I've had a steady flow of guests since I opened, but there is one little problem. I've inherited a ghost along with my dream castle. It serves me right, I guess, because I used to fantasize about how much fun it would be to have a ghost like Casper around. Well, I don't have Casper, but I do have Henry. Why the name Henry? I don't have a clue.

Henry started doing little things at first like turning on lights after I had turned them off, rearranging food in the refrigerator, then he graduated to taking food out of the refrigerator for a midnight snack. I confided the goings on to a friend of mine and he thought it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard--a ghost, no way! Well, I'm here to tell you, 'way' indeed. After I realized that Henry meant no harm except for letting food stay out all night, I made peace with him and told him he could stay.

Just because I told him he could hang around didn't mean anyone else could and now I have a real problem. Last week one of my guests came into the kitchen all upset. He complained he and his wife heard a lot of commotion in the night and suggested that I tell my other guests to keep it down while other folks were trying to sleep. I couldn't wait to get my hands, figuratively of course, around Henry's neck. What was he pulling now--a party with some of his ghostly friends?

After assuring Mr. Robbins this wouldn't happen again, he announced it certainly wouldn't since they were leaving that morning. I had never tried to get in touch with Henry--he was just always there, but now I had to try.

"Henry? If you're here, give me a sign."

Nothing.

"Okay, I need to get something straight with you. I've let you stay here, as irritating as you can be at times, but if you're going to bother my guests, you will have to leave and I mean it."

Nothing.

"A standoff, eh? If that's how you want to play it, just remember--no more aggravating my guests or out you go."

I didn't have a clue how to get rid of Henry. I'd heard of exorcism, but that seemed extreme and besides that, I didn't want anyone to know about this.

The next few weeks passed with no incidents. Then, one night when all my rooms were occupied, I heard an ear-piercing scream loud enough to stir the dead. It came from a room on the second floor, the Honeymoon Suite, occupied by a young woman who was in Wimberley for a horse exhibition. She was attractive, physically fit, and a prime morsel, I guess, for my phantom visitor.

When I got to her door, all was quiet. I didn't know whether to knock or just retreat to my bedroom. Coward that I am, I chose the latter convincing myself the scream was a bad dream. The following morning, I scrutinized the guests as they came into the dining room. No one said anything to indicate they heard a scream. Then, Miss Harris came in looking, I thought, a little whey-faced kind of like Grandma's meringue on her chocolate pies.

"Morning, Miss Harris. How are you this beautiful day?"

She smiled and mumbled something I couldn't hear. If she thought she was going to get by with that, she was crazy.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, and you?"

All right, the old cat and mouse game wasn't going to play here. I know I heard a scream, dammit.

"Actually, not too well. I had a bad dream that I couldn't shake."

Miss Harris smiled, fixed her plate, and moved to the outside porch.

Well, maybe it was only a dream. If she did scream, she obviously didn't want to talk about it. Just as well. If my other guests got wind of ethereal spirits, or whatever, in the house, it could definitely hurt my business. So, I'm selfish, but I've waited a long time for this chance and a few ghosts weren't going to ruin it for me.

Miss Harris checked out later that day.

"Okay, Henry, loosen up. Do you have a pal roaming my house? If you do, tell him you are the only spirit allowed in these digs. Got it?"

Nothing.

"Look, I know you can't talk, but give me a sign--move something, knock something over, anything to let me know you're here."

A saltshaker tumbled off the table.

"That's better, but you don't have to knock things off the table--maybe you could just move them a little. Know what I mean?"

Nothing.

"Here's the thing, my ghostly friend. You and I have an agreement but that doesn't include other spirits. So, even if you can't talk to me, you can get rid of this other guy, right?"

Nothing.

"Henry, come on. Move that fork if you can get rid of him."

Nothing.

"All right. Let's approach this from a different angle. If there's another ghost on these premises, move the doggone fork."

This time Henry obliged and the fork slid across the table.

"That's better. I'm assuming you can't get rid of him, but kindly inform him in your ghostly language that if he keeps hanging around, I'll have someone come in with special magic to get his ass out of here. If that happens, you go too, Henry."

Nothing.

"Glad we have an understanding. I'm depending on you to get this straight."