“How are you enjoying island life, Ros?” Marie asked as we sat at her kitchen island drinking tea while I watched her knead dough for dinner rolls.

“I really like it here so far. I’ve just begun to explore and I haven’t met many people, but the ones I have are all so welcoming and kind.”

“That’s good to hear. If you’re interested, we hold a book club here at the inn once a month. There’s a pretty good mix of ages, and we aren’t too serious about the actual reading. We mostly use it as an excuse to get together and drink wine.”

“Oh, I’d love that! I used to do one with my friends back home, and I miss it. What kind of books do you guys read?” I settled onto one of the stools at the island.

“Oh, a little bit of everything.” She continued to knead at the dough, pushing and pulling in a hypnotic rhythm. I shook my head to break the trance I found myself in, and decided to ask her what had been on my mind.

“Marie, I remember you saying you knew a lot about the history here. I would love to know more if you have the time.”

“Of course, I have the time, let me just get these into the oven,” she said as she finished with the dough and slid the pans into the oven. She wiped her hands off on her apron as she closed the door with her hip. “Okay, so I wouldn’t say that I’m an expert or anything, but I’ve spent most of my life here. So where did you want me to begin? Or did you have something specific you wanted to know about?”

Yes, yes, I do have something specific I want to know about.

“How about the beginning? Some general history with anything interesting thrown into the mix? I’d love to know whatever you know.”

Marie’s face radiated with her excitement to share one of her passions as she sat down with a fresh mug of tea. “Orcas Island is the largest of the San Juan Islands. While there were obviously natives living here long before any Europeans made it over, settlement on the island began in the mid to late 1800s,” she began.

Before I knew it, an hour had passed while she told me the basic history of the island along with some fun and interesting stories thrown into the mix. My time with her today was coming to a close, and there was no better time to throw out the questions heavy on my mind.

“I’m kind of curious, and I know this might be a silly question, but are there any good ghost stories?” I chewed on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I usually managed to contain.

“There are most definitely ghost stories. I don’t know all of them, but there are a few well-known ones.”

“Which places?”

“The Orcas Hotel is well known to be haunted by the former innkeeper.” She paused for a moment to take the rolls out and slide some pies into the oven. “Rosario Resort has some colorful stories. The wife of one of the former owners is said to be kicking around the place. She was known to be quite the party girl and people claim they can hear her heels clicking down the halls, or that they see her in her red nightgown atop her beloved Harley. Some even said they’ve heard a bed squeaking and moaning come from an unoccupied room.”

“What have you experienced living here?” I asked, hoping she had some great firsthand tales to share.

“I haven’t experienced anything out of the ordinary, but there’s just too many stories floating around for me to think there isn’t some truth to them. Have you seen anything interesting since arriving here?”

I knew I wasn’t going to get a better opening, and she seemed to be open-minded, so I just hoped I didn’t sound completely foolish.

“I’m going to preface this by saying I don’t believe in ghosts. I love ghost stories, but I’ve always considered them complete fiction. Lately, I’ve been experiencing weird things in my house.”

“What kind of things?” Marie stopped wiping down the countertop and looked at me curiously. The beginning prickles of heat started at my neck and rose to my cheeks, my body making my embarrassment obvious.

“It started with feeling like I was being watched, accompanied by a masculine scent. Then it was feeling like I was being touched when I was completely alone. Most recently things are moving and showing up in places they have no business being.”

“As a non-believer, what do you think is going on?”

“I’ve tried coming up with rational, logical explanations for all of this, but I’m at a loss. My best friend joked about it being a ghost, and while I brushed her off initially, I can’t get the idea out of my head now,” I finished, laughing self-consciously, feeling foolish and vulnerable at my honesty.

“You live on the land the Breckenridge family owned ages ago. I haven’t heard of anything happening there as far as weird occurrences or hauntings go, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. The family’s story is a sad one, too.”

“What happened?” I asked, intrigued by the potential answers Marie held.

“I don’t know a lot. The Breckenridge family was this very wealthy family who lived mostly on the mainland, based in San Francisco and Seattle. If I remember correctly, they dabbled in quite a few different businesses. The youngest son in the family was quite a prodigy, from what people say. He was also quite handsome and sought after. It sounds so silly and antiquated now, doesn’t it?”

“I’d agree, though if that were true, shows like The Bachelor and matchmakers for zillionaires wouldn’t be so popular, would they?” I joked back.

“Good point. Anyway, the son had bought the land where you live now with the intention of building a home for his fiancée. I’m not sure why he chose Orcas Island, especially since it wasn’t a widely inhabited place at that time.” Marie shrugged as though that were answer enough.

“Did he ever build the house?”

“No, he died in a steamer crash on his way from San Francisco to Seattle. And his beloved fiancée? She married just a few months after his death.”

“That’s so sad. How old was he?”

“I don’t remember, somewhere in his late twenties, I think.”

“When did he die?” I asked, enraptured by his story.

“In the early 1900s.”

“Oh, wow. So, whatever happened to the land? Did the family ever build on it or did it just sit vacant?”

“They never did build on it. It was eventually sold, and a home was built on the lot. That home fell into disrepair and was torn down about a decade before the house you’re now living in was built.”

“This is all so interesting. It doesn’t sound like I’m being haunted, based on what you just told me.” My stomach tumbled in a weird way, making me slightly nauseated. I couldn’t tell if it was from relief or disappointment.

“I wouldn’t immediately say it is haunted, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility either. I guess that could be said for every chunk of land here, though,” she finished, laughing to herself.

Marie had given me so much to think about and consider. I wanted to know more about this family, more about this man who’d died so tragically. I looked down at my phone and saw I had missed a call from Dan before realizing I had spent well over half my day with Marie.

“I just noticed the time! I’m so sorry to have taken up so much of your day.”

“It’s all right. It was nice having someone here to spend the day with and talk to. Steven is in and out of here so much, and we don’t really get the chance for any quality time until late into the evening. Sometimes the guests will sit and talk, but they usually are out exploring or don’t want to bother me. I’ve really enjoyed having you here, and it helped my work go by much faster.”

“I should be going. It looks like I missed a call from my husband, and a middle-of-the-day call from him is probably important,” I said, as I hopped off the stool and went over to Marie to give her a quick hug.

She wrapped me in her arms, giving me what might be one of the best hugs I’d had in a while, squeezing me extra tight at the end. I could smell sugar and lavender on her skin, and it was all so comforting.

“Please come by anytime, sweetie. I mean that.”

She walked me to the door, we said our goodbyes again, and I drove off with a quick wave, thoughts of the Breckenridge family on my mind, and trying not to worry what Dan’s phone call was about.