Fanny is waiting for you.
If you dare meet her.You can see her at Homestead Resort in Midway
If you can't see her, maybe you'll feel her.
Her hand on your shoulder. Her breath in your ear.
Maybe you'll hear her. Yelling for you to wait. She'll be out in a minute.
Maybe you'll just sense her. In the bells ringing for no reason in the gift shop. The eyes of the portrait boring into your back.
It's a ghost story, but different from almost any other spooky tale you're apt to hear this Halloween.
This story of things that go bump and boo in the night is real.
At least to many people who work at Homestead.
The stories have circulated for years about Fanny Schneitter, wife of Simon Jake Schneitter -- the couple who opened the famed hot pots in the late 1800s, leading to today's charming country inn.
Something follows those employees around. Often at the Virginia House, the original overnight lodge. Most feel it's Fanny.
She's been doing it right up until, well, Thursday.
Housekeeping manager Helen DeRusha and supervisor Vivian Harris were sticking a key in the door of Room 102.
A voice shouted.
"I'M NOT OUT YET."
Helen and Vivian went to the front desk to check the room status. Vacant. They returned to the room.
"It was empty," Helen said.
Do you wonder if they heard what they heard?
"I swear on my mom and dad's grave, the voice came from that room," Helen said. "I wouldn't have gone and made a complete fool of myself at the front desk if it didn't."
Housekeeping seems a special specter central.
"I was in 108 once and someone tapped me on the shoulder," Helen said.
"I've been in 108 and 102 and had them touch me from behind and blow in my ear," Vivian said. "The eyes in the Virginia House picture (Fanny's) follow me around the room. I'm like, 'OK, I'm just here to clean now. Be nice.' "
Housekeeping's hardly cornered the market on Fanny frights.
Ask Launie Magnuson in the gift shop. A man from Chicago came in one evening.
"His face looked all funny," she said.
Seems the man had walked past the Virginia House. Standing by the white railing on the east side was a woman. Old-fashioned dress. Pioneer hat.
"The man said she was standing there, crying, holding onto a tree with one hand. She reached toward him. He asked if there was anything he could do."
The lady vanished.
Launie doesn't doubt the man's sincerity. She's heard the bells.
"No wind. No door opening. They just start ringing," Launie said. "Always at closing time when I'm alone."
Then there's Wayne Winterton, a Wasatch County deputy sheriff and part-time Homestead night watchman. He gets frequent requests to respond to rooms where guests have called. He does. Zippo there.
"I get other odd stuff. Lights on I swore I'd just turned off. Doors open -- housekeeping says no reason," Winterton said.
"You know, I think it's best for me to stay on the fence about all this. Tell the truth, I'm there alone at 3 a.m. If I dwell on it, I could spook myself out."
To general manager Britt Mathwich, the only goblin on the premises is the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" wagon ride the resort offers this Halloween.
"I never met Fanny personally," he said. "But I believe the ones who have believe they have. And I think it's fun."
Same for those who hang out with their best ghoul-friend.
"I never feel threatened," DeRusha said. "To me, Fanny'd never hurt anyone. She just doesn't want to leave because she loves it here."
"I feel peace with it," Magnuson said. "I actually find myself waiting at closing to see if Fanny talks to me."
"If you don't believe she's here, spend a night and see for yourself," said Jan Kohler, another housekeeping supervisor.
Great idea, Jan. I ain't afraid-a no ghosts. But you first.
Send e-mail to gtwyman@desnews.com, fax 801-237-2121. Gib Twyman's column runs Saturdays.