The Ghost Wore Gray Read Free Page A

of his nose.
    Dad got his hand free from Mr. Cleveland’s grasp and turned toward Chris and me.
    â€œThis is my daughter, Nine, and her friend, Chris Gurley.”
    â€œNine?” asked the innkeeper, giving me a funny look.
    â€œWell, it’s really Nina. But everyone calls me Nine, because of my last name.”
    He looked puzzled.
    â€œYou know, Nine Tan-leven?” I asked, hoping he would get it without any more explanation.
    He narrowed his eyes, and then his bushy white eyebrows popped up in surprise. “Oh, I see!” he cried in delight. “Very good. Very good, indeed! Well, I’ll call you Nine, and you can call me Baltimore. Or Balty, although I don’t particularly like that, since it sounds too much like Baldy.”
    â€œI’ll call you Baltimore,” I said, shaking his pudgy hand.
    When he had pumped Chris’s hand to his satisfaction, Baltimore led us out of the lobby into a wide hall that ended at the foot of a long staircase. I glanced at my father and saw him cringe as he took in the wallpaper. The only thing in the hall that looked good was a huge batch of fresh-cut flowers, sitting in a glass vase on a table set against one wall.
    Following Baltimore, we walked up the creaking stairway and then down another long hall decorated with a dozen or so framed pictures. To my surprise, about half of them were fairly good. A group of old photographs caught my attention. I made a mental note to take a closer look at them when I had a chance.
    â€œAnd here are your rooms,” Baltimore announced, stopping at a pair of doors that stood side by side. “This is for Poppa,” he said, swinging open one door. “And this is for the young ladies.”
    â€œSee you later, kids,” said Dad. He stepped into his room. I stepped into ours, hoping it wasn’t covered with the kind of wallpaper that would make me want to skip breakfast. Chris was right behind me. “Hey,” she said. “Not bad.”
    She was right. To my surprise, the room was almost pretty. It had two brass beds with white coverlets, a desk, a dresser, two battered but comfortable-looking armchairs, and lacy curtains that moved slowly in the breeze. The wallpaper was a simple design of pink and blue stripes.
    â€œDibs on this one,” said Chris, throwing her suitcase on the bed nearest the window. I thought about fighting her for it, then decided I should let her have it since she was my guest. I watched as she suddenly turned, realizing that maybe she should have waited for me to choose. “Unless you want it,” she said.
    I shook my head. “You’ll probably catch cold there, anyway,” I said.
    â€œYour closet is here,” said Baltimore, pointing to the only other door in the room. “Your bathroom is the third door on the right as you’re heading back to the stairs.”
    â€œWe don’t have one of our own?” I asked in shock.
    Baltimore shook his head. “This is a very old inn,” he said with a smile. “It was a big deal when they brought the plumbing indoors. That was back in—”
    He was interrupted by a screeching voice from the top of the stairs. “Baltimore! Baltimore Cleveland! I want to see you this moment!”
    â€œMy wife,” said Baltimore with a sigh. “I’d better find out what she wants. You girls have a pleasant afternoon. I’ll see you at dinner.”
    â€œBaltimore!” screeched the voice again.
    â€œComing, Gloria,” called the innkeeper. He bustled off down the hall, wiping his hands on his apron.
    Chris looked at me and we both burst out laughing. “Baltimore!” she cried, doing a perfect imitation of the screeching Gloria. “Baltimore Cleveland, you come here right now!”
    â€œShhh!” I hissed, closing the door and sagging against the wall. “She might hear you.”
    We giggled our way through unpacking, first dividing the dresser and the