“Mr. Willowtree has been, well, I guess you could call him our family ghost,” she began, settling back into the couch. “The stories go back generations, long before our family came to the States.”
I’m absolutely bursting with questions, but one look from Mrs. Crumpet, er, my aunt, and I quell the urge to interrupt.
“I’ll just tell you my story for now, as it would take hours to go through the old family records.”
She takes a sip of the tea that has been cooling on the coffee table between us, clears her throat and begins.
“It goes back to my dear, sweet Arnold shipping off to war. As I said, he gave me Admiral Rumples to keep me company while he was away. The Admiral and I fell in mutual love from minute one,” she explains, gazing over at the snoozing Admiral with fond adoration. “He became my constant companion, even riding in my handbag when I would go out to run errands or pay a visit. He was such a comfort to me, even when the worry about Arnold became almost unbearable. That’s why I was so frightened when the Admiral got out one evening and was hit by a car.”
She stopped to sniffle into an embroidered handkerchief and wipe her teary eyes.
“I was desperate, you see,” she began, crumpling the handkerchief between her shaking hands. “I knew the stories about Mr. Willowtree, I had been hearing them all my life! Always the same warning; don’t call on him, no matter what! Don’t let him in! But nothing could get through my grief. If the Admiral died I would be completely alone. So I did what I had been warned against my entire life. I called Felix P. Willowtree.”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring over my head with tears swimming in her eyes.
“I called Felix P. Willowtree,” she whispered, “and everything changed.”
At the Corner of Main & Merrin 