Chapter One

No one ever moves to a place like the Wilkes Barrington Arms Apartments because they're moving up in the world. One might be moving on up in the world when they move to a deluxe apartment in the sky in the Upper East Side but when moving to a place like the Wilkes Barrington the theme song might be more appropriately titled Moving on Down.

It's not that the Wilkes Barrington is shabby tenement infested with cockroaches. In fact, the Wilkes Barrington is a stately Victorian-era Queen Anne which had been recently completely renovated. There was nothing wrong with the Wilkes Barrington other than the matter of its location. But what a location. The man who coined the phrase, "Location, location, location," surely had the Wilkes Barrington in mind.

You see, the Wilkes Barrington was butt up against the Verboten Woud. Now you might be wondering who would build a house right next to a haunted forest. The answer is that the original owner of the property was quite insane. However, that still doesn't explain how the house had come to be renovated and turned into a bunch of apartments. The answer to that is Ranalea Wilkes and Bill Barrington. To call them insane or crazy really doesn't do them justice. They're so much more than that.

As I said, there is nothing wrong with the Wilkes Barrington itself. The house was a beautifully restored Victorian. The exterior was forest green with white trim and a roof of actual grey slate. All the windows had functional wooden shutters. The porch was expansive and wrapped halfway around the house. I was able to count no less than three second and third floor balconies. The Wilkes Barrington was a three story plus attic Queen Anne with a four story tower at the front corner which terminated the porch at the main entrance .

The house was surrounded by a meticulously maintained lawn and a number of carefully arranged flower beds. The property itself was surrounded by a low brick wall along the east side of the property and a neatly trimmed hedge along the north and west sides. All in all it made for a fairly picturesque setting.

"Well, you gonna get out of the truck or are you just gonna stare at the place all day?" my dad demanded from the driver's side of his truck we were both sitting in.

I jumped as if pricked by a needle. "Sorry, I was just lost in thought," I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the passenger side door. I climbed down from the pick-up and walked around to the rear of the vehicle.

Dad climbed out the driver side door with a grunt before slamming the door shut behind him. "Moving, moving, moving. Seems like that's all I ever do sometimes, help people move."

I bowed my head and let my shoulders slump. "Sorry, Dad."

He waved off the apology as he walked around to the rear of his truck to stand next to me. "Naw, not a big deal. If I can't help my own family then who can I help? Though I would appreciate if you would spend sometime here before deciding to move somewhere else."

"Of course," I said. "I don't plan on moving any time soon."

He dropped the tailgate and eyed my belongings packed into the bed of the pick-up."Well, you are going to be living next to the Verboten Woud. Don't take too long to decide to move to somewhere else." He moved down the side of the pick-up, undoing the bungee cords holding down the scant furniture and boxes of clothes and household belongings. "At least you don't have much to move. Could be worse, could be lugging a big heavy fridge up three flights of stairs."

My dad is a pretty big burly guy and in fact had moved a big heavy refrigerator up three flights of stairs only two weeks earlier. With help of course. My help. Unfortunately for him I'm not nearly as big and strong as he is so he did all of the heavy lifting while I was the one making sure the furniture dolly didn't tip over or get caught on anything. Compared to that I suppose my twin size bed and small dresser aren't much to worry about.

He pulled out the wooden rails to the bed and pulled them up under his right arm so they were in the crook of his arm while using his left hand to steady them. "Okay, Ronnie, go ahead and get the piece for the foot of the bed. Don't worry about the headboard, I get that next trip."

"I can handle the headboard just fine," I protested. "I'm not that weak."

"Nobody's saying you're weak, Ronnie," Dad said, his voice full of the long-suffering tone that a parent might take with a small child. "In this case though I'm exercising a father's prerogative."

I shrugged and pulled the wood piece that made up the foot of the bed out of the bed of the truck without complaint. It wasn't heavy at all and I lifted it quite easily although I used both arms to carry it. I followed my dad up the walk to the front porch. As he started up the steps the front door slammed open and Ranalea stepped out onto the porch.

"You're here earlier than I expected," she said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"I'm sorry," I replied. "I guess we could come back later if it's more convenient.

She took a deep drag off of her cigarette and then shook her head before blowing out a big puff of smoke. "Naw, I'm up now, just waiting for the first pot of coffee to finish brewing."

"Yeah, we're here now, might as well get this stuff moved in," Dad said. Ranalea moved out of his way and he stepped through the doorway and I followed, walking past Ranalea and following my dad up the stairs.

"After you get that stuff up to the apartment you two take it easy for a bit," Ranalea called out after us. "I'll kick Bill out of bed and have him give you a hand."

"Not really necessary," Dad called back. "Me and Ronnie can take care of this."

"Helping out the new tenant is the least that lazy bastard can do," she yelled up the stairs. A moment later the door downstairs slammed shut.

When Dad reached the third floor he came to a stop. "I hope you remembered the keys, Ronnie."

I sat the end piece down and squeezed past him before fumbling the keys out of my pocket and unlocking the door to my apartment. "No, I didn't forget," I said as I opened the door and then stepped inside, moving out of Dad's way.

As Dad deposited the bed rails in what would be my bedroom/livingroom I took a good look around at the apartment I was going to be living in for the foreseeable future.

The front door of the apartment opened directly into the room that would serve as both living room and bedroom. The far side of the room opened into a walk-in closet nearly large enough to be a small bedroom in its own right. Directly opposite the closet was a short hallway with a tiny kitchenette on one side and a tiny bathroom on the other. At the end of that hallway sat a small room lined with bookshelves set into the walls, which most likely served as a study. The study itself had a door that opened onto a covered balcony that was shared with another apartment.

"C'mon, quit gawking back there, Ronnie," Dad yelled from the front room. "You'll have all the time in the world to stare at the apartment later."

"Sorry, Dad, I just couldn't help looking around," I said as I stepped back into the front room.

Downstairs we found that Ranalea was as good as her word. Standing on the porch with her with a cup of coffee in his hand was a man even taller and burlier than Dad. "Bill Barrington," he said, holding his free hand out to Dad.

Dad took his hand and shook it. "Rob Lanyard. Just helping Ronnie get all moved in here. Fortunately there isn't much to move in."

When Dad released his hand Bill looked over at Dad's Ford F-150. "Guess that's the good part about moving a son as opposed to a daughter; not so much clothes and shoes to box up and move."

I didn't know how to react to that so I ended up just looking down at my shoes. For a moment I felt exactly like I had many times back in high school right after embarrassing myself in a public setting. My body flushed and I instantly felt hot, sweaty and every square inch of me itched uncontrollably. As I stared down at my feet I found myself hoping yet again for a black hole to open up underneath me.

"Bill, you great lummox, Ronnie is a girl!" Ranalea snarled as I looked back up, startled.

"Really? But his, I mean, her name is Ronnie and she's got really short hair," Bill protested. "Plus she's dressed like a-"

Ranalea gave him a look of disgust. "Yes, Ronnie, short for Veronica, you dunce! I already told you that! And as far as I know there aren't any laws against girls having short hair. And there's nothing wrong with how she dresses."

Bill considered that for a moment. "Oh," he said and fell silent for a moment. "Ms. Lanyard, I'm really sorry."

I looked at Dad but he seemed content to remain silent for the moment although he had the smallest hint of a smirk. It was obvious that he was waiting to see my reaction. "It's okay," I said. "It's not this is the first time I've been mistaken for a boy."

"Even so, I'm awfully sorry, Ms. Lanyard," Bill said.

"You can just call her Ronnie," Dad said. "Everyone else does."

I nodded, having everyone refer to me as 'Ms. Lanyard' would feel very weird to me. "Yes, just calling me Ronnie is fine."

"Well, Ronnie, we'll let these two big strong men move your stuff upstairs while we enjoy a cup of coffee," Ranalea said.

I wasn't very excited about the idea of making the landlord of the place move my things into my apartment while I took it easy with a cup of coffee and chatted with his girlfriend. "Um, thanks but I think I should move my stuff. I don't want to bother Mr. Barrington with it."

"Mr. Barrington indeed!" Ranalea laughed. "You don't have to be so formal. Just call him Bill."

"Yeah, I'll feel weird if you call me Mr. Barrington all the time," Bill agreed. He pointed at Ranalea. "But you probably should call her Ms. Wilkes though. She's a stickler for being addressed by her proper title."

Ranalea rolled her eyes. "Hilarious, Mr. William Barrington. C'mon, Ronnie. I'll fix you up with a coffee while the men move your stuff up to your place."

I still wasn't keen on the idea of my landlord being forced to move my things. "Um, but I can do that, really."

She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the house and to a door that I could only assume was the front door to their apartment. "Bill can handle it," she said. "It's the least he can do after calling you a boy."

"It's really not a big deal," I said. "Like I said before, it's not the first time. It's not even the tenth time."

Ranalea took a mug out of the dish drainer next to the sink, setting it on the counter before filling it with coffee. "People are idiots," she said as she returned the carafe to the coffee maker. "Creamer or sugar?"

"Do you have half and half?" I asked.

"Sure do." She opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of creamer and set it on the counter.

After pouring a dollop of creamer into my coffee I was at a loss at what to do. I didn't want to just leave it on the counter, that would be lazy. On the other hand I didn't want to open the refrigerator without permission. Opening up someone's refrigerator was like going into someone's bathroom and looking through their medicine cabinet; a gross invasion of privacy unless it was someone intimately familiar. Still holding the carton of creamer I hesitated, unsure what to do with it. I twisted around to shoot a questioning look at Ranalea. "Um...."

"Oh, just pop it back in the fridge," she said. "Don't ever hesitate to go into the fridge if there's anything you ever want."

Yeah, right. Like there was a chance that would ever happen. However, I did open the door to the refrigerator and place the creamer back.

"Come here and have a seat," she said, patting the stool next to her at the spacious kitchen island where she had already seated herself. "We'll have a nice little chat just between us girls."

"Actually, I think it's supposed to be 'we girls'," I said.

"Huh?"

"Well, you said, "...a nice little chat between us girls," I said "But I think 'between we girls' is technically correct."

Ranalea shook her head. "Nope, 'us girls' is right, not 'we girls'. Think about it. Which sounds right, 'a nice little chat between us' or; 'a nice little chat between we'?"

It took a moment to understand her point but when I did I instantly realized how stupid I sounded. That's what I got for trying to sound smart. Too late I remembered the proverb; "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt."

"A quote commonly but incorrectly attributed to Abraham Lincoln," Ranalea said.

To say I was floored would have been an understatement. I can only imagine what I looked like; staring at her in a combination of amazement, awe and no small amount of fear. "How- how did you know what I was thinking?" I asked once I had gathered my wits enough to manage speaking.

She smiled and tapped a finger against her temple. "Living this close to the Verboten Woud for an extended period of time has unusual side effects."

I recoiled from her in horror. "You mean you can read minds?"

"Not hardly," she said with a laugh. "At least, not actively. I can't snoop in people's heads if that's what you mean. It's more like I can pick up on people's stray thoughts. Even then it's pretty hit or miss. You have some noisy thoughts though, so it's relatively easier to pick up on what you happen to be thinking at any given time."

I found the concept of 'noisy' thoughts to be a weird one. "How does someone have 'noisy' thoughts?"

"I'm not sure how it works but my working theory is that usually it's the people who are quiet, shy and timid that have the noisiest thoughts," Ranalea said. "My theory is that people who have trouble expressing themselves socially, for whatever reason, make up for it internally."

"I guess I fit into your theory quite nicely," I said.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, and I'm grateful, really. I do love being right about things. You're hardly the only one in this house though."

"Mr. Barrington?" I said.

Ranalea laughed hard enough that she had to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes. "Sorry," she said when she finally managed to stifle the laughter. "I'm not laughing at you, really. It's just the idea of Bill being a shy introvert who has trouble talking to people. Bill is many things but shy isn't one of them."

"I see." I had never considered my social awkwardness as anything other than a curse. For Ranalea it seemed more like a lab experiment. Being my landlady's part-time lab rat wasn't my ideal situation but it was better than some of the alternatives.

"Actually, your next door neighbour has even noisier thoughts than you," she told me.

It hadn't even occurred to me to wonder about the other tenants. "So my neighbour is also really shy?"

"You could say that," Ranalea said, nodding. "Of course, 'shy' doesn't really do her justice. 'Painfully withdrawn from society' might be more accurate."

"Sounds like I won't see much of her," I said. I wasn't sure whether I should be disappointed or relieved.

"Oh, you'll probably see her from time to time," Ranalea said. "Mostly staring out of her bedroom window. It can be sort of creepy. But she doesn't mean any harm. However, the tenant on the second floor calls her the Ghost Lady."

"The Ghost Lady? Does she look like a ghost?"

"Oh yes, quite," she said. "Not a 'Casper the Friendly Ghost' type of ghost. More like ghost girl from 'The Ring'."

I didn't voice the fact that I found the ghost girl from 'The Ring' to be spookily attractive. I was sure Ranalea already thought I was weird. I didn't need her to add, 'other creepy third floor tenant' to the list of my many oddities.

As it turned out, thanks to my noisy thoughts I didn't need to say a word. "No, I don't think you're creepy," Ranalea told me. "I don't think you're weird either. At least, not any more than the rest of us."

"Is this something I can look forward to?" I asked. "Picking up other people's noisy thoughts?"

Ranalea gave me a strange look as if I suddenly had begun spouting incomprehensible gibberish. "Why would you be able to do that?"

I was at a loss for a moment. It was as if we were suddenly having to completely unrelated conversations. Or perhaps I was remembering a conversation that had never actually happened. Despite my sudden feeling like I was in the conversational equivalent of a bog I tried to soldier on. "But you said your ability was due to living so close to the Verboten Woud. I assumed that since I'll be living here that eventually I'll also-"

"Oh that!" she said as if suddenly remembering the earlier exchange. "Yeah, living this close to the Verboten Woud will certainly affect you. For lack of a better way to explain it, the Verboten Woud leaks magical energy and the human body tends to soak up that energy like a sponge. But everyone is different. For me it manifested as the ability to pick up thoughts from people. If you're here long enough you'll definitely notice the difference. But how it will manifest itself is something I can't predict."

"Maybe cancer," I said.

She emphatically shook her head. "There's never been a study linking the Verboten Woud's magical energy to cancer or any other kind of disease. Just the opposite actually, medical study after medical study have shown lower rates of cancer, heart disease and...well, lots of things."

"So magic is good for people," I said although I was far from convinced.

"Believe me, I understand your skepticism," Ranalea said. "And I wouldn't necessarily say it's good for people. Even though the magic of the Verboten Woud seems to have some sort of health benefit for the human body the same can't be said for the human mind. An extreme example of that would be our own Jezebel-"

"Jezebel?" I asked, cutting her off.

"I'm sorry," she replied, "that would be the previously mentioned Ghost Lady. She does have a proper name after all. Anyway, as I was saying, she is an extreme example of the less than beneficial side effects of living too close to the Verboten Woud. Of course there less extreme cases like Bill and myself."

"You're crazy?" I said. "You seem pretty sane to me."

"I'm not Ghost Lady crazy," she agreed. "But Bill and I are living ass-up against the Verboten Woud. We must be at least a little insane."

"I guess I must be a little insane too," I added.

"Well, it will help you fit in better around here if you are," Ranalea said.

That's when Bill and Dad showed up, having finished moving my meager belongings. "Well, that was easy," Bill said as he took a mug off of its. hook and set it down on the counter. "Help yourself," he said, looking over at Dad.

"Don't mind if I do," Dad said and followed Bill's example, taking a mug off of its hook and setting it down next to Bill's coffee mug.

As Bill poured coffee for Dad and himself I realized with a start that I was still holding onto a cup of coffee I hadn't even touched. I brought the cup up to my lips and discovered that the coffee had grown lukewarm. I grimaced a bit as I took a sip but continued to drink anyway.

"Dump it out and pour yourself a new cup," Ranalea said as she watched me. "This coffee is too good to be drank lukewarm."

"This really is good coffee," Dad said, interjecting his agreement.

I did as I was told and dumped the coffee into the sink before pouring myself a new cup from the carafe. I poured a bit of creamer into the coffee and took a sip. It really was good coffee. Extremely good, the coffee equivalent of sex. Shocked, I looked up from the cup of coffee to look at Ranalea.

"A lot of factors go into a good cup of coffee," she said. "Not the least of which are the coffee beans and the coffee maker."

"Really?" Dad said, clearly curious to hear the secrets to making a great cup of coffee. "I figured all coffee makers are about the same. And I always use Folger's French Roast."

"Folger's isn't bad for a commercially mass-produced coffee in a can," Bill told him, "but for the very best coffee you want to grind the beans fresh. To their credit, Folger's does use good beans."

"Okay, but what about the coffee maker?" Dad asked.

"Ah, that's the real secret," Ranalea said. "Like you most people think that all coffee makers are more or less the same."

"I suppose expensive is better," Dad said.

"Well, the best coffee makers are expensive," she replied, "but not all expensive coffee makers are good. See, the secret to great coffee is both the temperature of the water as it goes into the coffee grounds and length of time the water is in contact with the grounds."

"Not to mention the quality of the water itself," Bill added.

"There is that too," Ranalea agreed. "Using tap water with good coffee is just a waste of good coffee unless you have a decent filtration system. Although I prefer spring water myself."

"Yeah, we go up into the Adirondacks every couple of months to get fresh mountain spring water," Bill said.

"The Adirondacks?" I said, shocked. I probably would have dropped the cup from my hand except that in my surprise I ended up clutching the cup in a death-grip. "That's way deep into the Verboten Woud!"

Ranalea shrugged. "The air is clean, the water is fresh and the scenery is beautiful."

"Cold as shit in the winter though," Bill observed.

"You should come with us next time," Ranalea said to me. "It really is incredibly beautiful. Plus you'll meet interesting people."

"Yeah, for a certain value of 'people'. I'm sure they're very interesting though." I looked at my coffee with suspicion. "If this water really is from the Adirondacks...."

"For crying out loud, it's not going to do anything to you," Ranalea said.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Dad said, draining his mug. "All that magic talk is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo anyway. Now you were saying about the coffee maker?"

"Oh yeah, the best coffee makers are the ones that can heat the water to the proper temperature range," Ranalea said. "Which is from 195F to 205F."

"That doesn't sound like a big deal," Dad said.

"Actually, it kind of is a big deal," Bill said. "There are only a few coffee maker models that are certified by the Specialty Coffee Association of America and that certification is based on the ability of the coffee maker to heat water to the proper temperature range as well as total brew time."

"I don't get it, what's the difference?" Dad asked. "I mean, why can't other coffee makers heat water just as well?"

"Because most coffee makers use cheap aluminium heating elements instead of costlier copper," Bill explained. "A good heating element is expensive."

Dad nodded his head. "I see. So how much did your coffee maker cost, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We dropped about $250 on it," Ranalea said.

"Sweet Baby James, you folks must really be into coffee!"

"Yes, we really are," Bill said. "Besides, good coffee is the only thing that can turn Rana here into something approximating a civilized creature, so it was totally worth the money."

***

I waved at the departing Ford F-150, watching from the porch of the Wilkes-Barrington until the truck disappeared from sight.

"Sorry, about boring you with all that shop talk," Bill said as he fished a cigarette from his shirt pocket.

"Not at all," I said. "I think you and Ms. Wilkes have turned him into a coffee gourmand."

"Still, it must have been boring for you."

I shook my head. "Actually I enjoyed listening to the conversation. You two are passionate about coffee. I don't think it was boring at all. Plus, the coffee was excellent."

"Damn right it was," Bill said as he lit his cigarette. "The coffee is always excellent here."

Ranalea put a hand on my shoulder. "Well, Ronnie, I hope you enjoy living here. Bill and I are glad to have you here. If there's anything you need, just let us know."

"Feel free to drop in for a cup of coffee anytime," Bill added. "We are quite literally always brewing a fresh pot of coffee."

"Thanks for the invitation," I said. "However, I don't think I could handle having that much caffeine in my system if I drank as much coffee as you two."

"Sure you could," Ranalea said. "There'd be a lot of sleepless nights at first but your body would adjust eventually."

"Or I could just refrain from drinking so much coffee in the first place," I said.

"Sounds too radical," Bill said. "We had a couple of Mormons stop by once. You know, clean-cut young guys with backpacks in white button-ups and ties."

"Not to mention the J.W.s," Ranalea said.

"Well, the J.W.s are a slightly different brand of crazy, as you well know," Bill said. "Anyway, like I said, we had a couple of Mormon missionary types pay us a visit. Very polite and pleasant young men. So they were explaining their religion and it sounded pretty okay to me. Right up to the point where they got to the dietary restrictions part. No coffee? No tea? No me!"

"Yeah, I could see how that would be a deal-breaker," I said, picturing the conversation in my head. "So, the J.W.s came by here as well?"

"Heh, no, the J.W. visit was several years before we moved into this place," Bill said. "You know how the J.W.s always bring the whole family along when they go on their door-to-door campaigns?"

I nodded, I had been visited a couple of times by the local J.W.s so I was vaguely familiar with the J.W. campaign style.

"Well, one day a J.W. family paid me a visit," Bill said. "Now I really could have cared less about their religion but this family happened to have an absolutely stunning daughter." He shot a quick glance over at Ranalea. "She's still stunningly beautiful, by the way. Anyway, the moment I saw her I knew she was the girl I wanted. So I pretended to be interested in becoming a J.W.-"

"Three years later and the local J.W.s were down one daughter and Bill had himself a spiffy new girlfriend," Ranalea said.

"Three years," Bill said. "Rana sure is one stubborn girl."

"And you're one persistent bastard," Ranalea shot back.

"Lucky for you," Bill said. "Or else you'd still be a J.W."

"Well, there is that," Ranalea admitted. "I have thanked you many times already though. So, Ronnie, what about you? Any crazy religious affiliations we should know about?"

"My family's Lutheran. Are Lutherans crazy?"

"I think boring is a more accurate descriptor," Bill said.

"Oh, well-"

"I think you misunderstand me," Bill said. "Boring is good. Lutherans strike me as being boring in a reasonable down-to-Earth sort of way. We'll get along just fine."

"I'm not exactly Lutheran myself," I said. "My family is but I'm more...undecided."

"Undecided?" Ranalea said. "So maybe you want to be Methodist or Baptist?"

"Who says she even wants to be Protestant?" Bill replied. "Maybe she's thinking of converting to Catholicism."

"It's more like I'm trending toward agnosticism," I said.

Bill took one last drag off of his cigarette before crushing it out in the ashtray. "There is absolutely no shame in admitting that you don't know the true nature of the universe. In fact, it's probably the most sensible way of looking at the universe."

"So you're agnostic as well?" I asked.

"Not quite," Bill said. "I would say I'm more of a Deist. That is, I believe it's probable that some sort of Supreme Being exists. However, I think He, or She, or It, whatever, most likely doesn't concern Him/Her/Itself with us. We're like mold on a Petri dish. Or even less important than that. No, we're more likely an accidental by-product of the universe. Mold on a Petri dish was at least put there intentionally."

"So we're less important than mold."

"As a metaphor, yes," Bill said. "On an absolute cosmic scale we are equally important. Or equally unimportant."

"My boyfriend, the Philosopher King," Ranalea said. "Keep it up, Bill, and we'll find her body dangling from a rope tied to the light fixture in her bathroom just like the last tenant."

I couldn't even speak. I was all involuntary reaction, my hand covering my mouth as I instinctively took a step back.

"Dammit, Rana!" Bill snarled, glaring at her. "Don't do that! Look at her, she thinks you're serious! We live right next to a haunted forest for fuck's sake!"

It was clear that Rana hadn't expected my reaction. "Shit! I'm so sorry, Ronnie! I really thought you'd know I was just joking. I have such a shitty sense of humor sometimes."

I waved off the apology. I was left feeling stupid once again. Well, it was a feeling I was quite familiar with. "No, no, it's not a big deal," I insisted. "I'm too gullible. It's true, everyone says so."

"Awww, Ronnie, I-"

"No, really," I said, cutting her off. "I'm fine. Anyway, I really should go start unpacking my stuff. Thanks for the coffee." I made a show of stretching before heading for the entrance to the hallway.

"Even so, I'm sorry."

I paused at the doorway and turned back, smiling at Ranalea. "Really, I'm okay. If I was going to get all worked up every time someone teased me there would be no end to it. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"Okay," she called after me as I opened the screen door and stepped into the house, "but that smile is really unconvincing."