When Elizabeth "Lizzie" Brogan returns home from an extended trip, her Aunt Annie May greets her with a request. She asks Lizzie to help her get to the stage door of The Belasco Theatre by first call to meet her true love, Dan "Curly" O'Brien. This should be a simple task, but for the fact that Annie, once a successful musical star on Broadway, has been dead for twenty-seven years.
Annie lives in a giant tramp steamer trunk, the same trunk Lizzie takes on her travels for eight years. At the end of their last trip, Lizzie learns it is not only the ghost of Annie May and the other ghosts of Broadway who need her help, it is also her living love-ones.
The predictable life Lizzie left behind has vanished, she must learn to face the failures of her past, help Annie May and her mother, and confront her true feelings for James, her childhood sweetheart.
A love story of parallel worlds,
Lizzie Brogan and The Broadway Ghost, a paranormal romance complete at 80,000 words, attempts to pair two lovers in our world and reunite two lost lovers in the afterworld.
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What sets Lizzie apart is the theme of the New York City Broadway stage. Based on a true story,
The Ghosts of Broadway, by Robert Viagas, June 10, 2005, written for Playbill.com, the afterworld in Lizzie takes place at the landmark Belasco Theatre and features the ghost of David Belasco, The Bishop of Broadway himself. It offers a glimpse of an afterworld where the show is always in rehearsal and the lights never go out.
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The dark corners of the attic became my secret playground. Too young to play with my siblings, I dug through their possessions, the rows of boxes filled with my sister's and brother's childhood keepsakes, an old prom dress that Moira had worn, my brother Michael's football uniform. I imagined a dozen stories of them while I played with their trophies, and spent hours sorting their photographs. None could compare to the treasures held in the giant trunk and no stories as fantastic as those of my Aunt Annie May.
The first time I saw her, was a cold day in winter that trapped us in the house, and while outside snow fell in sheets, and wind and ice assaulted the windowpanes, inside Esther baked me chocolate fudge brownies, and I planned a day of playing dress-up. I was eight, went in search of my sister's pompoms, and spent most of the morning in the corner of the attic pretending to be a cheerleader. I heard my mother coming up the stairs and hid behind a row of boxes.
She was talking to the front of the trunk, the way you talk to a person across the table at breakfast. "This weather is about to drive me mad." If there was another person in the room, I didn't hear them. I could only hear my mother's voice. "Aye sister, stay out of the blasted fog."
After my mother left, I walked to the opposite corner, where the giant tramp steamer trunk sat, nestled under the cross beams of the roof. I thought I saw her smile and talked to her. "Hello?"
A clear image of a woman turned and waved, "Hello yourself, Elizabeth."
I remember I wasn't afraid, only excited that I had seen her at last. "Don't run away, Aunt Annie. I'm Elizabeth, your niece. I'm sure mom told you about me."
I looked up and she was perched on one of the rafters. "She did at that, child."
"You're a ghost?"
"Sorry to say, yes I am." And in an instant, the smoke curled downward into the trunk and vanished.
"Aunt Annie?" She was gone.
