally posted on July 11, 2011 when this blog was in its infancy, so should be a "fresh" read for many of you.  Enjoy!    

         I’d read Jameson Lee Clemmons’ purchaser profile with interest and painted a mental image of a gracefully aging southern gentleman who resembled Colonel Sanders. No marital status was required when purchasing a house with cash, but if he showed up for our two o’clock appointment with no spouse in tow, I’d fix him up with my Aunt Meg up for dinner tomorrow night.  Maybe someday she’d return the favor.

          I hit the PRINT button on my computer and the laser jet wheezed to life at the same time the bell over the front door jangled. “Just a minute,” I called. Grabbing the stack of printouts of suitable properties, I headed for the reception area. “Can I help...” My words were replaced by the sound of a girlish giggle that bubbled forth. From me! But what red-blooded woman of child-bearing years wouldn’t have a similar reaction upon coming face to face with this sun-bronzed surfer type? Aged mid- to late-thirties, if I were to hazard a guess.  The perfect age for me!

          “I have an appointment with Tara Quinlan.”

          Even his voice had a sun-drenched tinge. “Jameson Lee Clemmons?” I squeaked.

          “Just J.C. please.”

         

Beach Tale: Mystery by the Sea

Are you an aspiring Nancy Drew?  Have you always wanted  to assemble clues and figure out whodunit?  Here is your chance.  This short story has all of the clues, you just need to puzzle them together to find out who the guilty party is.  The solution is at the end.  Happy Sleuthing!

“Mystery By the Sea"

A Sleuth-It Yourself Mystery”

          Thank goodness for the ocean breeze, I thought as I finished my walk and crossed the sand towards home.  The thermometer had topped out at 102 degrees a few hours ago.  The trek along the shore with waves bubbling at my ankles and bay breezes blowing over my skin had cooled me off and re-energized my mind and body. I felt ready to get back to work.  As I headed for the stairs that led up to my carriage house apartment, the elderly woman who lived in the main house came running to meet me.

          “Cassie, I need your help,” Mrs. Williamson said, wringing her hands in that nervous way she had.

          “What’s wrong?”

          “My ruby and sapphire necklace, the one given to my great-great-grandmother by a crowned prince in Europe, has been stolen.  And the thief is in my house right now!”

Beach Tale: Carriage House Reveal!

A dear friend who currently lives in America’s heartland (waving atcha Linda H!) gently reminded me that I had NEVER posted the finished pictures of our carriage house construction project! 

For those of you new to this blog, last summer my husband and I donned our General Contractor hats and oversaw the completion of a 484-square-foot carriage house over our 2-car detached garage.  It was a learning lesson on ooohhhhh, so many levels, but we completed it in time for the Holiday Season.  So far we have been honored to have guests stay there and enjoy the beach lifestyle.  Upon our son's return home from his southeast Asia walkabout, he'll hunker down for a bit.  Then the big plan is to turn it over to renters to generate a little income to pad our retirement pay.  

But the important thing is, it is DONE and turned out very nice, if I do say so myself.  So upon the urging of my aforementioned friend I snapped a few pictures while it is still in its relative newness (bound to change after son takes up residence...) and am posting them for those of you curious as to how the project turned out.

So, this is where we started, with steps....

leading up to this....

And now, after a huge investment of time, energy, sweat, and money, (<<Drumroll please.....>>we have this:

Beach Tale: The Sniper Sisters

It's rerun season here at the Life's a Beach Blog as my life priorities continue to weigh on the Real Estate Side.  But Friday returns with fresh content and a great beach chat and I'll be back in my writing chair from then on. But today it's a rerun.  Not just any rerun, mind you, but the very first "mystery" I ever wrote!  It has a special place in my heart and I wanted to share it with all of my new followers who have joined the rolls since the story was last published in October, 2011.  And those of you who have already read it might enjoy it again! So here's a little story I like to call...

The Sniper Sisters

 

      “It’s my turn to pull the trigger.”  Evie straddled the large fallen tree blocking the trail.  With a grunt, she hauled her left leg over and set both sensibly-clad feet on the ground, enjoying a moment’s rest as her older-by-three-minutes sister Dot struggled with the obstacle.

          “No, you knocked off Marty Knudsen last week, remember?”  Dot executed an awkward belly roll over the log, momentum carrying her until she landed in a pile of damp, decomposing leaves at Evie’s feet.

          “Of course I remember,” Evie snarled.  “Direct hit to his heart.  But you got the three before that.”  

          “Only because your shot on Alma Schaeffer went wide and took out Cuddles McGee instead.”           

          “It didn’t go wide.  I meant to shoot that damn cat.  It left two more goldfinches on my doorstep that morning.”

          Dot struggled to her feet in the wobbly, ungainly manner of a camel, then brushed the dirt off her knees.  “If I hadn’t acted quickly to take Alma out, she would have gotten us first.  You were taking too long to reload.  Not my fault you screwed up your turn.”

Beach Tale: YARD OF THE MONTH

          My first gardening catalog came addressed to “Robert S. Jones or Current Resident.” That was me--Current Resident.  We’d just made our fourth move in two years in conjunction with my husband’s Naval career.  His orders were for twenty-four months.  Long enough to plant perennials.      

          I thought a showed a great deal of restraint when I limited myself to a $500 order.  A rainbow of reds, blues and yellows.  A variety of curious textures.   My home would stand out from the others in this newly-constructed cookie-cutter neighborhood.  Okay, so I would eat nothing but macaroni and cheese for two months, but with the Yard of the Month awarded by my neighborhood association came a $50 gift certificate to the hardware store, so it would offset the scales a bit.  And based on the glossy pictures of what my gardens would look like, I was a sure winner.

Beach Tale: Navy SEALS

A True Story from the Military Spouse Trenches

          Laden with pictures of my husband’s latest naval assignment onboard an amphibious assault ship, I returned to my landlocked (and Navy-ignorant) hometown prepared to brag about our exciting Navy life.  One day at lunch with my parent’s friends, I proudly showed off the pictures of the ship and explained, in what I thought were layman’s terms, about the floodable well deck in the back which opened up and filled with water, enabling sea-going equipment to float in and out as needed.   

Beach Tale: The Twelve Days of a Beach Christmas

‘Tis the season, as they say for Christmas Carols, and parodies thereof.  Perhaps the most parodied song ever (seasonal or otherwise) is "The Twelve Days of Christmas".  Who amongst us hasn’t smiled when we heard the barking dogs version or the Redneck tune?  Today I offer up a slightly different version of my own making that represents beach life.  Feel free to sing along! 

On the first day of Christmas I saw along the shore:

A lighthouse with a shell wreath on its door.

On the second day of Christmas I saw long the shore:

Two fiddler crabs;

  And a lighthouse with a shell wreath on its door.

Beach Tale: Writing the Cozy Mystery

When I tell people “I write cozy mysteries”, about half of the people say, “Wow.  That’s cool.”  Pause while they think about that.  “What the hell is a cozy mystery?”  The other half say, “Wow. That’s cool.”  Then they pull out their i-phones and Google the term.  Well, some Google it.  Most just continue on through life never really knowing. 

So let’s take a moment to talk about everything you’ve always wanted to know about cozy mysteries, but were afraid to ask.  First stop, Merriam Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary.    

            

Mystery: a piece of fiction dealing usu. with the solution of a mysterious crime. 

Cozy:  Enjoying or affording warmth and ease.  Snug.

Beach Tale: Coming Down the Home Stretch!

          O.M.G.  I am so excited.  This project is almost done.  Then I get to put on my decorating hat and “cozy” it up.  Just a few more subcontractors in and voilá, we’re ready for guests. Or tenets.  Or a neighborhood cocktail party, at the very minimum. 

          So first thing we need is a Trim Guy.  I’m going to admit my naiveté because I didn’t even realize I’d need a Trim Guy but when the plumber showed up (he was the very first contractor at the very beginning of this project) he asked me if I needed a Trim Guy.  I said “Yes,” because obviously I did.  He gave me a name, and I’m really glad I made that call, because there was no way we were capable of doing trim work ourselves.  Where is that General Contracting for Dummies book, anyway?   

Beach Tale: "A Ghost Story"

<<note...this story was previously posted on this blog on Halloween, 2011, but it is one of my favorites so I'm dusting it off for a repost today!  For those of you who haven't read it yet, this is a TRUE ghost story from where we used to live, Newport, RI.>>

       

The time…1673

The Place…a 100 acre farm in Portsmouth, RI (currently the site of The Valley Inn, pictured on the left.)

          The situation…Thomas Cornell, a farmer aged 46, had a lot of hungry mouths to feed.  He was the father of four sons from his first marriage, two children (with a third on the way) from his second marriage to Sarah, plus his widowed mother Rebecca, age 73.  All nine people lived under one very tiny roof.  And, while Thomas did all the work, Rebecca owned the farm and thus controlled things. 

Beach Tale: Let's Get Physical!!!

Sorry, I couldn't find a G-rated version of Olivia Newton John's "Let's Get Physical" video, so you're going to have to sing the song to yourself, as it is the audio background to today's post.  Okay, all together now, "Let's get physical, physical.  I wanna get physical..."

A reminder of where we left things two weeks ago:

The questions everyone has been asking is, "How did you come to have a truckload of boxes and what did we plan to do with them?" 
          I have procrastinated about writing this particular episode in our “little” construction project, because it brings back painful memories.  I don’t mean mental pain or emotional pain or spiritual pain.  I mean physical pain!  The type that the mere thought of lifting your little pinky brings tears to your eyes.   

          Oh wait, there I go again getting ahead of myself. 

Beach Tale: "Color Me Indecisive"

          Time to add some COLOR to the place!  So today’s installment is brought to you by Cindy Lauper’s “True Colors.”  Take a listen:

          The next phase of our “little project” involved tiling the bathroom, painting the interior and selecting a floor.  In that order.  And what do these three things have in common?  They all required decisions relating to color.  I had been avoiding making the biggest decision of all, but now the time was at hand. I needed to dream up a “color scheme” for the project. Something that would connect each of the four spaces with the other without overpowering the tenant. Something bold yet subtle.  Something timeless yet contemporary.  Something that screamed “beach house” yet whispered “my house.”   Rather a tall order for a neophyte decorator like myself.   

Beach Tale: "Moving Right Along..."

          The theme song for today’s construction update is brought to you by The Muppet Movie.  Click on the imbedded play button to watch the clip with Kermit the Frog and Fozzie Bear singing while driving a Studebaker across the United States:

       

          The part that is stuck in my head is “Moving right along, footloose and fancy free.  Getting there is half the fun, come share it with me.”

          “Fun” is the operative word there, and in my case means “fun--NOT.”  Not in the least.       

Beach Tale: We've Only Just Begun...

          <<For those of you new to this blog, I am sharing the trials and tribulations of our home improvement project to finish off the unfinished room over the garage ourselves—without benefit of any professional counseling.>>

          So while I’m out making all the important decisions about kitchen cabinet choice, crews of plumbers and electricians have gotten busy back at the carriage house.  After all, what good is a beautiful kitchen if it doesn’t have power or water? 

Beach Tale: Decisions, Decisions

           Who amongst us hasn’t romanticized building their perfect home?  The mere thought of having the final say on every last detail, from picking the perfect tile in every bathroom to coordinating the floor covering throughout the house to where each light switch and electrical outlet goes.  Finally, a house that makes sense!  I’ve often wished for just such an opportunity.

          Well, after just a few weeks of finishing off a 484 square foot carriage house, all I can say is, “Be careful what you wish for!”

Beach Tale: “Then I’ll Do It Myself,” said the Little Red Hen

          You remember the children’s story, The Little Red Hen?  The one where the little red hen asks for assistance but the other barnyard animals don’t want to help?  And what does the hen reply when they refuse?  Come on, I know you know it.  Let’s say it together on three.  One, two, three…

          “’Then I’ll do it myself,’ said the little red hen.” 

          We recently took that mantra to heart.

          With the purchase of our new beach cottage came a two-story detached garage.  The upstairs had the walls framed out and one lone light bulb hanging from the rafters.  The income potential is there, the separate-space-for-the-boomerang-child potential is there, the “man-cave” potential is totally there (plenty of room for leather sectional group, large screen TV,  a pool table or a foosball table, all with access to a full kitchen for cold beer and nacho/chicken wing preparation, and full bathroom in the event a shower is needed…I’m talking man-cave on steroids here!)…we just needed to turn it into habitable condition. 

Beach Tale: "The Butler Did It" a mini-mystery

          “It’s a classic case of the butler did it,” Jeffery said with conviction.

I suppressed a smile.  This was his first big case.  He had a stack of notes as tall as the Washington Monument that he kept thumbing through, checking facts, reports, statements, etc.  He was tackling this like it was a exercise developed for a first-level evidence class.  I hated to burst his bubble, but real life murder cases rarely come tied up in neat little packages. 

          I, on the other hand, was going on thirty years of street smarts.  I’d spent yesterday pouring over the evidence, trying to make some sort of crazy sense out of it all.  For lack of a better suspect, it did look like the butler had killed his employer, because he was the only other person on the grounds of the estate that evening.  But deep down something just didn’t feel right.  A puzzle piece was missing.