Ghosts of Bergen County by Dana Cann

Author:Dana Cann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tin House Books
Published: 2016-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mary Beth got out of bed, as usual, after Gil had left to catch his train. She packed a bag with water and snacks. She left the house at the usual time, but, instead of turning right on Amos Avenue and walking up toward the School on the Ridge, she turned left, down Amos Avenue to the Glen, the way she once had with Catherine in the stroller. Despite Mary Beth’s entreaties, Amanda hadn’t revealed herself in the house, and Mary Beth didn’t yet know how to confront Gil about the ghost.

But she had a theory, which took her down Amos, to Glen Street, past Lyttondale and the School in the Glen, past the coffee shop and hair salon, the store that sold toys and children’s books, past the pub and restaurant to the town’s public library, a freestanding structure built with stone left in the Glen when the ice retreated tens of thousands of years ago. The library stood next to the municipal building, which stood next to the train station, all built with the same stone.

She arrived just as it was opening, just as the librarian turned the key in the front door and pushed it to let Mary Beth in. She was the first visitor, and she greeted the librarian, and, not knowing what else to do, followed her to her desk in the center of the main reading room. Computers lined the wall to the left, and the popular library, arranged alphabetically by author, was shelved to the right.

“I’m wondering if you could help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” The librarian wore a cheery smile. It seemed suddenly important that Mary Beth not act desperate, that her research was for casual interest only. Glen Wood Ridge was not a place of desperation. Lives were lived here—normal, productive lives. She wished to adapt.

“I’m looking for maps of the town, something historical, maybe going back fifty years.”

“Of Glen Wood Ridge.”

“Yes.”

The librarian stood, holding her smile. Mary Beth supposed that a library was a wonderful place to work. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Mary Beth followed the librarian past the line of computers, past the sections for biography and world history and US history and New Jersey history to a section comprising two shelves: Local Interests.

“Here.” The librarian hooked her finger to the top of a thin volume, pages folded and stapled, not bound, with a beige cover: Glen Wood Ridge: A History, by Emmanuel Wright. “This was commissioned by the town council to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the town’s founding.” She opened the book to its title page. “See.” She tapped her painted nail to the copyright—1968. “The town was founded in 1918.”

Mary Beth knew this, of course. The metal signs stationed at various points on the town’s perimeter said so, and it was the thing the real estate agent had shared when he’d driven them out here the first time, giving Mary Beth hope for the old house she’d wanted. But she’d wound up with a new one, and only now had learned that, despite being new, it inexplicably had a ghost.

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