Title: It Happened One Christmas

Author: Mary

Rating: PG

Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, One housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a Monkey-Puzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A Ghost and Mrs. Muir/Partridge Family Crossover.

Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions. The Characters from the Partridge Family belong to Columbia Pictures, Bernard Slade, and producers Bob Clover, Paul Junger Witt, Mel Swope, William S. Bickley, and Michael Warren. No infringement is intended, no profit made, and they will be returned unharmed from whence they came. My story is for enjoyment only. Any brand names mentioned are used in context of the story and no infringement or endorsement intended. Any real people mentioned in this story are there in name only and make no personal appearance.

All other characters, plots, story lines and development of GAMM/Partridge Family characters belong to the author and may not be used or changed without express written permission. My heartfelt thanks to Susan G and Amanda K for volunteering to edit, beta read, listen to me, and encourage me during the writing of this story, Kathy for helping with some research I needed, and to Susan G for more research and mommy help and for giving me the starting seed to the story to begin with. Special thanks to Amanda, again, for helping me figure out how to re-write this story after FF Net enforced the 'no song lyrics rule.' If anyone wants the REAL version, let me know.

Credits: other to Joseph Addison for Carolyn's music quote and P.L. Travers for Mary Poppins

Mary

It Happened One Christmas

December 22, 1970 – Tuesday Night

Shirley Partridge clutched the steering wheel of the family's psychedelic school bus tightly, and peered out the front window, where she could barely distinguish the road in front of her through the falling snow, and cursed silently to herself. What a way to end a concert tour! she thought as she fought to keep the bus on the road. Miles from nowhere, and at this point, I don't know how we are ever going to make it to Mom and Dad's. The bus lurched again, and she could feel the rear wheels of the vehicle veer sideways a good two feet before she could straighten them.

"Sorry, guys." Shirley apologized to her children, gripping the wheel still tighter as she fought to keep the bus on the road. "If this keeps up, we may have to try and find a hotel or something, and wait for this storm to blow over. I hate spending the money, but we may not have a choice."

Keith, her eldest son, yawned from his seat and focused his hazel eyes on his mother. "Want me to take over for a while, Mom?"

"Not hardly, young man. You only stopped driving an hour-and-a-half ago — after a six-hour stint! You're supposed to be asleep."

"I'm too tired to sleep." He yawned again.

"I'd never have guessed." Shirley grimaced as the bus made another violent lurch.

"How much further do you think we have to go, Mom?" Laurie, Shirley's eldest daughter asked.

Shirley grinned in spite of herself. "You almost sound like you were eight again!" she laughed. "Are we there yet? That was always your favorite question whenever we went somewhere — it didn't matter if we were driving two miles or two-hundred."

"Blast from the past!" Laurie smiled.

"Mom?" Another voice came from the passenger seats.

"Yes, Danny?" His mother answered, gritting her teeth.

"Are you still mad?"

Shirley Partridge bit her lower lip as she continued to fight for control of the vehicle "Mad about what?"

"Uhm . . ." Her ten-year-old continued. "About Reuben and I boo . . ."

"Reuben and me."

"Reuben and me, booking this concert tour?"

"I haven't decided."

"Gee, Mom . . ." Danny Partridge screwed up his freckled face. "The money was really good, and the gigs were easy, only one show per . . ."

"One very LONGshow, Danny."

"One show per night, and the star dressing rooms in every city . . ."

"Right, Danny," Shirley agreed. "EVERY city. All ten of them . . . like Amherst, Boston, Augusta, Pripet, and what was that last city? I can't keep then all straight . . . Keystone? And I don't call one large room with modesty screens really great accommodations, by the way. Now here we are, in Maine, thirty-five hundred miles from home! Just wait until I get a hold of Reuben! Darn him, anyway! Next time he books one of these tours, he makes the whole trip with us. That IS what managers do! No leaving mid-trip just because he wants to avoid the snow!"

"We're really not thirty-five-hundred miles away from home, exactly." Laurie jumped back into the conversation. "It's only five-hundred miles to Philly, where Grandma Amanda and Grandpa Fred live, and we can take a real break there until after Christmas, just like we planned, and you know Reuben had to make that connecting flight to Arizona to be with his mother for Christmas."

"Yeah," Keith spoke up again. "Cheer up, Mom. We've finished touring for the year, and that's saying something, considering eight months ago we weren't even a group!"

Shirley Partridge smiled. It HAD been an interesting eight months! Who indeed would have thought that they would be a musical group with a song hitting top-forty and a best-selling album under their belts in such a short time? She shook her head in wonder.

"I'm still not sure how I ever let you talk me into this. We're barely going to get to Philadelphia in time for Christmas, and the roads are getting worse and worse. It's a good thing all of our presents to each other and Mom and Dad are already bought and wrapped and shipped to Philly."

"Aww, Mom," Danny objected. "The money was great, and it was good for our image to visit some of these smaller eastern towns. Every gig can't be Vegas, ya know."

"Think Grandma and Grandpa will peek, Mom?"

"At what, Chris?" Shirley asked her seven-year-old son.

"At the presents we sent," Chris explained patiently. "I still think it would have been easier to send Santa the list and let him deliver everything to Grandma and Grandpa on Christmas Eve. We could have . . ."

"You dope," Danny butted in. "There's . . ."

"Danny!" Shirley said sharply.

The entirely too mature ten-year-old shifted gears neatly. "There's no need for Santa to deliver presents for us, Chris," he continued. "Grandma and Grandpa want to see us, not get Santa gifts. Besides, we want to be there when they open their presents . . . and even better than that, they have presents for us!" Danny glanced at his mother, who nodded approvingly at his fast cover-up, but shook her head over her ten-year-old son's mercenary streak.

"I'm bored, Mom." Chris sighed again. "And I miss Simone."

Shirley fought another skid. "I do too, but he wouldn't be happy on such a long trip. Besides, you know how that dog loves to run. It worked out much better this time to airfreight him on ahead to Grandma and Grandpa's and let them take care of him. He will be coming home on the bus with us after Christmas! You'll be seeing him soon, honey. I promise. Have you finished your homework?" she asked, trying to distract him.

Chris nodded. "Yes . . . I think I'm caught up with everything Mrs. Naschez gave me. It's just too bad . . ."

"What's too bad, sweetheart?"

"Well, I don't know. I just thought that when we started traveling and singing that we wouldn't have to worry about homework unless we were at home."

"No such luck!" Keith said ruefully. "You know, sometimes I think I end up doing more schoolwork when we travel than I would if I just went to class every day. I gotta admit though, I kind of like keeping a travel journal for Geography. It gives me a chance to reflect and regroup . . . writing, I mean."

"Keeping a diary is very relevant," Laurie turned to her brother. "I keep two. One for school and another to explore my innermost feelings, and . . ."

"There she goes again!" Keith grinned. "Off on another psychological tangent."

"My big sister. Part of the lunatic hippie fringe." Danny added.

"Laurie, Hon, how's Tracy doing?" Shirley interrupted, trying to keep the expected bickering between her daughter and sons at a minimum. "She was looking awfully punky earlier. I think she's might really be coming down with something." Shirley fought to keep the bus on the road, while she made another turn.

Laurie rose and moved carefully toward the back of the bus where her five-year-old sister was sleeping, cuddling her favorite stuffed animal. Gently, she put a hand to Tracy's forehead. "I think she's getting warmer, Mom. In fact, I'm sure she is." Laurie frowned. "Actually, she's really hot . . ."

"I was afraid of that . . ." Shirley muttered. "We're really going to have to stop SOMEWHERE and let me get some medicine into her — aspirin, at least." She frowned, and then pumped the brakes of the bus. "Darn. Almost missed a turn . . . " And she made a grab for the map on the dashboard. "Now let's see . . . we make a right turn here . . ." Carefully, she made a wide turn onto Bay Road.

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"Mom, where are we?" Danny asked, peering out the bus window at the snow that was falling even more densely. "I thought we were headed toward the highway that goes to Philly. We must have gone at least three miles, and there's no highway anywhere around here, that I can see."

"I thought we were, too," Shirley sighed, and glanced at her children. "I must have made a wrong turn back there." She leaned closer into the wheel of the bus. "I guess I need to . . ."

"Mom! Look out!" Keith shouted.

"Mommy!" came Chris's shriller tone.

"Oh . . . " Shirley felt the bus start to slide out of control . . . What's the rule? Turn INTO the direction of the skid? What do I know? I live in California . . . Random thoughts ran through her brain. "Hold on, everyone!" There was a sickening crunch from under the front end of the bus, and it came to a sudden, jolting stop, tilting sideways at a deep angle. "Everyone okay?" she asked, keeping what she hoped was a steady tone to her voice.

"Okay here," said Laurie. "Tracy's fine, also . . . awake, but fine." And she gave her sister a hug.

"We're okay, too," said Keith, speaking for himself and his brothers. Glancing toward the back of the bus, he nodded. "Looks like the instruments are all right also. Nothing fell, or broke open, anyway."

Shirley exhaled slowly. "No bumps or bruises? You're sure?"

Keith nodded his head again; his sisters and brothers following suit. "We're fine, Mom. Not sure I can say the same about the bus. From that sound I just heard, I think it could be the front axle."

"Oh, no!" his mother moaned. "Not here! Not now!" She stole a look at Tracy, still curled up in the back with her sister. She could see now that the little girl's face was indeed flushed, and she was cuddling Laurie. Tracy wasn't a cuddler unless she was sick. This was not a good sign.

"No way to tell until we get outside," Keith grunted, grabbing his coat and gloves. "Let's go take a look."

"Me too," put in Danny, donning his jacket.

Together, mother and sons headed for the door of the bus, and into the falling snow.

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"Man, that is one messed up axle, from what I can see," Keith said, straightening his back and dusting the snow first off the knees of his jeans, where he had knelt to examine the bus, and then from the top of his head. It was a futile gesture at best with the way the snow was falling and blowing. "It's a cinch we are going nowhere tonight."

"You're sure?" his mother asked, giving him a worried frown. "You don't think we could just . . ."

He shook his head. "No way, Mom. First of all, we are in a ditch, and I don't think we can get ourselves out of it without a tow. Second, and more importantly, I'm pretty sure that front axle is broken. And if the axle IS broken, we are going no place, fast."

Shirley wiped the snow off her face. "Keith, this isn't good. We could freeze out here, and even if we could bundle up enough to stay warm for the night, Tracy is looking worse by the minute. I don't want her out in this weather all night . . . or any of you, really."

"I'm not sure what choice we have, Mom," Keith answered. "From the looks of things, and because of that wrong turn, we're sort of out in the boonies here. The best thing we can do at the moment is bundle up, keep the motor running on the bus, the heater on, and hope for the best until morning."

"Morning?" his mother gasped. "Why . . . " she glanced at her watch. "It's barely ten thirty, and it's freezing already. Daylight won't be here until at least six a.m. . . . There's no way I am going to have my children . . ."

"Children? Mom . . ."

"My children sit in the cold for the next eight hours."

"Mom, we could do it. It would be like camping out. We have our sleeping bags and stuff, and it's not like we would be outside . . ." Keith protested, unwilling to give up without a fight.

"Hey, Mom?" Danny said, looking off in the distance.

"Hush, Danny. Keith, I am still the head of this family. Playing lead guitar is not the same as being in ch . . ."

"Mom . . . " Danny said again.

"Shh."

"You heard her," Keith said, turning to his brother. "Why don't you get back in the bus? We need to tell Laurie and Chris what . . ."

"Keith, I told you we are not spending all night in a cold bus. We could at least try to . . ."

"MOM!" Danny shouted.

Shirley rolled her eyes and turned to her younger son. "Okay, Danny. You have my attention. You want to have your say, too, is that it?"

"Well, yeah. Kind of."

"Well, what's your vote? Camp all night inside the bus? See if we can do anything to . . ."

"Neither." Danny pointed. "I think we ought to make a hike for that house over there."

"HOUSE?"

"Yeah," Danny answered, and jerked his gloved thumb in the direction of lights, glowing softly in the distance, approximately one-quarter mile away. "That one. At least I THINK it's a house."

"Looks like it to me, too," Keith muttered. "I can't believe I missed those lights."

"Well, yeah. I get to be right, sometimes," Danny fired back.

"Enough, you two," Shirley cut in. "We'll discuss this later. Right now, back inside." And she gestured toward the door of the bus.

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"So what's the scoop, Mom?" Laurie asked, as the three climbed the stairs and stood in the front area, by the driver's seat, shaking the snow from their heads, and dusting it off their coats. "Are we ready to go?"

"Not unless you have a spare axle under your seat," Keith grimaced. "Ours has gone bye-bye."

"If you mean it is broken, just say so," Laurie made a face back at him. "I took that auto mechanics course at the YMCA this summer, remember?"

"Does that mean you can fix it?" Chris asked, turning to his big sister.

Laurie shook her head. "I might be able if I had the right tools . . . but not here. Not now, and definitely not in the snow!"

"The right tool being a big, strong, handso . . ."

"Don't even say it, Danny." Laurie gave her brother a sharp look. "So now what do we do, Mom?"

Shirley Partridge wiped the last of the water off her face. "We saw some lights burning in the distance, and we're fairly sure there's a house out there in this mess . . . maybe three or four blocks away. In the snow, it's hard to tell. We're going to go see if we can borrow a phone and call a mechanic, or something."

"Wait a minute, Mom . . . " Keith cut her off. "You . . . well, you're a female, and I don't think you should go. I'm the oldest male . . . I'll go find help."

"Not without me, you don't." Danny started pulling on the coat he had just removed. "Safety in numbers. No one is going anywhere alone in the dark and in the cold . . . not even you, bro. I'm coming with."

Keith nodded, and looked slightly relieved. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Maybe we should take Tracy with us?" Danny queried, looking at his sister, who had awakened and moved up toward the front to be with her brothers and sister. "She looks worse than she did twenty minutes ago. Possibly we . . ."

"Forget it, you two," Shirley said, holding up her hand. "There's no way I am going to send you out into the dark alone, in the snow! I guess we are staying put. Tracy is already sick. I don't need you two getting sick, too. Our voices are our livelihoods, after all."

"But you said we could get a cold or something if we camp out on the bus all night when it's freezing," Danny pointed out. "By then Tracy could get worse, and besides, who's to say it will stop snowing by morning? Then where will we be?"

"I hate it when Danny's right," Laurie added her two cents. "But in this case I think he might be . . . I mean about you staying here, Mom. Tracy might need you, or something. But he's wrong too . . . I'm second oldest, I should be going with Keith."

"Uh, Uh!" Keith shook his head again. "Not MY sister! No way! Something could happen to you."

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, Keith Partridge." Laurie sniffed. "Even if you can't protect me. Fine attitude! Chauvinistic, stubborn . . ."

"Don't start with the Miss Liberated stuff, Laurie!" Keith pleaded, and he turned to his mother. "Mom, you tell her. It's not safe for her or you to . . ."

"Excuse me, but can I butt in here?" Danny asked, raising his hand in the air.

Shirley sighed. "What is it, Danny?"

"Oh, just that since we have been arguing about who should go, the temperature has dropped, Tracy can't possibly be getting better, Chris looks like he is falling asleep, and if we are going to do something, we need to do it soon, before we can't!" And the ten-year-old stared out the window into the blackness. "I wish I could call Mr. Kinkaid. He'd send help."

"If we had a phone to call Mr. Kinkaid, we could call a garage instead, and we wouldn't have to call Mr. Kinkaid," Chris murmured sleepily from his seat.

Shirley grinned, in spite of herself. "Portable phones! Sounds like a great idea! Right up your alley, Danny! Go invent one! You'd be the first to use it, for sure!" Her face turned serious. "Okay, kids, decision time. Keith, Danny, go for it."

Keith turned to her. "You mean it, Mom?" he asked, buttoning his coat again.

"Really, Mom?" Danny asked, following his brother's example.

Shirley nodded. "Yes. Tracy doesn't look well at all, and I can't gamble on what will happen to her if she stays here all night. Go. I'm holding the clock. If you aren't back here in forty-five minutes, I'm coming after you!" She ran to the back of the bus and grabbed the longest mike cord they had from the pile of sound-system cords piled at the back of the vehicle. Carefully, she tied one end around Danny's waist and the other around Keith's.

"What's this?" her older son asked.

"This will keep you two from getting separated, and hopefully keep you from getting lost on the way to that house," Shirley explained.

"Cool idea!" Danny exclaimed, making sure his knot was tight. "Where'd you learn this trick?"

His mother shrugged. "Television. Something about mountain climbing. Can't remember what show, but this really isn't the time to talk about it. Oh, one other thing . . ." she added, as she saw Keith putting on his hat. ". . . Some people get really uptight about show people, especially rock groups. I wouldn't . . . Uhm, expand on that point . . . who we are, I mean. Just be polite, state the problem — that we were visiting the area for the holidays, got stranded, about the axle, about your sister being sick, and hope for the best. That's the truth. No need to elaborate. And incidentally . . ." another thought occurred to her. ". . . If someone answers the door, and you don't like their looks, or if their attitude rubs you wrong in any way, Turn around, and run, not walk, back toward the bus as fast as you can. Do you understand me?"

Keith nodded, and so did Danny, but her younger son protested, too. "You mean we can't tell them who we are? About the group? Our hit single? Anything?" Danny demanded, hands on hips. "They MIGHT recognize us, you know. Mom, what's the . . ."

"Knock it off, bro, or I'll change my mind, and take Laurie after all," Keith threatened.

"Okay," Danny muttered. "But just wait! I bet they'd be GLAD to be putting up the Partridge Family for the night!"

"Or putting up WITH the Partridge Family, maybe!" Laurie interjected. "At least one of the members!"

"Very funny!" Danny grimaced. "I get the message!"

"Charge!" Keith said, and quickly, Danny and Keith Partridge headed out toward the lights, flickering in the distance.

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Let it Snow was more than a song, it was reality set to music this night.

"Vaughn Monroe needs to learn to keep his mouth shut!" Carolyn Muir laughed, nodding toward the radio. "Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"

The spirit of Gull Cottage smiled. "I heartily agree, my dear!" And he reached for his teacup, put down the newspaper he was skimming through, and gazed into the fire. "The last time Schooner Bay has had snow like this was . . . let me think . . . 1868, I believe. The entire town was immobilized for almost a fortnight. A most interesting time, indeed!"

"I'll bet!" Carolyn nodded, glancing toward the window. "No tractors, snow-plows, radio, television . . . you must have really felt cut off from the rest of the world."

The seaman nodded. "I was! My ship was in port, of course, and I was here at Gull Cottage when the storm hit, but I didn't see a soul for most of that time immediately following. None of my mates could make it out my way for more than a week, and of course, not my cleaning woman. I managed, naturally. It was a nice time to rest and relax, but different, too."

"Well, I suppose if you had plenty of food and firewood you would have been all right," Carolyn mused. "Kind of like we are all set, now. I wish the snow hadn't made Mom and Dad cancel their plans for visiting here during the holidays! When you talked to your friends later, did any of them say anything about being worried about you?"

Daniel nodded. "Yes. My friend Sean O'Casey finally made it through on foot just to make sure I was alive and well, and he ended up staying in the guest room for a couple of days. By then the snow started to melt and life returned to normal."

"Was there any serious damage to property, or the ships in port, or anything like that?" Martha asked, fascinated.

"Some," the seaman admitted. "But not as much as there could have been. The real repercussions came months after the storm."

"What?" Carolyn asked, intrigued. "Floods? Property damage not discovered until spring?"

"No . . ." the seaman answered, with a twinkle in his eye. "We had a significant increase in the population of Schooner Bay the following September!" He laughed uproariously, and watched as both Carolyn and Martha's faces turned pink. Then the seaman's face turned grave. "I'm glad I was around for that . . ." he said, and gave a wan smile. "I was able to witness the christenings of several of my shipmate's children before I . . . died." His face turned sadder still, and for a moment, Carolyn thought he might fade out, as he sometimes did when matters disturbed him deeply.

"Daniel, I . . ." Carolyn started, trying to smooth over the moment, and keep him from leaving. "I'm —"

"Well, I for one, am getting just a little tired of this blasted snow!" said Martha, deciding that keeping the situation light might be the best course of action. She grinned and looked up from her corner where she was rocking away, working on the slippers she was determined to get finished for Candy for Christmas. "This white stuff can stop any time now, as far as I'm concerned. But the kids wanted snow for the holidays, and I guess that's one Christmas wish they DID get!"

Carolyn frowned and put down the book she hadn't been reading. "Well, I'm glad we finished all the holiday shopping and wrapping and decorating and whatnot a few days ago! This much snow is ridiculous . . . and if we didn't have much food in the house, it could really get scary . . . as it is, basically we could be trapped in here through Christmas!"

"I can't imagine being trapped with more delightful company than you and yours, my dear!" and Daniel Gregg gave Carolyn a special smile. "I hope you do know, however, that were you to need anything while the snow is preventing passage to and from town, that there is nothing I cannot do in regards to that! The weather does not affect me as it does you. Your latest writing project for that magazine? What was it again? You did get it safely sent off the other day, did you not? I would be glad to pop into town and drop it in the post, if need be. I could do it without being seen by anyone."

Carolyn shook her head. "No, Captain, but, thank you. I took care of it two days ago, and now I am gloriously free, free, free, until the New Year!"

"Which article did you finish, Mrs. Muir?" Martha inquired. "The one about the haunted lighthouse or the one about the dedication of that seaman's statue in New Devonshire?"

"I finished both of those two weeks ago," Carolyn smiled. "The one I just polished off was for Tomorrow Magazine. Tom Corbett, the editor, contacted me about writing it a couple of months ago. My article was about being a single mother and raising children in a small town, verses a large city, like Philly. It was pre-sold, and I loved writing it. I'm hoping he will ask me to do a follow-up, but I haven't heard anything from him, yet."

The clock on the mantle struck eleven and knock came at the door.

"What on earth . . . " Martha started, and looked first at her employer and then at the seaman.

"Now who could that be at this time of night?" Carolyn stood, and started toward the foyer.

"And in this weather?" Captain Gregg added.

"Claymore?" guessed Martha.

"Not very likely!" Daniel Gregg shook his head as the three made their way toward the front door. "You wouldn't catch that brittle-boned Milquetoast out on a night like this. Not for love or money . . ." He grinned. "I take that back. He might for money, but it would have to be a LOT of money!"

Carolyn smiled. "I don't think it's Claymore, Captain. But if you don't mind, could you . . ."

"Of course, my dear," the seaman answered, catching her drift. He vanished immediately, intent on invisibly checking out the late arrivals. Carolyn opened the front door, Martha right behind her, still carrying her knitting needles, just in case.

"Yes?" On the other side of the entryway stood Keith and Danny Partridge, soaking wet, ice cold, and water and ice streaming down their faces. Carolyn, rather taken aback at the sight, stared at the two boys . . . well, one was a boy, but the other was definitely more of a young man. "May I help you?"

Keith looked startled — as if he was almost surprised to see someone actually answer the door. "Oh! Hi!" He started speaking in a rush. "I'm Keith Partridge . . . " and a small clump of snow slid off of his hat, down his forehead and over his nose. Quickly he wiped it away. "And this . . . " he gestured. "Is my brother, Danny."

"Hello . . . " Carolyn smiled. "I'm Carolyn Muir, and this," she motioned to Martha, "is my housekeeper, Martha Grant."

"Glad to meet you!" Keith shivered and pulled off his wet gloves. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but we were driving through the area on our way to visit our grandparents, and got caught by this storm . . . and, well, our bus broke down about a quarter mile from here . . . slid into a ditch, actually. I'm pretty sure the axle is broken too." He gave Carolyn the same soulful look that had already appeared on the cover of various teen magazines, such as Tiger Beat and Sweet Sixteen. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but can we come in for just a moment, please and use your phone to call a mechanic?"

"We can pay you for the phone call . . . " Danny spoke up, and fished in his pocket. "Can you change a quarter?" he asked, holding one out to her.

"That won't be necessary!" Carolyn smiled. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid our phone stopped working over two hours ago. You know . . . all the snow . . ."

Danny shivered, and gave his older brother a look, and shrugged.

"Would you like a towel?" Martha asked, and held some out to the two.

"Thanks, Martha." Carolyn smiled. "I didn't even see you go get those."

"That's me, the miracle worker," the housekeeper rejoined.

The spirit of Gull Cottage materialized in the front yard into Carolyn and Martha's view — but behind the boys, who were still standing on the covered porch. Carolyn blinked. In spite of the blizzard going on outside, Daniel Gregg was, of course, coatless, and untouched by the snow falling around him. It was rather incongruous next to Keith and Danny, who were now toweling themselves off.

He nodded. "Don't worry, my dear. These two can neither hear nor see me unless I wish it. But the lads are telling the truth. I found the bus. It's covered in snow and ice. I didn't venture too close . . . I wanted to get back here, but it is definitely in a ditch, and from what I could tell, there is most assuredly something wrong with it."

"Please, both of you . . . come in and finish drying off!" Carolyn continued, hurriedly, before the two boys wondered what she was looking at, besides them. "I'm afraid there won't be any way to get a mechanic out here, since we can't call one, and I doubt if they could make it out here, anyway. You'll just have to stay here tonight, and we can call in the morning, or whenever the phone lines are back up."

Danny gave his brother a nudge in the ribs with his elbow, and Keith nudged him back. "I know . . ." he whispered, and turned back to Carolyn.

"Well, actually, it's not just us two. You see, my mom and sister and another brother and my other sister, Tracy, she's five, are still back at the bus. And Tracy isn't feeling good, either . . ."

The Captain disappeared, and then reappeared seconds later, before Keith had a chance to continue speaking, and nodded again, indicating what Keith said was accurate. "The young man is telling the truth, Madam. There are four other people still on that bus. You must get them to Gull Cottage, immediately."

"Well, don't just stand there!" Carolyn smiled, partly at Danny and Keith and partly at the spirit behind them, and then added in a more motherly tone than anything else: "What are you waiting for, you two? Get a move on!"

Danny and Keith gave her a slightly unbelieving look. This woman had really just volunteered to take in six total strangers?

"Well, go on!" Carolyn said, gently. "Come on, you two. You're going to catch your death if you're out all night in this weather!"

"It's terrible out," Martha added. "Not a fit night for man or beast OR gho . . . " She looked at the seaman, still standing behind the two boys. "Uhm . . . GO get your brother and mother and sisters, and hurry it up! I'll have coffee and hot chocolate ready for you by the time you all get back."

"Wait a minute . . ." Carolyn stopped Keith and Danny as they started to put on their wet gloves and hats. "Your things are soaked!" Quickly, she reached toward the small wire stand that Martha had put just to the left of the front door, designed to dry and store their winter hats and gloves. "Here," she said, handing Keith her black set and Danny Candy's beige one. "These will keep you a little dryer until you get back . . ." And she stopped again. "Maybe I should come with you?" But she broke off again as she saw the seaman shake his head, indicating that he would keep an eye on the two invisibly, and make sure, somehow, that they wouldn't get lost on their way back to the bus. "No, I guess not. You know where you're going, and besides, you have my hat! I'll wait here," she added. "And help Martha get things organized."

Martha nodded. "And I'll take these wet gloves and hats and dry them in my bathroom. There's a radiator in there and it's nice and warm."

"Now . . ." they two women paused. "Heave to!" they said together, and with an extremely grateful "thank-
you" to their unexpected hostesses, the two Partridges put on their borrowed hats and gloves, secured the microphone cord around their waists, and headed back to the bus.

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Shirley breathed a sigh of relief as her family made their way up the flagstone walk of Gull Cottage. Tracy was getting heavy, but Keith was carrying luggage, as were the other children, along with what food they had in the bus. No sense being more of a burden than they HAD to be! Everyone had his or her hands full . . . there was no sense trading one load for another.

"Now don't forget what I said, you guys," she whispered. "Follow my lead and play down the show-business stuff until we know what's what. First we need to get Tracy inside where it's warm, and then we'll work out the rest of this."

Her brood nodded, and the door started to open just as they began to knock.

"I'll take Tracy, and come back for this luggage," Keith said, letting loose of his load on the porch and taking his sister. "You better talk to Mrs. Muir, Mom." He took his sister and hoisted her over his back, piggyback style. "Come on, Trace."

"Hello!"Carolyn gave them a wide smile as she opened the door. So the holidays may get even more interesting! Carolyn thought. But really, what else can we do? Turning away this family in need would be like . . . like that last innkeeper turning away Mary and Joseph! Her thoughts continued. We'll be all right. Daniel said it was okay, in fact he encouraged them coming, and it's not like we have never had overnight guests . . . expected or not! Harvey Dillman and Gladys Zimmerman, Aggie, Uncle Albert, Tim Seagirt, my cousin Harriet . . . just never quite so many at one time before! Carolyn watched Keith, carrying a little girl, no more than five and a half, then a slightly-younger dark-haired girl, and Danny, followed by a little boy, somewhere around Jonathan's age, follow Martha toward the living room.

Shirley came in the door last, show and water dripping down her face, and she looked at Carolyn with what could only be described as complete and utter gratitude in her green eyes. Carolyn smiled back at her with her own green ones. "Hi . . ." Shirley smiled weakly, and pulled off her wet mitten to shake Carolyn's hand. "I'm Shirley Partridge. I'm really sorry about all this . . ."

"Nonsense," Carolyn smiled, taking Shirley's still-cold hand in her two warm ones. "I'm Carolyn Muir . . . Welcome to Gull Cottage!"

They all made their way to the living room where Martha was bustling around, collecting wet clothing and getting the children settled. "Now you all get those snowy things off, immediately!" Martha exclaimed. "My word, you must be freezing . . . We can't have you catching pneumonia! Where are you all from, again? You all get much snow? Were you ready for this weather?" She grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch and handed it to Shirley, now seated on the couch with Tracy, who was practically asleep, and Shirley wrapped her daughter up in it — leaving only her small, very red face visible.

"Thank you," she replied, gratefully. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate you taking us in like this. Please . . ." she gestured to the children around her. "Allow me to introduce my family. My sons . . . Keith and Danny, you've met. These . . . " she continued pointing around the room, " . . . are my son Chris, my daughter Laurie, and . . . " She gave her daughter a cuddle, "is my little one, Tracy."

"Pleased to meet you all," Carolyn waved to the Partridge children at large. "I'm Carolyn Muir."

"And I'm Martha Grant," the housekeeper interjected, "and I'm glad to meet you, too!" She grinned. "And what a full house we're going to have tonight! Now . . ." She looked more toward the children than Shirley. ". . .You just hand me those wet coats and mittens, and I'll start them drying, immediately, and then I'll just go check the status of the coffee and cocoa. It should be just about ready." She hastened out of the room, carrying the wet clothes.

"Are you all about ready for . . . coffee?" Carolyn looked at Keith, not quite sure what to offer the teenager.

"Yes, please!" He gave her a good-natured smile, and turned to his mother. "Mom?"

"Coffee would be wonderful" She turned back to Carolyn. "And maybe, if you don't mind, a glass of water? If I can get some aspirin into Tracy, she'll fall asleep shortly, and hopefully she'll sleep off this fever, before it goes too far."

"This is a really cool house," Danny commented, looking around. "Lots of antiques! I love that ship over there." He pointed toward one of Daniel Gregg's favorite models . . . a three-masted schooner in full sail. "I hope you have good insurance!"

"Danny!" Shirley moaned. "What a thing to say!"

"What?" her son answered. "It was a compliment!"

Shirley rolled her eyes and turned back to her hostess. "Are you sure we're no bother?" she asked. "I'm afraid we've descended on you like the proverbial band of gypsies! We'll try not to be too much trouble. If only the phone worked!"

"No phones tonight, I'm afraid!" Carolyn smiled. "And as I was telling your son, that would be only half the battle. You'd never get a mechanic out here at this time of night and in this weather, anyway. But don't worry! We'll find room for everyone. We've had unexpected guests before. This can't be helped . . ." Out of habit, she glanced at Captain Gregg's portrait over the mantle.

"So who's the groovy looking guy in the painting?" Laurie asked. "He's gorgeous. Is he your husband?"

At that, the Captain popped in, visible only to Carolyn, and preened.

Carolyn smiled. "He is at that, Laurie, but no . . . he's not my husband. That's the original builder and owner of Gull Cottage, Captain Daniel Alexander Gregg. He died just a little more than one hundred years ago."

"Oh . . ." Laurie looked more than a little disappointed.

"Hey! Daniel! That's my name too!" said Danny.

"Somehow I don't think I'll get the two of you mixed up," Laurie retorted. "Just look at those eyes! What a dreamy guy!"

"The young lady is very astute," said the Captain.

Carolyn ignored him, but inwardly, she couldn't help but think just that.

"So, if the Captain isn't your husband . . ." Laurie continued.

"Much to my regret . . ." the Captain said, sorrowfully.

"Is your husband here?" Chris asked, jumping into the conversation.

"Uhm, no . . ." Carolyn said, flushing at the Captain's comment. "I'm a widow."

"Oh," said Chris, wondering if he had put his foot in his mouth. "I'm sorry! But, hey . . . Mommy's a widow too! Guess you two have something in common."

Carolyn turned to look at Shirley who was still trying to hold her daughter with one hand and towel-dry her short, blonde hair with the other, and gave her an understanding smile and a sympathetic look. All those kids! she thought. Shirley smiled back, and the Captain popped out again . . . but Carolyn knew he was still somewhere in the immediate vicinity.

"So . . . " Danny asked. "Do you have any children?"

"Two," Carolyn answered. "Jonathan is eight, and Candy is ten. They're both in bed for the night. But you'll meet them tomorrow."

Martha came into the living room with a large tray covered with miscellaneous baked treats, pots of coffee, hot chocolate, a pitcher of water, and cups and saucers.

"Oh, wow! Thanks!" exclaimed the younger Partridge boys, and Laurie helped Martha by taking the pots and setting them on the coffee table, and then placing the food there also, and they all made a move for something to eat and drink. Keith thanked Martha, poured his mother a cup of coffee, delivering it to her on the couch, and then one for himself, took a grateful swallow and looked from his mother to Carolyn to Danny and Laurie and back again. "Drink up, Danny, Laurie, but don't get too comfortable," he stated.

"Why on earth not?" Laurie argued, more out of habit than anything.

"We have to go back to the bus," Keith said, with a certain amount of regret in his voice.

"The bus?" Laurie shook her head. "No way. My hair is just about dry, and I'm almost warmed up."

"Forget it," said Danny, giving his red head another rub. "It's cold out there. Are you a glutton for punishment, or what?"

"Keith?" His mother looked puzzled. "I must admit that I don't understand either. Why go back to the bus? It's late, I don't want to keep Mrs. Muir and Miss Grant up any later than I have to, and I'd like you all to get settled and get some sleep, too."

"We have to," Keith argued. "The instruments, Mom. The cold isn't good for them. We simply can't risk leaving them in the bus all night. Your keyboard might be okay, Laurie," he continued, looking at his sister, "but my guitar, Danny's bass, Chris's drums — they're sensitive to changes in climate."

"They're in cases . . ." Danny pointed out bleakly, moving closer to the fire.

"Doesn't matter," Keith said briefly. "You probably don't remember, because I taught you how to play, Danny, Chris . . . " He looked toward Shirley for support. "But my old friend, Tommy Laird warned me about this, ages ago. We've just never had to worry before because we've been doing more gigs where it's warm — nearer California, but extreme changes in temperature and humidity aren't good for the instruments. We have no idea how long we could be staying here, and that means we don't know how long our instruments will be out in the bus. We have to go get them." He gave his mother a "back me up, here" look. "Our instruments are our livelihood. We have to go."

"Instruments? You're musicians? Show people?" Carolyn asked, looking around nervously for the Captain. The spirit faded in quietly and stood to the left of his portrait. His eyebrows went up, but then he glanced quickly at Tracy, now asleep in her mother's arms, and then at the rest of the stranded family. He crossed his arms over his chest, said nothing, to Carolyn's relief, and continued to listen.

Shirley, as nervous about what her hostess might think about show folk as Carolyn was about the Captain, continued to downplay the group's celebrity status. "Uhh, well . . ." she answered. "We're just getting started. We've only been at it for a few months, actually . . . we're almost beginners, really . . . " Which was sort of true! She thought. We haven't been at it very long . . ."

"And you are really doing well at such a thing?" Martha asked.

Danny fidgeted, looking like he might pop any minute. He knew better than anyone did how well they were doing.

Shirley gave a little smile. "We're making progress. And I certainly like what we are doing now better than being a bank teller, which is what I ended up doing right after my husband died. Singing? It's a living, as they say. We all enjoy it, and I like being able to spend time with my children — something I couldn't do enough right after I was widowed."

Carolyn nodded, "I understand that! I'm a writer. Working at home gives me a whole different kind of freedom when it comes to being on call for my children."

The Captain rubbed his beard and turned to Carolyn. "I like the cut of this woman's jib, my dear," he said, thoughtfully. "Show folk or not, as far as I am concerned, they can stay. The little girl is sick, and it is late! I rather like this crew. They interest me. I admire their spunk . . . as I admire yours, dear lady." She threw him a grateful look. "Besides . . . " he added. "I'm not entirely against show people, you know. That young man, Tim Seagirt was nice enough . . . I allowed . . . made sure he stayed overnight, and, as I recall, Mr. Mason was a decent chap too. He and his dog . . . what was his name? Louie? Would have been welcome to stay also, had the need arisen."

Shirley, unaware of course, of the exchange between Carolyn and the spirit of Gull Cottage, glanced first at her sons and elder daughter and then at Carolyn. "Keith, I hate to keep Mrs. Muir and Miss Grant . . ."

"Carolyn . . ."

"Martha . . ."

"Carolyn and Martha awake . . ."

"Mom," Keith interrupted again. "I gotta insist on this. If it's a choice between the instruments and equipment staying warm, and me, I'd rather it be the . . ."

"That won't be necessary," Carolyn smiled again. "We'll find room for everything somewhere. We'll start with storing things in the . . . alcove." She paused for a moment, glancing at Daniel Gregg, who nodded his assent.

"Okay," Shirley sighed, looking down at her sleeping daughter and over at her almost-asleep son. "Give me a minute here, and I'll . . ."

"You'll stay here, Mom," Keith said firmly. "Laurie, Danny and I can handle the basics." He looked at his brother and sister. "Right, guys?"

"Right," Laurie said, giving the Captain's portrait another long look, and she looked around for her coat.

"Right," Danny agreed. "Guess those instruments are too important to take a chance with."

Within moments, Martha had retrieved their coats and mittens, and the three elder Partridges had set off out into the snow once more.

Carefully, Shirley Partridge rose, and placed Tracy on the couch, covering her with the afghan. She stretched. "Feels almost good to stand!" she laughed quietly, and reached her arms over her shoulders, trying to massage her own neck. "My, but I'm stiff . . . all that driving in the cold, I guess." She smiled apologetically at Carolyn. "Any chance of any more coffee? Don't go to any trouble on my account, though. I can do without, if need be."

"Why, no problem at all," Martha started to move toward the kitchen. Carolyn shot her housekeeper a quick look, and Martha stopped.

"That's okay, Martha," Carolyn said quickly. "I can get it. You . . . stay here and keep Mrs. Partridge . . ."

"Shirley."

"Shirley, company for a few minutes. I'll get the coffee." A thought struck her. "Why don't you give her one of your famous five-minute back-rubs? I'll bet she can use it after driving a bus in a snowstorm!"

Martha grinned. "Great idea, Mrs. Muir." She gave Shirley a short bow. "Madam . . . this way!" And she led her to a straight chair.

xxxxxxxx

"Captain? Captain, are you here?" Carolyn whispered as she poured the remainder of the coffee brewing on the stove into the china coffeepot.

"Present, my dear," the seaman responded, materializing into view. "I was watching Mrs. Partridges' three eldest, brave their way in the snow. Plucky souls they are, too. They're almost halfway to their vehicle. You probably should . . ."

"Captain . . ."

"Yes, my dear?"

"Captain . . ." Carolyn swallowed. "Daniel, thank you."

The spirit looked surprised. "For what? For allowing these stranded souls a safe haven during a storm? My dear, I could hardly do any less."

"I know . . ." She gave him a dazzling smile. "And really, I wouldn't expect any less of you either, but I also know how you feel about stowaways on board your . . . ship."

The seaman gave her a tender smile. "My ship, dear lady, yes, I suppose, and that is most kind of you to say, but more and more every day, I've realized that Gull Cottage is a home . . . my home and yours . . . the home I always thought it could be, but never quite was during my lifetime, but what you have made so after my life was no more. You'll never know much your presence here in Gull Cottage has meant to me this past two and a half years."

"Why . . . Daniel . . ." Carolyn's voice almost cracked. "What an incredibly sweet thing to say!"

Daniel Gregg blustered at her words, and her tender use of his Christian name. "How many times do I have to tell you that I am NOT now, and never have been, SWEET?" He looked uncomfortable.

"I know better, Daniel!" Carolyn smiled and turned back to the stove where she emptied the last of the cocoa into the other serving pot.

"I think I will go check on our guests, my dear." And with that, the seaman disappeared.

xxxxxxxx

"That looks so good!" Shirley eyed the two pots as Carolyn put them down on the coffee table and sat down in the easy chair next to the couch, facing her. Tracy was napping, and Chris was looking perky again, polishing off another piece of Martha's gingerbread, and reading a comic book Jonathan had left in the living room. Martha had excused herself to go tidy the kitchen after the late night kitchen raid.

"I adore coffee," Carolyn smiled, agreeably. "My mother can't understand how I can drink it and then drop off to sleep. It keeps her awake half the night if she drinks it past one in the afternoon."

"My father is the same way now!" Shirley grinned. "And he used to tease me about drinking it at such a young age. Kept threatening me that it would stunt my growth, or something. I stole my first cup from him when I was in eighth grade. Loaded it down with cream and sugar, of course, but I've loved it ever since!"

Carolyn gave Shirley a long look.

"I used to have a friend who bragged about drinking her father's coffee when he wasn't looking," she said thoughtfully.

Shirley smiled. "You never did that?"

"Sure," Carolyn frowned "But isn't it odd that . . . " She shook her head. "You know, it's strange, Mrs. Partridge . . ."

"It's Shirley, remember?"

"Shirley. At first I thought it was my imagination, but I have the oddest feeling that I know you . . ."

"Well . . ." Shirley stopped for a moment, not quite sure if she should continue, and wondered what this kind, quiet woman would say if she knew she was sheltering what Variety called "the biggest singing sensation since the Cowsills."

"Madam, are you all right?" the Captain asked, popping into the living room, and hovering (figuratively) near the back of Carolyn's chair.

"I'm fine," said Carolyn. Shirley gave Carolyn a puzzled look, and Carolyn nodded, distracted, half to the seaman and half to Shirley. "There's something . . . " she continued. "Just that . . . this may sound crazy, Shirley, but where are you from? I mean where do you live when you aren't visiting relatives, or . . ."

"California," Shirley answered, wondering what Carolyn was driving at. Did her hostess recognize her as the matriarch of The Partridge family after all? "San Pueblo, California."

"Oh." Carolyn answered, disappointed "Hmm. I've never been there . . . That can't be it. Have you ever lived anywhere else?"

"Oh, well, I grew up in Pennsylvania," she answered.

Carolyn perked up. "Really? Where in Pennsylvania?"

"Philadelphia."

"Well . . . Carolyn chewed her upper lip, thoughtfully. "Where did you go to grammar school and junior high?"

"Ben Franklin Elementary, and Thomas Jefferson, Junior High, in Philly. Then my parents moved to California, where I went to high school, and married my husband, Jack, right after. My parents moved back there, after Dad retired."

"T.J.?" Carolyn answered, excited. "In Philly? I went to school at T.J.! And you were there in 1950?"

"Y-yes . . ." Shirley answered, more puzzled.

"Shirley . . ." A strange look was coming over Carolyn Muir's face. "What was your maiden name?"

"Renfrew. Shirley Renfrew."

"Yikes! SHIRLEY!" Carolyn squealed, and gave the startled woman a hug. "It's ME! Carrie! Carolyn Williams!"

"Carrie?" Shirley stared at her, her mouth hanging open. "It . . . it CAN'T be!" And she looked at the woman across from her, closely.

A trace of tears swelled in Carolyn's eyes. "It is if your name is Shirley Louise Renfrew and you were best friends all through grade school and junior high with Carolyn Joanne Williams, in Philadelphia."

"I don't believe this . . ." Now. Shirley's eyes were filling with tears also, and the two enveloped each other in a big hug. Shirley wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled. "Ninth grade! That was SO LONG AGO...I can't believe I didn't recognize you! Well, I do know sort of — Your hair used to be halfway down your back!"

"Yours too!" Carolyn beamed back. "You always said you'd never get it cut!"

"You either!" Shirley grinned — "You know, I'm sure I still have a picture of you around somewhere . . ."

"It's been what?" Carolyn asked. "Twenty years?"

"Uhm . . ." Shirley hedged. ". . . Well, yes, I guess so! Oh, my! Twenty years!" And she embraced her long-lost friend once more. Martha came back into the room, hearing the excited sounds of her employer and her guest.

"What's up?" She asked, looking back and forth between Carolyn and Shirley. "What's going on?"

Captain Gregg turned his handsome face from one blonde to the other and back again, finally resting on Carolyn's face. "You know this woman?" he asked, "You're . . . friends? Old acquaintances?"

"We just figured it out!" Carolyn explained, looking at both Captain Gregg and Martha at the same time, "Shirley is Shirley Renfrew . . . a very old friend of mine from Philadelphia."

Shirley laughed. "VERY old? I'm not sure I like the sound of that! Oh my, Carrie! I can't believe this! Wait until we tell the kids!"

"Well . . ." The Captain tugged his ear thoughtfully. "This is certainly an interesting development!"

"Tell us what?" Keith asked, entering the room, followed by his brother and sister. Their hands were full of instrument cases — guitars, drums, Laurie's keyboard, two small speakers, and everyone's sleeping bags. "What's the joke?" Quickly, the three carried the instruments and equipment into the alcove and dropped the rolled sleeping bags in front of the fireplace.

"You're not going to believe this," Shirley grinned. "We know each other! Carrie . . . Mrs. Muir and I went to school together!"

"You're kidding," Keith answered, nonplused. "No way, Mom. This sort of thing only happens on old TV shows."

"Mommy?" A sleepy voice came from the entryway of the living room. "What's going on?"

"Jonathan!" Carolyn scolded, and ran over to get her son. "You shouldn't be out of bed!"

"I know," Jonathan let out a huge yawn. "But I heard noises, and wanted to know what was happening. Who are all these people, Mom?"

"Jonathan . . ." Carolyn looked down. "You shouldn't be down here in your bare feet!"

"I don't wear my shoes to bed," Jonathan said sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Are we going to have a party?" he asked, looking at Shirley.

"No dear, you just get lots of company!" said Carolyn, giving her son a squeeze. "Jonathan, this is Mrs. Partridge." Quickly, she introduced the rest of the visiting family. "The Partridges are stuck here because of the snowstorm. They're going to be spending tonight here, at least."

"Hi, Jonathan," Shirley said softly. "We're sorry if we woke you up."

"That's okay," he answered. "Can your kids spend the night with me? Can they share my room? It's a new room," Jonathan said helpfully. "I mean, new to me. I used to share one with my sister, but we have our own rooms now. She kept the room we had, and I got the spare bedroom for my very own."

Danny and Chris turned to their mother. "Is that okay, Mom? We have our sleeping bags."

"I think that's very okay," Shirley smiled. "Thank-you, Jonathan."

"Cool," Jonathan said, and he looked at his mother again. "Want me to go wake up Candy so we can use her room, too?"

"No," Carolyn answered, and Shirley shook her head, agreeing.

"Don't wake up your daughter, Carolyn. We can manage."

"I would say I'm surprised she's still asleep, but I'm really not! Candy can sleep through anything and everything once she's out for the night," Carolyn laughed.

"I know . . . Laurie started doing that at ten too. She can sleep through almost anything!"

"Mom, please!" Laurie protested.

"It's true," commented Keith. "Nothing wakes you up."

"Please, don't think of disturbing Candy at this hour," Shirley continued. "We'll all manage."

"Madam," the Captain interjected. "The two younger boys could spend the night with Jonathan. They have their bedrolls, and there's room, and the room is quite warm . . ."

"Tell you what . . ." Carolyn glanced around the living room. "How about, Danny and Chris spend the night with Jonathan, Keith, you take the roll-away . . . we can put that in the alcove . . . We'll have to get it down from the attic, of course . . . it will be cramped with the instruments, but . . ."

Martha returned from the alcove. "Roll-away is already IN the alcove, Mrs. Muir!" She gave her employer a subtle wink.

"Thank-you!" Carolyn spoke to Martha, but looked at the seaman, who was now standing invisibly behind the housekeeper. "You're wonderful. Laurie, if it's okay, can you take the couch?"

Laurie nodded and yawned. "Sounds groovy."

Carolyn turned to her old friend. "That leaves you and me sharing the bed in the master bedroom, bunkie. Think you and I could manage in my room with Tracy? I can set up a little cot for her."

"This will be like old times," Shirley beamed. "Remember all those slumber parties we used to have? We must have driven our parents nuts!"

"I remember!" Carolyn nodded. "Seems like I was at your house or you were at mine almost every weekend! And now Candy is doing the same thing to me!"

"I remember Laurie wanted one every weekend at that age," Shirley agreed. "And now Tracy is making the same noises, and she's only five!"

"Mom, I'm ready to call it a night," Danny yawned.

"Me too," Jonathan mumbled and looked his mother, his eyes half closed.

"Me three," added Chris. "Jonathan, do you have more comic books I can read?"

"Tomorrow, love." Shirley smiled and gave her son's head an affectionate tousle. "You have plenty of time tomorrow."

"C'mon, guys." Jonathan yawned again. "This way . . ."

"Do you like baseball, Jonathan?" Chris asked, picking up his sleeping bag and following his host. Together, the three boys headed for the stairs.

"I'm gone too," Keith nodded. He grabbed his sleeping bag. "Night, all. Thanks again, Mrs. Muir." And he headed for the alcove entrance.

"Goodnight . . ." Martha said, as she watched the boys leave.

"Positive you'll be all right on the couch, Laurie?" Carolyn asked.

"Sure," Laurie nodded. "But I'm so tired, I think I'll sleep in my clothes tonight and change in the morning! Don't worry about me, Mrs. Muir," she continued. "I know I'll have sweet dreams with Captain Gregg standing watch!"

Carolyn and the Captain started, and Carolyn looked at the seaman out of the corner of her eye. "The . . . Captain?" Carolyn asked, carefully.

"You know . . ." Laurie answered, looking toward the mantle. "His portrait guarding the place! I know I'll have great dreams with HIM watching over us!" She sighed. "Goodnight, Mom." She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Night, Mrs. Muir!" and Laurie made her way to the couch and started unrolling her sleeping bag.

The Captain smiled and looked pleased with himself. "This is really a very NICE group of people, Mrs. Muir!"

"I know a seaman whose ego is going to need a room of its own, if this keeps up," Martha muttered as she made her way to her room, but Carolyn, Shirley, and the Captain heard her laughing as she went down the hall.

"What did she mean by that?" Shirley asked, bewildered.

"Martha's uhm . . . humor can be a bit sarcastic, sometimes," Carolyn answered, hurriedly. "She's not that fond of the Captain's portrait."

"But she DOES approve of ME now," Daniel Gregg interjected, just before he disappeared.

"Well, shall we?" Carolyn asked.

"Definitely," Shirley nodded, picking up her daughter and following Carolyn to the stairs. "I need to see if I can get a couple of baby aspirin in Tracy, and . . . do you by any chance have some Vick's Vapor Rub?"

"Of course!" Carolyn grinned. "It's standard equipment . . . like peanut butter."

"Think the snow will stop by morning, Carrie?" Shirley asked.

"Hard to say," her friend shrugged. "But regardless of whether it does or not, I'm looking forward to at least one long day with you, and a BUNCH of catching up!"

December 23, 1970 - Wednesday

In spite of the late night for the Gull Cottage household and its visitors the evening before, Keith Partridge woke at approximately seven-forty five — long before anyone else, even Martha. Keith was, by nature, an early riser at home, and even more so when he was touring, regardless how comfortable the accommodations were. The roll-away Carolyn Muir had provided had been adequate, and he had fallen asleep almost immediately, but that morning, his inner-alarm clock went off — pushing him into consciousness at an sooner than expected hour on what was definitely a COLD morning!

Quietly, he pulled on fresh clothes; donning a heavy sweater, two pairs of socks and his now-dry tennis shoes, and made his way through the living room, walking slowly and quietly as to not wake Laurie, still slumbering soundly, covers over her head, on the living room couch, or Martha Grant, asleep in her room down the hall.

Silently he moved aside the curtains in front of the bay window a bit and peered out. At least a foot and a half of snow had come in the night. He could see drifts in the yard going in waves along the stone fence, in some areas looking as high as high as three feet — and it was still snowing! Not as hard as last night, but definitely still snowing.

Is this all it does in Maine? Snow? he wondered. Keith took a deep breath — letting it out slowly. As much as he hated the idea, as 'man of the family,' it was up to him to go check things out, and find out for sure what the deal was with the bus. I could have been wrong last night . . . he reasoned. It was dark, we were cold and Tracy wasn't feeling well. Maybe the undercarriage just scraped a rock or something. Could be the axle isn't broken.

Carefully he made his way down the hall to the bathroom, where he grabbed his coat, hat and gloves, and then back out to the foyer, where he quietly opened the front door, stepped outside into the cold, and, making sure that the door was unlocked, closed it behind him and started toward the bus.

Within a half an hour, Keith was back, inside the house, sneakers removed and drying in the foyer, and he headed toward the kitchen.

"Big waste of time," he muttered. "I go out in the cold, slogging through this mess for almost a half an hour, and all I get is two blocks away, aching feet and wet shoes . . . again!" His thoughts continued. The bus is another two blocks away from where I stopped, at least, and there's no sign of the trail we broke last night. It's been totally covered! I'm going nowhere until it stops snowing! Boy! Am I glad we went back and got the instruments . . . I hope the amps will be okay . . . wonder how much longer this will keep up? It doesn't look like it's falling quite as heavily as it was last night, but those drifts! He shivered. "Coffee, that's what I need," he said out loud, rubbing his hands together.

Looking around, he found the pot on the back of the stove, the coffee in the refrigerator and, making as little noise as possible, he started a pot brewing. Lifting the phone receiver in the kitchen, jiggling the cradle a few times, and seeing the line was still dead, he replaced it and reached for a small newspaper laying on the kitchen table that said SCHOONER BAY BEACON in a typeface big enough to announce the next moon landing. He sat down to read, anticipating his first cup of coffee, and wait for his family and his hosts to wake and start a new day.

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Candy Muir opened one eye and then the other, and moaned. "Too early to get up," she muttered. "I'm on vacation. Not fair. Why did I wake up? No school, I'm not going anywhere today." Resolutely, she pulled the blanket over her head — for about one minute. No use. She was awake and there was no sense even trying to go back to sleep. She pulled the covers down again and looked at the clock. Eight a.m. She glared at the timepiece for a moment, and then, with a yawn, grabbed the bathrobe from the end of her bed. Hey . . . Maybe I can get the mini Frisbee out of the Fruit Loops box. Jonathan grabbed it last time! And with that thought in her mind, she slid her feet into her slippers and made her way downstairs, yawning as she went. Scruffy, who had slept in the bedroom with her the night before, followed, looking up at her expectantly. Candy shivered and hoped that the little dog just wanted his breakfast. It had been snowing when she and Jonathan had gone to bed the night before, and the last thing she was looking forward to was letting the dog out.

As she hit the kitchen entryway, the smell of freshly brewed coffee caressed her nostrils. "Morning, Martha," she said, speaking but only half-looking at the figure sitting at the kitchen table, the SBB held in front of their face. She yawned again. "What's for breakfast?"

"Only coffee, at the moment," Keith Partridge said, lowering the newspaper and giving the little girl in front of him a friendly look. "I thought I better wait until everyone else wakes up before I raided the refrigerator." He gave her a million-dollar smile. "Hi there! I heard about you from your mom last night, after we got stranded here. You're Candy, right? Nice to meet you, I'm . . ."

"You're . . . you're . . ." Candy stammered, her eyes growing bigger by the minute.

Keith smiled again, stood, and held out his hand.

"I'm Keith Pa . . ."

"You're Keith . . . PARTRIDGE!" "Mommymommymommymommy!" Candy screamed a tin-whistle scream, which in turn set of a stream of barks from Scruffy, waking the entire household.

Keith winced.

Martha arrived first, and gave Candy, who was now jumping up and down, her hands over her mouth, a perplexed look. "What's up?" she asked. "Keith, did you startle her?" She turned to the little dog, still yapping and now running circles around the 'intruder' in the kitchen. "Quiet, Scruffy, or you go down in the cellar." Instantly, the little dog stopped barking and hid under the kitchen table.

"I guess so," Keith mumbled. "I get that reaction sometimes . . ."

"Candy!" Carolyn called to her daughter from the doorway, and ran into the room, trying to get her excited child's attention. "Sweetie, what's the matter?"

"Keith!" Shirley Partridge entered immediately after. "What on earth . . .? What's going on?"

"I just said, hello," Keith gave his mother a wan smile. "She thought I was Miss Grant, there for a sec. She couldn't see my face behind the paper, I guess. I don't think she really expected to find me in the kitchen."

"Blast it, Madam! What is going on here?" The Captain materialized into view, visible only to Martha and the Muirs. "Who . . . Why has Candy sent up the distress signals?" He gave Keith a dark look. "Has this lad done something . . .?" His voice broke off as Laurie, Danny, Jonathan, Chris, and finally Tracy appeared in the doorway, and made their way into the kitchen. "Madam, just give the word and I'll keel . . ."

"Wait a moment," Carolyn said to the Captain out of the corner of her mouth, "Candy's okay . . ." Gently, she touched her daughter on the shoulders. "Candy, honey, what is it? What's the matter?"

Danny gave a nod and rolled his eyes. "Aw, she's just star-struck, that's all. I see it all the time."

Shirley gave Carolyn an apologetic look. "Guess I should have finished telling you last night, Carrie . . . I just forgot, in all the excitement. I was so happy to find you, and . . . Actually, we're . . ."

Slowly, Candy's focused from the teenage boy to the other visitors now occupying the kitchen, and on her face was a look of awe, recognition and amazement. Finally, she found her voice. "You're the PARTRIDGE FAMILY . . . " she whispered. "You are, aren't you? Oh, wow . . ."

"Candy, honey," Carolyn interrupted. "This is my old school friend, Shirley Renfrew . . . Partridge, I mean. She and her family were stranded in the storm last night. They showed up after you were in bed. They will be staying here until the roads clear and they can get their bus fixed."

"Candy, dear, what about some nice breakfast?" Martha asked, trying to bring in a sense of norm to the proceedings, and Candy nodded, dumbly.

"And these are her children," Carolyn continued, at which point, the Partridges waved at Candy. "Ke . . ."

"Keith, Laurie, Danny, Chris and Tracy," Candy interrupted, pointing to the visitors in turn. She looked around. "Where's your dog? Where's Simone?"

Shirley smiled. "With my parents, in Philly."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Candy frowned, and then glanced at the terrier, still under the table. "Scruffy'd have someone to play with."

"Madam, how does she know who all these people are?" the Captain asked, puzzled. "She was asl . . ."

"Honey?" Carolyn asked, bewildered.

Candy rolled her eyes, impatiently, no longer at a loss for words. "Mother . . ." she said, enunciating the word, "this is the PARTRIDGE family!"

"I know, sweetie. My friend, Shirley, and her family."

"No, Mom!" Candy sighed, broke loose from her mother and ran out of the room.

"I don't understand any of this, Shirley," Carolyn started. "I'm sorry. Candy has never . . ."

Shirley couldn't help it. She giggled. "I do, Carrie!"

Then, as quickly as she left the kitchen, Candy was back. "See?" she said, handing her mother a record album with a dark red cover — the one her grandparents had sent for her birthday, only the month before. She pointed to the front, where it said in golden letters:

The Partridge Family

Carolyn turned to the group in her kitchen — the message was finally sinking in. "You . . . you're THAT Partridge Family?" Carolyn stuttered, "The ones with that single that Candy plays interminably . . . that is, the one Candy likes so much?"

"Afraid so, Carrie!" Shirley Partridge grinned, embarrassed, and then gave a little shrug. "As I was falling asleep last night, I realized you really didn't know WHO we were, just that we were entertainers, but I was so happy seeing you again and knowing that everyone was safe and warm for the night, and I was so comfortable, and tired, I just . . . dropped off first!" She looked at her old friend, apologetically. "You don't have anything against show-business people, do you? Some people do, you know. They get these misconceptions . . ."

"Yes, I DO know," Carolyn glanced at the Captain for a split second, and then nodded. "But I don't feel that way, and neither does anyone else here, I think."

Shirley turned and peered out the kitchen window. "From the looks of things out there, I don't think we could leave if we wanted to. You really don't . . . mind us still staying here, do you?"

"Think of what it will do for your reputation, Mrs. Muir," Danny piped up.

"Reputation? What reputation?" Keith asked, turning to his brother.

"As a benefactor of mankind, doing her part for her town, the community!" Danny said. "After we leave, you can put a big sign in your window, saying 'The Partridges Slept Here!' You could even sell tickets to the . . ."

"Danny!" Shirley looked appalled.

"Over my dead . . . that is, not on . . . Claymore's life," said the Captain.

Carolyn turned to look at the seaman, now standing next to Martha in front of the kitchen sink, and then at Jonathan and Candy.

"Please, Mom?" Jonathan begged, "Chris hasn't nearly finished telling me about California, and he wants to learn about knots, and he plays baseball, too! We were talking about it last night."

"Shh . . ." Chris nudged him.

"You were supposed to go straight to sleep last night," Carolyn murmured, distracted. "It's all right?" she asked, looking at the seaman and Martha at the same time.

The ghost of Gull Cottage shrugged. "My dear, I told you last night, I like this crew. It's up to you, naturally, but they are quite welcome to stay, as far as I am concerned, and for as long as is necessary. I bow to your needs and wishes . . . and theirs, in this matter."

Martha, taking her cue at Carolyn's 'doublespeak,' winked sideways toward the Captain.

"You're asking me, Mrs. Muir?" Martha shifted her gaze more toward Carolyn. "Oh, in terms of the housework, and all! No problems, here! All I ask is a little help with the dishes, and other chores around here, once in a while."

Carolyn smiled. "No one is going anywhere," she said, firmly.

"We'd be glad to pitch in wherever we can, Miss Grant," Keith interjected, "Just let us know when and where, and we're there!" He gave her a mock salute, and his siblings followed suit.

"Well, you can all start . . ." Martha said, looking around the room, " . . . by calling me Martha, please! I don't care for Miss Grant much, although I commend you for your fine manners." She glanced at Shirley. "But all MISS does, is remind me I'm not married . . . YET!"

The group laughed, everyone feeling a bit more at ease.

"And I'm Carolyn, by the way, all of you!" Carolyn added. "Or Aunt Carolyn, if you prefer."

"And make that Aunt Shirley for me," Shirley said, looking at Candy and Jonathan. Shirley felt a tug on her robe. Looking down, startled, she saw a very red-faced Tracy's brown eyes staring solemnly back. In all the excitement, they had forgotten about her!

"Mommy?" Tracy looked up at them, and then wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm hot. Can I get something to drink, please?"

Shirley Partridge looked at her daughter and then at Carolyn, concerned. "Hot? I was just going to tell her that the floor was cold and to get her slippers on! Honey . . ." She reached down to pick up her child, balancing her in one arm, and feeling her forehead with the other. "Carolyn, she's still really warm. We need to tuck her back in bed and start feeding her fluids. Trace has had these bouts before. She'll run a fever for a couple of days; get congested . . . Doctor Griffith thinks it's a viral thing she's prone to. He prescribed penicillin the last time this happened. Is the pho . . ."

Keith shook his head. "Sorry, Mom. I looked this morning, first thing. No dial tone, no operator. Phones are still out. I'll keep checking, though."

Carolyn grimaced. "One of the few things I do NOT like about a more rural life!" She reached over and felt Tracy's forehead also. "My word, honey, you ARE hot!" And she turned to her housekeeper. "Martha, how are we doing on children's aspirin?"

"I'll have to check, Mrs. Muir," Martha nodded. "It seems to me that I thought we could use some more, but we're not quite out yet."

"She still looks congested, too," Shirley added. "Sweetheart — " She held Tracy closer, and moved toward the door. "Honey, let's get you back upstairs again." And, turning to Carolyn, she added: "I don't think what she has is communicable, at least not so far, but there's no sense taking chances."

"I'll get breakfast started," Martha said in a capable tone. "I'll have toast and ginger-ale up there in a few minutes, Mrs. Partridge."

"It's Shirley, remember?" Shirley protested, but Martha shook her head.

"I feel more comfortable with 'Mrs. Partridge' . . . especially with you being a STAR, and all!"

"That must make me a star too, since I'm 'Mrs. Muir'!" Carolyn grinned.

"YOU'RE a writer!" Martha gave her a look.

Carolyn laughed. "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"

Shirley and Carolyn headed for the stairs, and Martha turned to the miscellaneous children still milling about in the kitchen. "Candy? Jonathan? Upstairs with you both. Get dressed, and don't forget socks and shoes! Laurie . . ." She glanced at the fifteen-year-old, still clad in her clothes from the night before. "Go ahead and change, and then see if your mom needs anything. Keith, you're dressed. How about getting that dozen eggs out of the refrigerator and start breaking them into this bowl?" She reached into the cupboard above the stove and handed him one. "Chris, Danny, you too — get dressed and report back here. I'm sure I can find something for you to do. Setting the table, for openers."

"Yes Ma'am!" The Muir's and the Partridges saluted, and went to work.

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Shirley and Carolyn spent the next twenty minutes or so getting Tracy situated. Carolyn put fresh sheets on the bed, maintaining when she was sick that fresh sheets made her feel better, and, without too much fuss, Tracy had submitted to a sponge bath to remove the old application of Vick's, and a light alcohol rub to help cool her down, and then a fresh application of the gooey Vapor Rub to her chest, but the child was still hot and uncomfortable.

"Come on, sweetheart!" Shirley said. "Time to get into your nightshirt and back into bed! Wasn't it nice for Carolyn to let you have this big bed all to yourself?"

"Don't want to go to bed," Tracy fussed. "I'm not sleepy!" she sniffed. "And I'm still thirsty, and everyone else gets to stay downstairs and have fun."

Shirley drew the child onto her lap. "Come on, lovey," she cooed. "You just took some more aspirin and it will make you sleepy in no time. Now listen, honey. Rest will make you feel better. You know that."

"It's too light outside to go to sleep!" Tracy protested, and she pointed toward the windows.

"I'll close the drapes," Carolyn replied, and quickly she went to the French windows — drawing the curtains and shutting the room off from the glare of the sunlight and still-falling snow. She was still standing there when the Captain materialized.

"How's the little one doing?" he asked. "Poor child! To be sick in a strange place! And so near Christmas, too!"

"Okay, sweetheart," said Shirley. "Now, into bed. Would you like another little bit of ginger-ale? Come on . . ." The child was still stubbornly seated on Shirley's lap, but then she glanced toward the windows again.

"Who's that?" Tracy asked, pointing directly at Captain Gregg, now standing next to Carolyn.

"That's Aunt Carolyn, honey," said Shirley. "Remember? You met her last night."

"No," said Tracy. "I mean the man."

Shirley turned to Carolyn, of course not seeing the seaman. "The man?" Shirley asked, confused.

"Yeah, Mom. The man with the beard. Hi . . ." Tracy smiled shyly, waved at Captain Gregg, and turned back to her puzzled mother, and hugged her again — whispering in her ear: "I thought we met everybody last night."

"There's no man, Tracy . . ." her mother said, puzzled.

"Captain . . ." Carolyn whispered.

"I know, Madam," said the Captain. "The little one can see me! But I'll be blasted if I know why! I must look into this immediately." And the seaman disappeared.

"He's gone now," said Tracy, and she finally crawled under the covers on her own accord — the aspirin starting to take effect. "Maybe he'll come back, Mommy, and you can see him. He looks nice." She yawned, and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

"If THIS keeps up, I'll take her temperature again," said Shirley with a sigh. "Tracy is known for spiking fevers when she's sick, and she's talked in her sleep — even sleepwalked, but I've never seen her hallucinate before! How odd!"

"Well, she's asleep now," said Carolyn, hurriedly. "We shouldn't talk here. We might wake her up again. Let's go downstairs and get some breakfast, shall we?"

"I suppose!" Shirley Partridge said, wrinkling her forehead. "Still, it's strange . . ."

"Shirley . . ." Carolyn urged. "There's a cup of coffee down there with your name on it."

"Well . . ." Shirley wavered, looking at her sound asleep child and then at her old friend.

"Come on," Carolyn answered, taking her friend's arm, and guiding her toward the door. "We'll leave the door a little bit open. We can hear Tracy call if she wakes up and needs anything, and everyone else will keep an ear out too."

"I guess that will be all right," Shirley smiled.

"Of course it will!" Carolyn grinned back. "Besides, Shirl, I've been patient, but you have simply GOT to tell me how my best girlfriend of fifteen of my very formative years ended up touring the country in a rock band! Anyone else in your respectable past know about your wild life?"

"Wild life!" Shirley covered a soft snort of laughter, and glanced again at her sleeping daughter. "One old school bus, five children, and dog, driving all over the country, and singing! Right! I'm right up there with Mick Jagger!"

The two old friends giggled, and headed for the kitchen.

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Carolyn Muir sat quietly at the kitchen table and watched her two children interact with the Partridge clan as everyone finished their breakfast. The kitchen was crowded, but it was a nice kind of crowded. Since there wasn't enough seating room at the table for all nine people, Keith, Laurie and Martha stood around the kitchen island eating, and Danny, Candy, Jonathan and Chris sat at the table with Shirley and Carolyn. With an extra table leaf added, there was just enough room for the whole noisy bunch.

Martha had made enough pancakes, she said "to stuff an elephant," and both the Partridges and the Muirs loved them. Scruffy, delighted with all the company, and was begging as much as he was allowed, and had seemed to find a special friend in Chris, who seemed to know all his favorite tummy rub spots. Candy, Carolyn noticed, kept staring at Keith, but so far she hadn't said a word to the young man since informing her mother who the stranded family actually was. She seemed communicative enough with the other Partridges, and Carolyn decided not to push — given the course of actions Candy had followed with Mark Helmore, it was really only a matter of time before Candy would relax, or lose interest in the boy. Jonathan, she was happy to see, was singularly unimpressed with this famous bunch — even though Carolyn had heard Candy try earlier to impress on her younger sibling who the group was, and why he should be awed by them.

"I know, they sing," he had responded, "I've heard you play their record often enough, and they're nice, and I really like Chris and Danny, and I'll share my toys with them, but if someone famous was going to get stuck here, I wish it could have been Joe DiMaggio, or someone really good." That remark had earned him a shot in the arm from his sister, and, rolling her eyes, she had gone back upstairs, coming down, Carolyn thought, dressed just a little more carefully than usual, considering it was a vacation day, and no school. After breakfast, Chris and Jonathan excused themselves, taking Scruffy with them, and Martha had started washing the dishes with Laurie and Candy helping.

"Okay now, Shirl," Carolyn asked. "Now that I have been properly 'educated' by my daughter as to who you are, how would YOU like to tell me how you ended up, of all things, in show business?"

"I'd like to know that, too!" Martha grinned. "I thought working for a writer was interesting — especially here in Gull Cottage," she snickered. "I can't imagine doing what you all do!"

"I too, am interested, dear lady!" Daniel Gregg materialized, and stood in the corner of the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind if I sit in on this discussion as well." Carolyn glanced at him. "Don't worry, my dear," he added. "At the moment you are the only one who can see or hear me." Carolyn gave a slight nod, surprised at the Captain's continued interest in "show people."

Shirley grinned, looking at her three elder children for support. "I blame my children," she said flatly.

"Blame? Mom!" Danny protested. "You told us you liked show business now, and face it, it is an exciting way to make a living."

"There are moments in the last six months I think I have had a little TOO much excitement!" Shirley smiled, and looked at Carolyn with laughing eyes.

"I think it would be fun," Candy commented shyly from where she was helping Martha and Laurie with the breakfast dishes. "I'm learning how to play the tambourine," she added to no one in particular.

"Aw, come on, Mom!" Keith protested. "You said you hardly ever have stage fright any more."

"I didn't say I don't have it, I said I know how to deal with it, Keith." Shirley sighed and turned back to Carolyn. "It was more of an accident, really, Carrie. I never meant to be a singer — not professionally anyway! I guess it was sometime in September. I was busy paying bills, and received a message from the girl singer of the music group the kids had formed — they've been playing together since they were old enough to hold an instrument — usually donated by my ever-lovin' parents!"

"Fred and Amanda, right?" Carolyn asked. "How in the world are they?"

"They just settled back in Philly after coming back from a trip around the world. Dad retired a few months ago," Shirley answered. "I can't wait to tell them how I found you again. Anyway, to get back to my story, Rabbi Steinman, the father of Gloria, the lead singer of the kid's group, called to say Gloria had the mumps and couldn't make it over that afternoon. I went to the garage where the kids were practicing and told them, and they were devastated — they had borrowed some equipment from the school to make a recording of the group, and the equipment HAD to be back the next day. The kids insisted that they had to have a soprano, and Danny got it in head that I should do it. I told them I couldn't, but Laurie gave me the final push. What can I say? It turned out well."

"More than well, Mom," said Danny. "Remember how I tracked down Mr. Kinkaid? And once he heard us . . ."

"Danny, it wasn't quite like that!" Shirley protested. "As I recall, you practically rammed us down his throat!"

"Danny chased Reuben into the MEN'S room at the airport trying to get him to listen to our demo," said Laurie. "Nervy, huh?"

"You never would have thought of it," Danny commented, briefly. "Let alone go into the . . ."

"I would, too," Laurie retorted, "now that you mention it. I'm a liberated woman, and . . ."

Daniel Gregg roared with laughter. "Now THAT's something I would give a sovereign to see!"

"Laurie, Danny, stop!" Shirley said, admonishing her offspring. "Anyway, Carrie, virtually the next thing we knew, the song was in the top forty and we were headed to Vegas as the opening act at Caesars Palace! Johnny Cash introduced us, and . . ." She trailed off, embarrassed.

"We were all scared witless!" said Keith, picking up the story. "Mom was fine, but we couldn't sing at all . . . All five of us froze — Mom wound up talking to us like a hypnotist, kind of, brought us back to thinking we were singing in the garage again, and we all started singing, and well — "

"We brought down the house," said Danny.

"I wouldn't go that far!" Shirley argued. "I think they were relieved that the five of you had stopped playing human statues. But our song . . ."

"Let The Good Times In," said Candy, quietly.

"That's right," Shirley smiled at Candy. " . . . Was still in the top forty, and suddenly we were in demand all over the country, and everything sort of mushroomed from there, and with my husband gone, it did seem like a good way to make a decent living, and we get to do it together."

"Sounds like quite a mammoth undertaking, my dear!" the Captain said quietly from where he was standing. "This crew has spunk! I am quite looking forward to hearing them play."

"The family that plays together, stays together. That's our motto!" said Keith, giving Candy a friendly wink. "Did you say you play an instrument, Candy?"

"The tambourine . . ." Candy mumbled. "A little. My mom gave me a set for my birthday, November ninth. I've been practicing to your songs."

"I'd love to hear you play sometime," he said, giving her another warm smile. Candy blushed furiously.

"I'm not sure why your singing for a living should surprise me, Shirley." Carolyn said, a far away look in her eyes. "I remember you singing for our ninth grade graduation . . . that song from Carousel . . . remember? Your mother bought you the Broadway album and we used to play that as often as we'd play Patti Page and Paul Anka.

"No — actually, I had forgotten!" Shirley beamed. "You remember everything, Carrie! I know the song, of course, but I forgot all about singing it at graduation. What I remember most about that summer was moving and losing you as my best friend."

There was a moment of quiet and then Laurie blurted out: "Mom, why did you tell us you were tone deaf?"

"You always WERE modest about your talents, Shirl," Carolyn commented. "You were the same way in school, too."

"Not modest," Shirley protested, "I just never thought of myself as that good — certainly I never considered the idea of singing as a career. I wanted to grow up and get married and have a family, and that's what I did."

"Mom! Sing just a little of it!" Laurie begged.

"Yeah, Mom," Danny wheedled. "It's not like you're doing it on stage for anyone expecting the Partridge Family, or anything."

"Come on, Mom," Keith added. "We won't tell Reuben on you."

"Okay! Okay!" Shirley smiled. "But you'll probably think it's old fashioned, and remember, I'm no Dinah Shore!" She took a deep breath and began to let the inspirational, hopeful words of You'll Never Walk Alone flow from her lips.

As the song ended, Martha wiped away a tear, those sitting around the table started applauding madly, and Carolyn reached over and gave her friend a hug. "Thank you, Shirley," she sniffed. "I adore that song, even if it does make me cry."

"That was great, Mom," Keith added. "I'm going to have to start writing more solo parts for you."

"You didn't know your mom could sing quite like that, did you?" Carolyn grinned.

"I knew she could sing, I just didn't know that she could . . . SING," said Laurie. "I mean, not that way! That song takes almost a double range!"

"Real cool, Mom," said Danny.

"Beautiful," said the seaman. "Truly marvelous. But I must say, my dear, I cannot remember Candy playing any song that comes close to sounding like that."

"If the rest of your songs sound as good as that one, I may have to consider buying a copy of your album, myself," said Martha. "More coffee, anyone?" she asked, bringing the pot over to the table.

"Yes, please," both Carolyn and Shirley answered, and Keith held up his cup also. Carolyn watched her daughter's disappointed look — obviously she was hoping to do the coffee pouring for her idol — and silently, Carolyn wondered if they were in for a new siege of puppy love after all.

"Save some for me, Keith," Laurie commented. "Don't be a hog. And don't forget, you and Danny get to do the lunch dishes, since Candy and I did breakfast."

"Right . . . Right" Keith agreed. "But we need to get back to the bus, now that it's daylight and see what's up there, too, and get the rest of our equipment."

Keith Partridge has to do dishes? Candy wondered silently to herself. Wow . . .

"I don't suppose the phones are working yet, Martha?" Shirley asked, hopefully

Martha shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid not. I've been checking every half-hour. It's the blasted . . . It's the snow. It happens at least once every winter, and this is it."

"I'm keeping my fingers crossed, Shirl," Carolyn said. "Last time we had no phones for more than two and a half days."

"Darn it," Shirley said. "I was really hoping I could call our family doctor — he could call in the prescription for Tracy — she's had this thing before. That, and I need to get a hold of my folks, they're expecting us."

"And Reuben," Danny chimed in.

"Why?" Laurie asked. "He's in Arizona, visiting his mom."

"I realize that, but he's our manager, and I think he ought to know," Danny answered.

"You're probably right," Laurie shrugged, "Even if there's not much he can do from there."

"No, but there's a lot we can do here," Keith said, standing. "Laurie, Danny, let's make a stab at getting back to the bus — and we can help Mrs. Muir get the front walk cleared."

"It's still snowing," Laurie objected.

"There's only one snow shovel, and three of us," Danny argued.

"We still need to at least TRY to clear the walks, and we can learn to share," he argued back. "Now come on."

"Keith is a good lad," the seaman commented. "Quite a commendable attitude! I'm really getting to like these show-business types more and more!"

"Candy, sweetie, why don't you go help Martha with the laundry?" Carolyn asked, watching her daughter watch Keith.

Candy sighed. "Okay, Mom." Sadly she looked at the three older Partridges, who were heading toward the door. Suddenly, shoveling snow seemed like a great way to pass the time.

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"Okay, that is definitely one broken axle." Keith shivered and looked around the table where Carolyn, Laurie, Danny, Martha, and Candy were seated. "I thought maybe I might be wrong, but I'm not. It will most definitely take a tow truck to get us out of there, and heaven only knows when that will happen because the drifts are up past the top of the bus's wheel wells." He clutched his coffee cup, warming his hands, and nodded toward the entryway. "We did get the last of the music equipment back here, though, and just for luck, I started the bus and let it run for a little while. The engine is fine — we even have a half a tank of gas left. We just can't go anywhere."

"We got the rest of our clothes and the speaker cords and things, too," Danny offered. "Everything's inside, now."

"We didn't do a very good job shoveling, though." Laurie ran her hands through her hair. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. . . . Carolyn, but shoveling is not nearly as easy as I thought it would be."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "It looks so basic on television — you know, you see the snow, and in the next scene the walks are all shoveled, and dry even. Come to think of it, you can't even tell where the snow from the walk went! On TV the yard area always looks perfect."

"The magic of television," Martha grinned. "I imagine you all haven't seen too much snow — being born and raised in California."

Keith shook his head again. "Practically never. I vaguely remember seeing it once, maybe but I was a kid. Younger than Tracy, even."

"I thought it was really nice of you to help us though," Candy said.

"Thanks, Candy," Keith said turning to her, and the little girl blushed again.

"The three of them did an admirable job, my dear," said Daniel Gregg, materializing into the kitchen. "You know, if they weren't here I could lend a hand in that, but with the house full of people, I don't dare chance it." Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "But before you ask, human or spirit, there is nothing I can do about their vehicle. I didn't cause the problem, so I cannot fix it. Rather like Gladys and Harvey, those honeymooners, or Tim Seagirt's . . . camper, he called it? . . . that was stuck in the wet sand on the beach. I caused the rain, but had no control over the vehicle being stuck."

Shirley Partridge came down to the kitchen — a worried frown on her face.

"How's Tracy, Mom?" Laurie asked, catching her mother's look.

"Still way too hot for comfort, as far as I am concerned," she said. "I read to her for a while, and she's dozing now, but I don't like her cough." She shook her head. "I wish I could get hold of Doctor Griffith."

Martha poured Shirley a cup of coffee. "No luck there, I'm afraid. The phones are still out."

Shirley shrugged. "Well, at least she is asleep at the moment. Where are Chris and Jonathan?"

"Watching TV and playing with Scruffy," Danny answered. "I looked right after we got back. No news on TV though. Too bad. I can't check the stock market reports, and I didn't even try to find a newspaper under all that snow out there." He pointed toward the kitchen window.

"You wouldn't have found one, anyway, Danny," Carolyn smiled. "We only get a little local paper here — once a week, and it came out last Thursday. What Mark Finley, the editor, knows about stocks wouldn't fill a thimble, anyway."

"What that pup knows about EVERYTHING wouldn't fill a thimble," the Captain snorted. And Carolyn coughed into her coffee cup.

"Okay, Carrie?" Shirley asked, patting her back.

"Fine . . ." Carolyn mumbled. "Something just went down the wrong pipe, that's all."

"Well, if you'll excuse me," said Keith, "I think I'll go check out the instruments — I'd like to make sure no snow made its way inside the cases. That, and those amps . . ." He broke off, shaking his head.

"I'll help, Keith," said Danny, also rising from his chair. "And then, maybe . . ." he looked at Carolyn, "Can Jonathan show me the rest of the house? He said you have an attic, with lots of stuff in it."

"Mrs. Muir, Carolyn, I . . ." The Captain started, but Carolyn cut him off.

"I'd rather you didn't go poking around up there," she said quickly. "There's a bunch of old things stored in the whee — attic, and I'm sure Cap . . . Mister Gregg doesn't want anything damaged."

"There's a LOT of old stuff around here, Mrs. Muir," Danny said. "Tell me, have you ever had all the furniture and things appraised? I mean, you have antiques here. And who's Mister Gregg? I thought you said he was a Captain."

"Mister Gregg is our landlord, Danny. He's a descendant of the Captain Gregg who built the house." And she shot Daniel Gregg a look that said, "Don't even start."

"DANNY," Keith said, looking embarrassed. "You ask too many questions." He grabbed his brother's arm. "Come with me and make yourself useful."

"But I have more ques. . ."

"LATER, Danny!" and on that note, Keith half dragged his brother out the door.

Shirley rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Carrie. Danny gets obsessive on anything related to the subject of money, and/or making a profit. I can't imagine where he gets it from. Not me, certainly!"

"Gotta admit though, Mom," said Laurie, "If Danny didn't have a talent for that kind of thing, we never would have been discovered, because none of the rest of us ever would have nailed down Reuben."

"That's all right," Carolyn grinned. "I should turn him loose on Claymore the next time my lease comes up for renewal. I have a feeling with Danny in charge of the negotiations, Claymore would end up paying me money!"

The Captain snapped his fingers. "Bravo, my dear! That's who the lad reminds me of! Claymore!"

Martha laughed at Carolyn's remark. "Actually, I was going to say that Danny reminds me of someone, too, but I can't think who — it's just this bothering feeling I've got. Claymore, yes, a lot, but someone else . . ."

"Danny Shoemaker," Candy said softly. "He LOOKS like Danny Shoemaker, except for his hair is a little longer, but his mom sure doesn't look like you, Mrs. . . . Shirley, I mean. Mrs. Shoemaker is well . . ." her voice trailed off. "Well, just kind of . . . but you're pretty, like my Mom. You two could be sisters!"

"Thank you, sweetie!" Carolyn grinned. "You know, Shirley and I DID use to pretend we were sisters, and we went through the whole routine — we'd call and see what the other was wearing the next day, do our homework over the phone together, spend the weekend at each other's houses . . . all those things."

"Don't forget lip-synching to Patti Page and Nat 'King' Cole!" Shirley added, her green eyes sparkling.

"And singing Rag Mop!" Carolyn giggled. "My mother told me she didn't think we would EVER get tired of that one!"

"I loved that song!" Martha interjected. "I haven't thought of it in ages!" And the housekeeper struck a pose as she sang the old song, saucily.

The seaman silently applauded, and Martha looked around the kitchen. "Well, thanks to Laurie and Candy's help earlier, my kitchen is in order, but I still have laundry to put away, and some ironing to get done. Now, you two stay right here and catch up. There's plenty of coffee on the stove if you want it, and if I need anything, I'll grab one of the kids." And she bustled out of the room.

Laurie rose from the table. "I think I'll excuse myself too — I just remembered I left my sleeping bag and stuff all over the living room couch. Martha shouldn't have to pick up for me. I'll just roll everything up and put it in the alcove . . ." She looked at her mother. "Sorry, Mom, Carolyn. I didn't mean to be a slob."

"Hardly that, my dear young lady!" said the Captain. "A charming young girl, Carolyn! Delightful manners!"

"You can move your stuff upstairs to my room, if you WANT to," said Candy, looking eager. "I have lots of space in there, now that Jonathan moved to the spare room. You'd get your own bed, and everything." The little girl suddenly looked doubtful. "You don't mind sharing a room with me, do you?"

"Are you kidding?" Laurie grinned, "Of course not! You know . . ." she added, throwing an arm around the younger girl's shoulders, " . . . that was the only thing wrong with last night. Not having a younger sister with me. I share a room with Tracy, at home. I should be asking you! You're sure you don't mind?"

"Golly, no!" Candy's blue eyes grew wide. "I can't WAIT to tell everyone you stayed in MY room!" And with that, she grabbed Laurie's hand, and dragged her toward the door.

"All right! I'm coming!" Laurie laughed. "Later, Mom! Bye, Carolyn!" As they started out the door, Carolyn heard Laurie ask Candy if she could draw Captain Gregg's portrait, and she watched the seaman's self-
satisfied smile as he disappeared.

xxxxxxxx

The snow continued to fall all of that morning. Carolyn and Shirley spent the next few hours exchanging stories, gossiping, as old friends will do after a long time apart, and checking the status of the phone lines from time to time, but otherwise relaxing — pausing once or twice to answer a question for Danny, Chris or Jonathan, who were also getting to know each other, and twice to check on Tracy, who had woken up, calling for her mother, and once long enough for Shirley to listen to a new guitar riff from Keith, who was trying to work on a song. This last caught the younger boys' attention — Jonathan, demanding to know how long he had been playing the guitar, and Danny and Chris, who wanted to know when the new song would be finished. Keith responded with "You can't rush greatness," and the boys moaned and departed for the living room, Chris and Danny making remarks about 'know-it-all-older brothers.' Laurie and Candy were in Candy's room, chatting as only girls can.

Daniel Gregg, barred from his regular activities, given the weather and the heavy activity at Gull Cottage, spent some time in the wheelhouse, working on his sea charts, using some new information Carolyn had gathered from the public library. When he reached what Carolyn called "a good stopping point," he stretched, more from habit than from actually needing to, and looked around the attic. His eyes rested on the model that he had Jonathan had started the week before, and he wished, sadly, that the boy were there with him. Selfish, Daniel, he said to himself. The lads are having a good time. You managed for more than a hundred years with hardly any human contact at all, a few days shouldn't bother you, and they are a nice bunch of people. Restless, he dematerialized, and reappeared on the balcony outside the master cabin. Change in scene, Daniel! That's what YOU need. The weather is of no consequence to you, after all. A whimpering sound came from inside, and Daniel cocked his head. Ah, yes, the little girl . . . Tracy. He dematerialized and rematerialized at the side of the bed. Sweet little thing. I wonder what . . . Ah, here's the problem. She's kicked her covers off. Well, I'll just save Mrs. Partridge a trip. Carefully he reached for the tangled covers, and with a flick of his wrist, straightened them and started to flip them back neatly over Tracy.

Tracy's eyelids fluttered and opened. "Hi," she said, sleepily.

"Hello, Tracy," he answered. "Tracy, you can see me?" Why? he wondered.

"'Course," she said, a fretful tone in her voice. "You came back."

"Yes," the seaman said solemnly, slightly nonplused at the child's reaction. Not the normal one, upon seeing a ghost, to be sure.

"Where have you been?" she asked. "I've been waiting."

"I've been . . . busy," the seaman said, for lack of another explanation.

"Oh. But you came back, and I'm glad," she said, looking the teeniest bit more alert.

"I'm glad to see you again, too, Tracy," Daniel said, keeping his voice level.

"Are you an angel?" Tracy asked, almost conversationally "Are you here to help me 'cause I don't feel good?"

Startled, the Captain finished covering the child. I wonder what Martha would think of ME being called an angel? Likely as not she'd say Fallen Angel! "No, I'm . . . Captain Daniel Gregg, Tracy."

"And you're an angel." It was a statement, more than a question now.

"No, Tracy. I'm not an angel. I'm a ghost," he said, deciding that the child could handle the news.

"You don't look like a ghost. Ghosts look like Casper."

"Casper?"

"Casper, the Friendly Ghost. You know, he's white, and looks like a sheet flying around, but he has eyes and a nice face. Can you fly around?"

She seaman shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I'm not that kind of spirit."

"That's okay," She rubbed her eyes. "But you're really a ghost?"

"Yes, I really am. See?" Not wanting to walk through a wall and leave the child alone, he sunk slowly into the floor, leaving only his upper half-visible, and then levitated himself again.

"That's neat," Tracy said solemnly. "You're a ghost, all right."

"Tracy," the seaman said gently, squatting down by the bed, and looking at the little girl in the eye. "Tracy, my dear, I don't know why you can see me, but I think it would be better if my coming here today stays between you and me."

"Why?" Tracy asked. "Aren't you coming to see me again?"

"I might, if you like my company," he said. "But I am not sure your mother would understand ghosts. Maybe we shouldn't say anything to her about me at the moment. We don't want to worry her. Would that be . . .?" He grasped for the right word. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Okay," said Tracy, snuggling back down in the covers. "It can be a secret."

"Fine, Tracy."

"I'm thirsty," she sighed.

"One moment." The Captain disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a glass of ice water. "Here you are, my dear."

"Thank you." Tracy sat up again and took the water carefully. "Hmm. That tastes good . . ." Yawning, the child handed the spirit the glass and curled under the covers again.

"Sweet dreams, Tracy, my dear." The seafarer gave the sleeping child a thoughtful look, and then vanished.

END PART ONE