Chapter Text
There are no guests at present in Woodstone B&B, which is… fine. Well, really it isn't, but Sam doesn’t want to catch herself up, thinking too hard about that. The point is, there are no strangers in her house at the moment, yet when she walks down the stairs there is clearly someone lounging on the couch in the living room.
Why did she have to notice the intruder now? Before her morning caffeine fix? Her head pounds for coffee, but allowing a trespasser to wander around unchecked was likely bad for business, as well as her own (and her husband’s) wellbeing in general. Sigh, the troubles of being a homeowner.
Sam stops on the stair landing, rubbing at her eyes, hoping the person is just a figment of her imagination. She opens her eyes and glares. Nope, it's definitely some woman napping on the couch. And not one of the ghosts, either, as she would recognize her otherwise. Did someone really break-in last night? To nap? On a musty old couch?
She supposes there are stranger things in her life - such as the aforementioned ghosts. But still.
The woman is dressed up in some expensive-looking, and tight-fitting, black dress. Her feet, kicked up on the arm of the too-small couch, are clad in black heels with vibrant red soles. Louboutin, perhaps? Sam is like 90% sure robbers or murderers don’t wear formal attire to commit their crimes. Much less such expensive formal attire. Sam concludes that she must have wandered over from a party or something the Farnsby's were throwing. Did they throw parties?
Or maybe this was all a ruse? And this intruder is just waiting for Sam to let her guard down before jumping up and flinging a heel into her eye? No- better to not think about it and just act. Yes, always the best course of action. Luckily Jay isn’t here to judge her for it.
“Hey!” Sam says, hoping she sounds authoritative enough, and stomps over to the couch. After a thought, she crosses her arms over the woman and adopts a Hetty-worthy glare. The woman doesn’t even stir. Well. This is harder than it seemed. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sam demands, almost tempted to poke the woman awake- but that would be rude. Wait, why is she worried about being rude to someone who broke into her house?
Before she can think of shaking her awake, the woman lifts up the arm that was draped over her eyes. Her makeup is somehow immaculate, despite having slept in it, which is so not fair.
“I thought I was sleeping, but I guess not anymore,” She grumbles, pushing a hand through her hair and sitting up. Rather than standing, apologizing, and promptly leaving, the intruder glowers at her shoes and starts to take them off. What the hell!
“What are you doing? You need to leave!” Sam says, not knowing whether to laugh or scream. Seriously, is she the weird one here? Why is this lady being so chill?
“What? Why?” Miss Intruder asks, looking bewildered.
“Why? Why?! Because you can’t just go around, breaking into people's houses! That is pretty standard knowledge! I think,” Sam says, throwing up her hands. The woman opens her mouth as if she is about to protest, but then she just lets out an exasperated groan and yanks off her pumps.
“Fine! Whatever,” She says, standing with a little too much force. Sam walks angrily to the door, glancing back to make sure her unwelcome guest is following her. “I don’t know why you’re being so weird about it, but to each their own, I guess,” the woman mutters behind her, and Sam has to take a deep breath to avoid snapping at her again. Look, maybe she is being a bit harsh, but once again- this whole debacle is happening before her sweet, sweet morning coffee.
When Sam looks back ahead of her, she spots the ghosts making a crowd near the stairs, watching this whole thing take place with wide eyes. Trevor is checking out the intruder with a sleazy grin on his face, because of course he is, and Isaac and Hetty are whispering something to one another. Sass, of course, looks delighted to have some entertainment so soon in the morning.
“Sam? What is the meaning of this? Who is this floozy?” Hetty says, scrunching up her nose and directing her signature disapproving look at the intruder. She’ll have to fill them in later-
“Floozy?” The intruder asks, looking down at herself. “This is my most conservative dress!” Sam’s jaw drops.
“You can see them?” Sam asks, alongside a chorus of “You can see us?” and one “Conservative? I can see your bosom!” From Hetty, who had characteristically decided to focus on the woman’s apparent ‘looseness’ rather than the fact that she just spoke to the dead.
A moment passes, and it becomes clear that the woman didn’t know who to answer, Sam takes a step closer and asks again. “You can see them?” Pointing to the group, as if there was another ‘them’ she could be talking about.
The woman just blinks at Sam, then at the ghosts. “...Yes?” She says slowly as if talking to a toddler. “Why wouldn’t I be able to?”
Sam can just gape. What a strange morning. Also- why is this chick being so blasé about everything? First, the break-in, now, about seeing ghosts? Sam has never met another person who could see the dead, was it really that common?
“Sam?” Jay calls from above, appearing at the top step. “What’s going on down there? Who are you talking to?”
“This lady broke into our house! And she can see the ghosts!” Sam shouts back, unsure of which is more important at the moment. Probably the break-in. Jay’s eyes dance over the foyer but don’t land on her. Sam gestures to her, thinking he is having a hard time seeing her from so far away.
“Babe- I can’t see anybody,” He says, moving down the stairs slowly. Huh. Pieces suddenly click into place.
“Wait- are you dead?” Sam asks, turning back to the woman - who is watching Jay with a confused expression. Sam takes a closer look at her. There isn’t any obvious blood or wounds, like on Flower or Stephanie, but her dress is floor length so it may be hiding something. There is a slit on one side, but it looks like part of the design rather than a rip, and the leg it shows is free of any wounds. Maybe she has an injury to the other leg? Legs have arteries right? Or maybe she died of some heart condition or poisoning, like Alberta. There could also be some wound on her back, but Sam couldn’t see it from this angle and it seems rude to check at the moment.
“Obviously. Why can’t that guy see me? How did he die?” She is still watching Jay as the ghosts move out of the way to let him through.
“Jay isn’t dead!” Pete pipes up, “Neither is Sam! She’s a living person who can see and talk to us!” The woman gapes, and her attention flies back to Sam.
“And animals!” Flower adds.
“No- not animals. Flower, we’ve been through this.” Sam says, pinching the bridge of her nose. This particular morning, she thinks she deserves two cups of americano.
“You’re alive?” The woman asks, with the usual shock ghosts had when they realized Sam could see them.
“Very much so!” Sam says, wrapping an arm around Jay as if to prove the existence of her corporeal form.
“Holy shit. How can you see us?”
“I fell down the stairs, and technically died for 3 minutes,” Sam says, pointing at the guilty structure. Trevor cringes in the corner of her eye.
“Uh, Sam? What exactly is going on?” Jay asks, eyes still scanning the room as if he could catch a glimpse of someone.
“Oh, I’m not really sure. But there’s a ghost I don’t know and I thought she was alive and had broken into our house.” Sam says.
“New ghost? Did someone die on our property last night?” Jay asks, which- is a really good question actually.
“Very dangerous land, many people die here,” Thorfinn chuckles, “I die here first, many years ago, struck by lightning.”
“What? Oh, no, I died a few years ago. I just don’t have a boundary so I can go wherever,” The new ghost clarifies, shuffling her bare feet on the carpet.
“She says she died a while ago, but can travel anywhere,” Sam repeats to Jay.
“Ah, I see! So it’s like her ghost power,” Jay says, wiggling his fingers in the air as if he’s casting a spell.
“I guess,” The woman says, looking a little less bewildered but still staring at Sam and Jay like they had grown an extra head.
“Yeah,” Sam repeats.
“That is so cool. This is great for the Ghost lore! I’ve got to write this down.”
“Ghost lore? Never mind- I don’t want to know.” The woman says, running the hand that’s not holding her shoes through her hair. A nervous habit, maybe? Or perhaps she had blunt trauma to the head that her hair hid? What the hell is your life now, Sam?
“This is great! New friend!” Thor shouts, clapping her on the shoulder. The woman starts and stares up at the Viking with wide eyes. “Tell us! What is your name? How did you die?”
“Thor!” Alberta admonishes, “You can’t just go around, asking people how they died! It’s rude!”
“What? I see all you die, so I never have to ask!” Thor says. The new ghost takes a step away from him.
“This newcomer doesn’t have to share anything with us! Unless, of course, you want to liven up the place a bit-” Sasappis begins but is cut off by Pete clearing his throat.
“Or, you can just start with your name!” Pete says, ever the diplomat. Everyone turns to the stranger expectantly.
“My name is Daphne,” she says, waving to the group with her free hand.
“That’s a hot name,” Trevor says, with his typical charming grin. Sam rolls her eyes, as does the rest of the group.
“Thanks, I’m sure that’s why my parents picked it,” Daphne deadpans. Trevor barks out a laugh.
“Now, now. There are more important things to be asking our new compatriot,” Isaac says, stepping in front of Trevor before he could make whatever sleazy comment he was thinking up. “You say you have traveled around as a ghost- have you ever been to Greenwich Village? And if so- is the ghost of Alexander Hamilton there?” Everyone groans. Daphne tilts her head, considering the question.
“The guy from that musical?” She asks. Isaac waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.
“Yes, yes, But that matters not. He was my rival in life, and I simply must know if he also suffers this endless purgatory!” Isaac exclaims.
“What’s your name?”
“Isaac Higgintoot. I was a Congressman and a Captain in the Revolutionary war,” Isaac says proudly, standing up straighter.
“I don’t remember you being in the musical.” Daphne quips, raising a manicured brow.
“I just said the musical didn’t matter! Oh, whatever,” Isaac harrumphs, collapsing onto the stairs dramatically.
“Yes, let’s focus on the more important stuff. Have you ever met a ghost that can taste food?” Sass asks next, shoving in front of Thorfinn.
“Um, I don’t think so. There was one guy who could make livings taste burnt toast when he walked through them though,” Daphne says, brow furrowed.
“That doesn’t help me!”
“Oh! How about Dorothy Willaims?” Alberta cuts in, “She was a fellow jazz singer whose gig I stole at a cocktail lounge- did she admit to killing me?”
“What?”
“Have you seen what ghosts are at the Farnsby’s? Is the lady of the house Catherine there? That conniving wagtail,” Hetty putters, clasping a hand over her chest. "I hope she is miserable!"
“Maybe we should move this into the living room?” Sam asks, feeling slightly sorry for Daphne. “And talk a little slower?” She remembers how overwhelming it was at first when all the ghosts were bombarding her with questions.
“I’m gonna go make us some breakfast- but catch me up on all this later! I gotta know what new stuff we learn about the Ghost rules,” Jay says, giving her a kiss on the cheek before making his way to the kitchen.
“Bye, Jay!” Pete smiles and waves. Obviously, Jay doesn’t respond. “Alright, troop! Why don’t we all go around and introduce ourselves?” The group shuffles into the living room- or sitting room as Hetty would say, as most of them were not living, which is fair. Daphne takes the armchair, plopping her heels onto the ground and crossing one ankle over the other. The room is absolutely buzzing with energy. Sam hadn't seen the ghost this excited since the first time she had opened up Netflix's browsing page.
“I’ll go first,” says Pete, who is standing as there weren’t enough seats. “My name is Pete Martino, I died in the ’80s from a heart attack. Just kidding!” Pete laughs at his own joke and points to the arrow in his neck, “It was the arrow.” He chuckles to himself, as if they were discussing the morning Marmaduke strip rather than the details of his demise.
“Was it a kid?” She asks, clearly referencing the scout uniform.
“Yes! Pro-tip, don’t stand downrange before giving the safety briefing!” Pete says with his usual chipper demeanor.
“She’s already dead, man,” Sass mumbles.
“You gave the kids arrows before the safety lecture?” Daphne asks, corners of her lips pulling up slightly.
“Alright!” Pete says a bit too loudly, “Who’s next? Flower?”
“I died in the 60s from a bear attack,” Flower says, turning to show the claw marks on her back. Daphne winces. Sam wonders how many ghosts she had met in the past few years, and what scars they wore.
“And, your name, Flower?” Pete prompts after a moment of silence.
“Yes! That is my name,” Flower agrees airily, waving her own hands in front of her face.
“Oy vey,” Trevor groans.
“Oh, oh! Me next,” Alberta fluffs up the feathers on her hat. “I was a famous Jazz singer in the 1920s who was mysteriously murdered by a jealous rival.”
“Or by an idiotic bootlegger. It isn’t like moonshine production was regulated during Prohibition,” Isaac snarks.
“Oh, shut up.”
“I don’t think I will. My turn! Once again, I am Captain Isaac Higgentoot. I passed from sickness-”
“Dysentery,” Sasappis snickers. Isaac glares.
“Yes, thank you, Sass. During the Revolutionary War,” Isaac finishes.
“And you hated Hamilton,” Daphne adds on.
“The man, not the musical,” Hetty interjects. “He pretends to dislike it, but I know he did enjoy it! It is a brilliant experience.” Isaac grumbles but doesn’t disagree.
“Lin Manuel-Miranda does have a gift,” Daphne agrees, relaxing more as the conversation went on.
“I see your taste in musical theater is better than that in clothing,” Hetty says snobbishly, wrinkling her nose. “How will you ever find a respectable man while you are flaunting your bare shoulders in such a way? And what is with this whorish skirt opening that reveals your leg? Did you trip and tear the dress upon your unfortunate passing?”
“If you hate this, I’d love to see what you think of the fits I would wear to the club,” Daphne grins, luckily taking Hetty’s insults in stride.
“You should describe them! In detail,” Trevor says, eyes roving over Daphne’s ‘whorish skirt opening.’
“We’re getting a little off-topic here, guys!” Pete says, clapping his hands once and politely keeping his eyes averted from Daphne’s skirt. “Hetty, why don’t you actually introduce yourself before sharing your thoughts on our guest’s fashion choices.”
“Oh, alright. I am Hetty Woodstone, in life, I was the Lady of this house,” Hetty sniffs. “It is because I kept my chest covered-”
“Alright! And we are moving on!” Pete says. “Sass, you’re next. Keep it short and simple, for our guest, please.” Pete shoots a disapproving look at Hetty, who ignores it.
“Sure. I am Sasappis, I was a Lenape storyteller and died here in the 1500s,” Sass says, and Pete sighs in relief. “So I’ve been here for 500 long, boring, years- while the storyteller inside me begs for any morsel of entertainment- or interesting tales, such as how people came to die-”
“Oh my gosh,” Pete groans.
“It’s fine," Daphne says, "Sorry to disappoint, Sass, but my death was pretty boring. I just took some bad pills at an afterparty,” Daphne says, frowning and pulling at her skirt.
“Me too!” Trevor cuts in, grinning like a madman. “We have so much in common!”
“I think you and I have different definitions of ‘so much,’” Daphne says, putting air quotes around ‘so much.'
“I’m Trevor, by the way,” Trevor says, giving a little bow from where he stood. He had also not gotten a seat. Daphne's gaze drifts downward. Here we go...
“Why do you have socks and shoes on?” Daphne asks.
“Aren’t you more curious about the pants? Or lack-there-of,” Alberta says, chuckling to herself.
“I can guess why you have no pants on,” Daphne says with a smirk, “The real mystery is the shoes.”
“It’s a long story, I can tell you later if you’d like. Alone,” Trevor winks.
“Is it long? In my experience, guys like you have stories that don't... last very long,” Daphne says with a grin. Alberta, Thorfinn, and Sass burst out laughing. Trevor gapes, speechless for a moment. Sam tries and fails to suppress a smile.
“Trevor can tell long stories too! He’s told us a bunch back when we had Food Club!” Pete chimes in, as helpful and oblivious as ever. Alberta just laughs harder at that.
“Oh, no Honey, that’s not-” Alberta forced out between bouts of laughter, “Sorry, I can’t! I’ll explain it later-” She gets out. Pete seems happy enough with that plan to not press the subject further.
“Yes, very funny joke! I do understand,” Thorfinn bellows, readjusting his belt, “I will also come help explain to Pete, later,” he adds. Pete deflates a bit at that.
Trevor shakes off his shock and plasters a smile on his face. “You’re funny, Daph. Where are you from?”
“The city- New York City. I died there too. I’m actually making my way back there now,” Daphne says, pointing in the general direction of the city.
“We just moved here from the city!” Sam says, excited to finally have an in on the conversation. “Jay and I, I mean. I inherited this place, and now we’re running it as a Bed and Breakfast!”
“That’s cool,” Daphne says.
“We must have been in the city around the same time! Small world!” Sam says, trying to think if she had ever seen Daphne before. A dumb thought, because it’s a big city with millions of people, but whatever.
“Yeah, I guess…” Daphne frowns down at her clasped hands. Guilt brews in Sam’s stomach- she must have said something wrong. Newly dead ghosts don’t want to be reminded of being alive, idiot! “Anyways- I should probably get going,” Daphne says, collecting her shoes and standing up.
“What? No! But you just got here!” Hetty trills, standing up as well. The rest of the ghosts voice their agreements.
“Well- you know. Gotta keep moving!” Daphne says, with false enthusiasm. Or, at least, it seems fake to Sam.
“I do not know!” Thor bellows, “Why move so fast? There is a living right here! She plays the TV for us! It is this magical window that shows stories.”
Daphne blinks. “Dude, I know what a TV is. I died, like, two years ago.”
“Thor is right, however, about there being a living to interact with here,” Isaac says, his voice taking on a convincing tone. Daphne chews on her lip.
If she were to stay, it may entertain the ghosts for a while, giving Sam a break while she worked on fixing up more rooms. Don’t get her wrong, she loves talking with her deceased friends, but they were a little needy sometimes. Having a new ghost around would certainly distract them, at least for a bit. They may have gotten off on the wrong foot, with the whole intruder misunderstanding, but Daphne seems nice enough. Certainly nicer than Stephanie was, at least.
“You should stay around a while! Having a new face around here would be nice for a change!” Sam says, putting on her most welcoming smile.
“But I need to be back in the city for- um- something,” She winces and rubs the back of her neck, “Soon. Ish. Well, not that soon, but it’ll take me a month to get there so I do need to get going. Besides! You were trying to kick me out earlier,” Daphne points out.
“Yeah, when I thought you were a living intruder who broke into my house to take a nap,” Sam says with a laugh.
“I can see in hindsight why you were being so pushy,” Daphne admits, smiling sheepishly.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” An idea dawns on Sam. “Can you sit in a moving car?”
“Yeah, but I need to get into it while it’s still, and sometimes I fall out,” Daphne answers, cringing a bit at the thought.
“That’s perfect!”
“It is?”
“Well- not the falling out part- but I can drive you! If you fall out, I’ll notice and stop long enough for you to get back in! That way, you can rest here for a bit, and won’t need to walk all the way to the city!” Sam says, bouncing a bit in her seat as the plan comes together in her head.
“Sounds like a plan!” Isaac declares.
“A good plan,” Trevor adds.
Daphne chews her lip some more, considering them all. “Alright, why not?” She says finally, falling back into her chair, still not looking convinced. “I can stick around for a bit.”
The ghosts all cheer, and Daphne manages a small smile.
“Yay!” Flower claps, “What are we cheering for?”
“New friend Daphne is staying!” Thorfinn laughs, clapping a hand on Isaac’s back.
“Good god, man,” Isaac complains, massaging his shoulder.
This is good, Sam thinks. Getting to know someone new is always exciting, and this would give her and Jay an excuse to go back to the city. Maybe Daphne knew some interesting things about the world of Ghosts from her travels, as well.
“Now, about that Catherine...” Hetty begins after everyone settles down again.
“Wait your turn Hetty! I have 10 more suspects to ask about!” Alberta argues.
Content that the ghosts were sufficiently entertained, Sam pushes herself up. Maybe she could manage a private breakfast with her husband, for once. Where they’ll probably talk about the ghosts anyways, but alone. When she makes it to the kitchen- the ghost’s arguing thankfully muffled by the walls- Jay pushes a full, steaming mug into her hands.
“Have I ever told you I love you?” Sam sighs, finally getting a mouthful of coffee.
“You could say it more. Now, what’s the story with this new ghost?”