#ghosts cbs

A QUIET DETOUR

“Wait, Abby!” Trevor called out as he rushed out of the front door, following his daughter. He sighed in frustration when he realized she couldn’t hear him. Moments like this made him hate being a ghost. Though he doubted she would have stopped even if she had heard him. She was way too disappointed with him. He stopped and watched Abby disappear from his view as she headed back to the restaurant. “Fuck!” he shouted. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was angry. Angry at himself for screwing things up with his daughter, angry at Sam for interfering in his family matters, and angry at the whole situation because he was a ghost and couldn’t interact with his daughter like any normal dad could.

Trevor turned around, intent on going back inside and confronting Sam about her behavior. He froze when he noticed someone sitting in the Porsche.

Hetty.

She was staring at him, dumbfounded. Their eyes met, and they both spoke at the same time.

“What on earth has just happened?” she asked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither answering. Finally, Hetty explained, “I needed to think of a strategy to solve the problem with Jay’s employees… and since this car’s seats feel like sitting on the velvetiest throne…”

“Well, I’m glad at least someone’s enjoying the car,” Trevor grumbled.

“I believe Samantha is too…” Hetty added. “A little too much, if you ask for my opinion.”

“I don’t want to talk about her right now,” he replied abruptly.

Hetty didn’t say a word. She simply patted the empty driver’s seat and met his eyes. Trevor didn’t move. Hetty patted the seat once again, more insistently this time. He sighed and finally gave in. He sat in the driver’s seat, and when he met Hetty’s eyes again, she offered him a faint smile. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sounds of the mansion seemed almost muted from the car.

“So… do you want to tell me what has just happened?” she asked softly.

“You know… I’ve just committed the greatest parenting disaster of all time.” Trevor tried, but the joke didn’t land. “…Okay. Fine. I screwed everything up with Abby,” he whispered, defeated. His fingers tightened around the edge of the seat, and he kept his eyes fixed on the dashboard.

“Trevor, this is your conclusion to the whole situation, not an explanation. Tell me everything… from the beginning.”

“But aren’t you busy with some problems at the restaurant?” he asked.

“The strike can survive a brief intermission,” she replied, waving a hand. “Go on,” she added encouragingly.

Trevor looked at her hesitantly before saying, “I bought this car for Abby.” Hetty nodded, and he went on, “But she didn’t accept the present. Said something about it being too…” He paused as he tried to remember the exact word. “Douchey.”

Hetty gasped, a hand covering her mouth. “What is wrong with people nowadays that they can’t even appreciate the luxury of this life?” she asked, horrified. “I apologize. Please continue.” She added with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Trevor smirked, but he quickly grew serious again. “I am concerned, Hetty.” He paused. “I look at Abby and she seems aimless to me…” Hetty frowned, and Trevor continued explaining. “She doesn’t seem to have goals, dreams… She majored in French poetry. She’s smart—like, reallysmart. She’s funny. She’s got all this potential… and she’s waitressing.” His voice faltered. “In a restaurant in the middle of nowhere…”

“Don’t say that to Jay,” Hetty said, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“Fair.” Trevor's expression grew thoughtful. “I just want what’s best for her… I…” He paused. “I don’t want her to waste her life…” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hetty nodded sympathetically. “It is one of every parent’s greatest fears… but I also understand why you are so worried about it.” She noticed Trevor’s frown and paused, searching for the right way to phrase it. Her features softened as she added gently, “You had your own future stolen from you. Of course you’re protective of hers.”

Trevor's expression faltered. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten how to answer. A sad smile crossed his features as he processed Hetty’s words. He looked down at his hands in his lap. “There were so many things I wanted to do…” He said it so quietly that Hetty almost missed it. “So many things I never had a chance to experience…” He swallowed hard and stared through the windshield, watching nothing in particular.

Hetty fell silent. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to die so young. She had felt as though she still had so much life ahead of her when she died, despite having lived far longer than Trevor ever had. She thought back to when he had told her how he imagined his life would have turned out if he had lived. He had only just begun working toward his dream when his life was cut short. He never had the house he dreamed of, never got married… though she couldn’t help but think that, in some cases, avoiding marriage had its advantages. At least it had for her.

“I know…” Hetty whispered softly after a few moments of silence, her hand briefly reaching for his. She gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. “But, Trevor, you know better than I do that it is difficult nowadays for young people to find their path. This isn’t the Gilded Age, where a father had his daughter’s entire life planned out and all she had to do was comply without question.” She added wistfully, “Yes, the waitress job is hardly ideal, but she is likely buying herself time until she figures things out.”

“Oh, but there’s something she wants to do,” he informed her. “I’m just not really a fan of it,” he admitted.

“Ah.”

“She wants to go to grad school in France to study poetry.”

“Oh, I’ve always dreamed of going to Paris!” Hetty exclaimed enthusiastically. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to share that, she thought. “Forgive me. Continue.” Her expression sobered. “So what did you do? Did you talk with her?”

“That’s where things got messy.” He grimaced.

And Trevor explained everything: how he had asked Sam to talk to Abby about her dreams and goals; how Sam had decided to have that conversation during a drive in the Porsche; how she had mistaken “France” for “finance” because of the rumbling engine of the luxury car; how enthusiastic and proud he had been when he thought Abby was following in his footsteps; and how he had offered to pay for her tuition before discovering the truth.

“When I found out about the whole misunderstanding, I wasn’t pleased…” he recalled. “Because, just like Pinkus, I didn’t think it was a good idea.” He hesitated. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. And, well… I can’t say I’m thrilled about paying for it…” He rubbed his forehead. “I mean, finance? This is a safe career path. But poetry? What is she going to do with it? We aren’t in some Renaissance era where rich people just collected poets like they were luxury handbags. No offense.” He added, looking at Hetty.

“None taken,” she replied, shaking her head. “Though I’m not that old, Trevor.” She added, giving him a disapproving glance.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m a finance genius, not a historian.” He grinned, lifting his hands in surrender. He quickly grew serious again. “So, yeah, I’m not actually thrilled by this idea, but I’m the cool Dad. I can’t exactly tell her that, can I? I don’t want her to hate me.”

Hetty nodded sympathetically. She understood his struggle. Beneath the irritating T-Money persona, Trevor was far more insecure than he liked anyone to know. “Trevor… I cannot say that I have been a good mother… far from it.” She saw him preparing to object, but stopped him with a raised hand. “I delegated the care of my child to nannies and boarding schools. I am hardly qualified to advise anyone on parenting. However, I have learned over time… and by reading those advice columns from Alberta’s ridiculous magazines…” She paused. “That a good parent must be both supportive and firm. You cannot always be the cool father. You are her parent, Trevor, not her friend.” 

“I don’t think you were looking at Alberta’s magazines for the advice column,” Trevor said after a while, one eyebrow lifting knowingly.

“I was!” she exclaimed, glaring at him. She didn’t like what he was alluding to. How dare he? She was a lady. “It was quite delightful reading about lives more miserable than mine.”

Trevor rolled his eyes at her. They remained in silence for a while, enjoying the soft breeze and the humming of the birds. “She calls me GD,” he said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. He noticed her furrowed brows and explained, “That’s short for Ghost Dad.”

For a moment, Hetty said nothing. Her expression softened as she looked at him. “You know I’m not a fan of monikers, but I have to say that I find this one quite endearing.”

“Yeah…” Trevor replied softly. The light in his eyes faded, and he sighed. “And now she called me Trevor. She hates me.” 

Hetty rolled her eyes. He was being overdramatic. “She doesn’t hate you, Trevor. She is upset. She’ll come around,” she said encouragingly. “Now, did you speak with her? Is that why she stormed out like this?” 

“Not really.” Trevor shrugged. “I had the best plan. I texted Bela, asking her to talk with Abby about her own study-abroad experience. And let’s be honest, Bela is a walking cautionary tale.” Hetty nodded in agreement. “I just wanted her to discourage Abby… but my plan backfired. Sam arrived, and Alberta threw me under the bus by telling her everything.” 

“That gaudy songbird! Of course she did.”

Trevor couldn't hold back a soft laugh. Only Hetty could make an insult like gaudy songbird sound almost respectable.

“Yeah, well, then Sam had an outburst, and she ratted me out way worse than Alberta did by telling Abby that I didn’t want her to go to France and that I didn’t have the guts to tell her.” 

“She did not!” Hetty exclaimed, covering her mouth with a hand. “That girl definitely needs some etiquette lessons.”

“Yeah, and now Abby thinks I’m lame. I will never forget the look on her face. She was so disappointed in me. I feel like I let her down…” Trevor sighed. He couldn’t look at Hetty, feeling suddenly ashamed. Maybe he’ll never be good at this Dad thing, he thought. “I wasn’t there for the first twenty-five years of her life, and it took me about one minute to fuck everything up.”

“Trevor…” Hetty sighed. How could he be so hard on himself over one mistake?  “You didn’t…” She paused, searching for a more elegant way to phrase it than Trevor had. “…make a dreadful mess of it.” 

“My plan was working.” He went on, too focused to listen to Hetty’s reassurance. “Abby would have changed her mind without me having to play the boring Dad card. I am so angry.” He clenched his fists. Hetty watched his hands tighten, but she didn't interrupt him. “I am so angry at myself for screwing things up, angry at Sam for stepping in… She had no right to do so…” 

“I do believe Samantha overstepped and had no right to interfere in your family matters,” Hetty said gently, resting a calming hand on his arm. Slowly, his fists relaxed beneath her touch. “But you know, as much as it pains me to admit it—because you know how much I love scheming…” She smiled. “We cannot always choose the easy road. Sometimes we have to get our hands dirty on the unpaved one.” She hesitated. “Take it from someone who has been there. I gave my son everything. Money. This mansion. Security. A name…” Her eyes drifted toward the mansion. “But the truth is, all those things mean very little to a child if what they lack is love and affection.” She searched for the right words before continuing. “Yours, Trevor, was a wonderful gift. Extravagant, certainly, but heartfelt.” She sensed he was about to object and continued before he could. “However… I also recognize a gift made from guilt because you weren’t there during the first twenty-five years of her life.” 

Trevor's eyes dropped to the dashboard. His fingers brushed absently over the leather, suddenly seeming unsure what to do with themselves. He listened without saying a word. “It seems obvious to me that Abby isn’t here for the gifts, Trevor. She needs someone to understand her, to support her… and I know that these are things you do very well.” She smiled. “And I do believe I speak from experience.” He gave her a quiet, appreciative look before she continued. “So, sit down with her. Hear her reasons. Find out why she wants to do this. She’s a bright and intelligent girl. I’m sure she’s not doing it simply to eat croissants and become infatuated with some Parisian.” 

“Hetty!” Trevor exclaimed, covering his eyes as if the thought could materialize in front of him. “What’s wrong with you guys?” he asked, feigning exasperation. “Flower mentioned a ménage à trois, you’re talking about French kissing some random guy. Is this supposed to make me feel better?” 

“I apologize,” Hetty said, unable to hide her amusement. He was such a girl’s dad. She had probably picked up that term from Samantha. “The point is…” She grew serious again. “Talk to her. Try to see things from her point of view… just be there for her. She needs you more than any fancy car.” 

Trevor nodded as he absently ran a hand over the dashboard. “You think I should give my blessing for that France trip and pay for it?” he asked genuinely after a moment of silence. 

“I can’t tell you what to do,” she replied sincerely. She appreciated that he valued her opinion so highly. It was a pleasant change. “I think you should talk to her. There is a reason why she made that choice. Knowing what it is will help you decide,” she said calmly. “And I know you’re angry at Samantha, but talk with her as well,” she suggested. “I suspect her uncontrolled reaction has something to do with her mother. She snapped at me rather badly back then, when we both worked on having the Freddie boy fired.”

“Those were good times,” Trevor remembered with a grin. He would never admit out loud that he wasn’t only referring to their scheming.

“Indeed,” she agreed with a wistful smile as her mind drifted back to that memory.

“Thank you, Hetty,” Trevor said after a few moments of silence.

She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to him. “Anytime.” 

They sat in the Porsche for a while, simply enjoying the quiet spot away from the chaos of the mansion and the restaurant. The afternoon breeze stirred the trees around them, and for once neither of them seemed eager to return to the madness waiting inside.

“And what about you?” Trevor then asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah. What’s going on with Jay and his employees?”

“Oh, they want a raise. Apparently, Jay said he would reevaluate their salaries after three months.” Hetty shook her head, outraged. “I can’t understand why he would promise such an absurd thing. Have Samantha and Jay learned nothing from me about running a business?” Hetty had, of course, taken it upon herself to dispense her wisdom to Samantha whenever possible.

“Yeah, well, the B&B would have been booming if they had,” Trevor replied.

“Thank you.” Hetty accepted the compliment proudly.

“Though I don’t know if it would have been good for us, ghosts,” he added thoughtfully.

He had a point. Having Samantha and Jay nearly go bankrupt wouldn’t do them any good either. 

“So Jay played the honest card and made a tearful speech about how he and Sam are barely keeping their heads above water, which, if you ask me, was a terrible mistake. You can’t show your weaknesses to employees, or those bloodsuckers will use them against you.” She shook her head. “I tried to voice my disapproval, but I am a ghost and Jay can’t hear me.” She sighed in frustration. “And let’s say that your Porsche made everything more complicated.”

“My Porsche?” Trevor asked, surprised.

“Samantha thought it was a good idea to pick up Abby in that car… and then drive Jay to the restaurant in it. She has a rather unhealthy relationship with this car, Trevor,” Hetty added, concerned. “One of the employees saw the luxury car, told the others, and within seconds they were all conspiring in the kitchen like sewer rats.”

“This is a real mess,” Trevor said. 

“They even pronounced the godforsaken word,” she whispered, outraged. 

“The godforsaken word…” Trevor echoed, having no idea what she meant. The corners of Trevor’s mouth twitched as he watched her work herself into a state. He might have even called her cute if she weren’t Hetty Woodstone—a woman who had probably kept a stack of her enemies’ heads somewhere in the mansion. 

“Union!” she exclaimed, horrified, before clapping both hands over her mouth.

Trevor stared at her for a beat. “You know…” he said carefully, “most people don’t treat that like they just accidentally summoned a demon.”

Hetty lowered her hands just enough to glare at him. “This is a serious matter, Trevor.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just that… you getting this riled up is kinda adorable.” He regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth. 

Hetty's expression went completely still. “Adorable?” she repeated slowly, making sure she had heard the word correctly. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. How dare he?  “You know what is not adorable, Trevor?” she asked. “If those rats bleed Jay and Samantha dry, they’ll lose the mansion. And then what happens to us? We could end up with anyone.” 

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he replied calmly. She was maybe a little overdramatic, but she wasn’t wrong, either. “So, tell me, do you have a plan?” he asked. “Surely you’ve dealt with situations like this before?”

“Well, usually I had some goons break the strike.”

Trevor stared at her for a moment. “Yeah, well… you can’t exactly do that anymore. Unless you’re some kind of godfather in the Mob.”

“Can’t believe they’re the only ones with values left! What happened to this world?” Hetty exclaimed, throwing up her hands in outrage.

Trevor chuckled. “Okay, do you have any plans that don’t involve breaking the law?”

Hetty glared at him. She fell silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in front of her. Then, almost thoughtfully, she said, “I was once threatened with the godforsaken word.”

“Who dared to do such a thing?” Trevor inquired, his curiosity piqued. This was getting good.

“Some children at the textile mill.”

“Oh, right. I tend to forget about your child labor practices.”

“We had the highest rate of child employment in the state,” she replied proudly. “And those small creatures with their tiny fingers really did wonders…” She paused. “…when they didn’t chop off one of their fingers. Or the whole hand.”

Trevor stared at her, slightly horrified. “I’m kinda scared to ask how you solved the problem.”

“I tricked them,” she replied simply, shrugging.

“Of course you did.” Trevor smirked.

“I gave them something they couldn’t refuse.”

“Oh, some good food?” Trevor asked, assuming that was something working-class children would have dreamed of.

“Absolutely not!” Hetty exclaimed. “I told them they were welcome to eat any rats they found. That was already a very generous offer.” Trevor looked even more horrified. “No, I gave them dignity.”

“Children don’t even know what that word means,” Trevor replied incredulously.

“Precisely.” She smiled. “I invented some meaningless, grand-sounding job titles. Those little bugs were enthusiastic.”

A laugh escaped Trevor’s lips. “Well, as messed up as it was, I still prefer this to having children beaten up by goons,” he conceded with a smile.

“I wasn’t a monster,” Hetty replied indignantly. Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Not entirely a monster,” she amended.

Trevor chuckled. She glared at him in response, but then he noticed something change in her expression. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and a mischievous smile slowly spread across her face.

“What is it?” he asked, immediately suspicious.

“I may know how to solve this strike,” she replied proudly, but said nothing more.

Trevor waited for her to elaborate. When she remained silent, he frowned. “So?”

“I’ll tell you later.” She smirked, clearly enjoying his growing impatience. Trevor let out a quiet groan, but Hetty merely smiled, seemingly quite pleased with herself. “Thank you,” she added after a moment, her voice warmer now.

“Not sure I was useful, but you’re welcome.”

Hetty leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes, intending to savor one last moment of quiet before returning to the restaurant. Trevor did the same, feeling more relaxed after their conversation and more confident about facing Abby.

After a few moments, Hetty popped one eye open. “So, about the car…” Trevor turned to look at her. “You’re going to sell it?”

“I may have to,” he admitted reluctantly. “If I’m going to pay for Abby’s tuition…” His reluctance gave way to a sudden grin. “And apparently it’s making Jay’s employees think he and Sam are sitting on a pile of money.”

“That’s too bad…” Hetty sighed. “This was quite a remarkable car.”

“Right?” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I knew you would get it.”

She smiled. “And I’m going to miss those seat massages.”

“Too bad I can’t turn them on for you one last time. I can press the button, but we still need the car key…” He paused. “And I think Sam has it.” He groaned.

“I can’t believe Samantha is once again ruining all the fun,” Hetty complained.

Trevor nodded. He looked down at the steering wheel, absentmindedly running his fingers over it. Then he froze, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Uh… you’re not trying to rekindle the passion you once had for the washing machine, right?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Hetty’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “How dare you!” she exclaimed, swatting his arm lightly.

“Okay, sorry!” Trevor raised his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Hetty rolled her eyes at him. “I think I should go back to the restaurant,” she said after a moment of silence.

Trevor nodded, his gaze drifting toward the mansion. The thought of facing Abby still made his stomach twist, but after everything they had talked about, he felt a little more prepared. “And I should go talk to Abby… and Sam.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be there with you,” Hetty said sincerely.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” His voice was soft, but his expression soon brightened. “You have a strike to handle. Who’s better than you?”

Hetty smiled back. “Though I do have to find a way to make my voice heard.” She winced. “If Jay insists on doing things his way, it’s going to be a terrible fiasco.”

“I bet. But I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re the Lady of the House, after all. You’ve got more than one trick up your sleeve.”

Hetty placed a hand over her heart, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Oh, thank you. You’re not too bad yourself… and I must admit, the Bela strategy was rather ingenious. I would have backed you up on this… before realizing that perhaps it was not the wisest course.”

“I know.” The corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes wandered over the Porsche. For a moment, he simply admired it, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the dashboard. “Bye, babe. It’s been a hell of a ride, even if it was a short one… and even if I technically couldn’t drive.”

Hetty raised an eyebrow. “Babe?”

“Come on, Hetty! She’s a beauty!”

“It’s a car, Trevor. Not a person. Though you know very well that I dislike such monikers.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. His mind went back to one night, during one of their amorous congresses—that was what she called them—when he had accidentally let that word slip. Babe. If Hetty’s look could kill, he would have died a second time that night. He wondered if she was alluding to that moment—and to the fact that he had used the same pet name for her and for a car. Definitely not a class act. He would never know, because he certainly wasn't going to ask her.

“See you later?” Trevor asked with a smile. She nodded. He held out his fist toward her. “A power-friend fist bump before I go? To wish me luck?” he added, sensing that she might object to such a commoner gesture.

Hetty stared at his outstretched fist for a moment as though contemplating whether she truly wanted to dignify such behavior. Then she sighed, rolled her eyes, and raised her own fist to bump his. Trevor smiled and turned toward the door. He was just about to step out of the car when Hetty called after him. “Trevor, wait!”

He turned back, surprised. Something in Hetty's expression had changed. The teasing smile was gone, replaced by a quiet determination. She leaned slightly closer, her voice firm but warm. “Go show Abby what a good dad you are.” Trevor's expression softened. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, a gesture she considered far more encouraging than a fist bump. “I believe in you.” For a moment, Trevor simply stared at her. His eyes glistened, and he swallowed before a warm smile slowly spread across his face. “And I want to hear everything about it later.”

“And so do I,” he replied. His smile turned mischievous. “Go show those commoners what it means to go against Hetty Woodstone and her descendants.”

Hetty lifted her chin, clearly pleased with herself. She squeezed his hand one last time before finally letting it go.

Trevor stepped out of the Porsche, then paused and glanced back at her. “See you later, power friend.”

Hetty rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Go, Trevor. Before I change my mind about believing in you.”

He chuckled and finally walked toward the mansion.