Short Story: The First Call

by Stefanie Spangler

“There’s a call for you, dear,” Karen called over the partition that separated Ivy’s desk from the reception area. “Line One.”

Who would be calling me directly? Ivy looked down at the phone, trying to remember whether to pick up the receiver or push the blinking button first.

“Receiver first, then button.” Karen’s sing-song voice held the hint of her patient smile though Ivy couldn’t see her.

“Thanks, Karen,” Ivy said then punched Line One. “Hello?”

A woman—a rather snippy woman—answered, “Ivy Grant?”

“Ye—” Ivy started to answer.

“Wonderful! I’ve heard you know a thing or two about ghosts, and I need you to come look at my house.”

“Wha… a ghost?” Ivy pulled the phone away from her ear and looked down at it, slightly confused.

Karen peeked around the partition. “A ghost?” she mouthed, wheeling her office chair around the corner, so she could listen in.

She waved Ivy back to the phone. “Well, find out what she wants,” she whispered.

Ivy put the phone back up to her ear. “Oh… okay. Can I start with your name and address?”

Karen grabbed a pen and slid a notepad across the desk. “Mrs. Donovan, right?” she whispered.

The woman on the phone seemed surprised Ivy didn’t know her by voice. “Well, it’s Margaret Donovan. I’m the blue house on Rosewood Lane—you know the one.”

Ivy didn’t, but she suspected Karen did. “Okay, Mrs. Donovan, I can have Mark schedule something with you as soon as he gets back to the office.”

“Oh, no. I need you, dear. I called specifically for you.”

Karen’s ear was practically next to Ivy’s as she tried to listen in. Scrunching up her nose, she nodded and mouthed, “Go ahead.”

“Okay… is there a time that’s good for you?” Ivy stared blankly at the blank calendar in front of her. She wasn’t actually a licensed real estate agent yet, so she’d really just been doing filing and studying things Mark had finished himself. So she didn’t exactly have many pressing events on her schedule—really, she had none.

“Well, what are you doing right now?” There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the phone, and Ivy imagined Mrs. Donovan looking at her watch, a huffy look on her face.

The clock on the wall said it was almost ten o’clock. “Oh, okay… yeah. Just give me about twenty minutes?”

“Okay. See you then!” Mrs. Donovan’s voice turned suddenly chipper. Then she hung up.

When Ivy turned to Karen, the other woman was grinning, her fingers steepled in front of her nose, a bright look of mischief in her eyes.

“So it’s true!” She flopped back into her rolling chair, sending it skittering across the floor just a little. “I’d heard she fired Tammy Tabor, and Tammy told people that the house was haunted… haunted.” Karen shrugged. “I just didn’t know that Margaret believed there was a ghost.”

“Why would she want me to come because of a ghost, though?”

Ivy already knew the answer, but she didn’t know if Karen did.

The corners of Karen’s grin drooped, and her gaze drifted away. “Oh, dear… after all those things that happened with Sam and that Logan guy. Well, people said that Charlie was into lots of… occult stuff, I think I would call it, after all the things they found in Libby Walsh’s house.” She looked back at Ivy. “I forget about that stuff, especially since I see you almost every day. I suppose, of all of us around here, you just came closer to it than anyone else.”

Ivy couldn’t quite tell if Karen was holding back or not. None of the Grants had told anyone about Sam, but she’d been wrong about how well they were keeping secrets before.

Karen’s perky demeanor reappeared, faltered a little, then stuck. She wheeled herself back up to the desk and reached for the paper, which Ivy hadn’t used. “Plus, Margaret Donovan always gets what she wants—and she wants you. Lucky girl today.” She winked at Ivy. Then rolling her eyes, she pointed to her ear. “My eavesdropping skills are pretty good, and I don’t think she gave you an address.” She drew a little makeshift map.

Watching as Karen circled one of the blocks she scribbled down to represent houses on Rosewood, Ivy asked, “But shouldn’t I really wait for Mark? I’m not anywhere near licensed.”

“Oh, that’s all right. You can just go talk to her, take a few pictures. I’ve done that sort of thing before, and you’re his assistant. That’s good enough to go talk to someone. Just get her details… and the scoop on that ghost.” She laughed. “Oh, and take my camera!”

While Karen shuffled through her desk drawer, Ivy stood, staring at the map in her hand for a second, wondering what she would do if there actually was a ghost. How do I get myself into these things?

She tucked the map in her back, then did the same with the digital camera case Karen presented her. Karen gave Ivy’s elbow a little nudge. “You’d better get going. Margaret might have said twenty minutes, but she’s going to complain if it’s more than ten.”

She grinned, no doubt amused by the look of trepidation Ivy knew was painted all over her face. “I’ll call Mark. He’ll be there to relieve you as soon as he can.” At the door, Karen gave her another little nudge. “You’ll do fine, dear. Really.”

An equally scary thought occurred to her. “What if I ruin this deal for Mark?”

“Don’t worry about that, either.” With a wink, she added, “He likes you more than he does a deal.”