a quick embrace. “I love you.”
“I love you too, hon. Now, grab a pair of oven mitts and carry those servers into the dining room. People will be arriving soon.”
Shaking off the gloomy mood, she set to work. After relocating the third tray of food, Joss returned to the kitchen.
“I almost forgot.” Annie rummaged in her handbag and drew out a disc. “Pop this CD in the player. Not exactly “Monster Mash,” but it’ll set a spooky mood.”
“Great. I tried to find some suitable music, but wasted too much time searching through boxes. I have to finish unpacking.” Joss hurried to the front parlor and inserted it into the stereo. Strains of a crisp violin solo filled the room, a haunting melody she could easily imagine hearing through the misty forests of Transylvania. Right before the vampire attack. Perfect.
Humming along, she double-checked the beverage setup. She didn’t mind the peeling wallpaper or the cobwebs in the corner so much anymore. They set a great atmosphere. And like tonight, would soon be a memory. Starting her life over might present a challenge, but Joss intended to give it a hell of a try.
The first chime of the doorbell caused her stomach to flutter. “Oh, dear.”
A squee echoed from the kitchen and grew louder as Annie flew to her side in such a rush, the resulting breeze twirled the paper bats strung along the ceiling. Flashing two thumbs up, she jerked her head toward the front door. “Let them in. We’re ready.”
Ready as Joss would ever be. She mustered a smile and froze it there, then marched to the foyer. A quick check in the mirror, a primp of the scarlet and black flowers on the table below it, and she inhaled deeply, set a smile on her face and opened the door. “Happy Halloween.”
For three years, her dog Taz had been her main companion, but now strangers arrived in waves. Costumed as witches and vampires, cowboys and clowns, guests meandered through the front room as more entered.
Remember, be the goddess hostess. She widened her smile. “Welcome to Lavender Hill Inn. Please help yourself to refreshments in the dining room.”
Passing with a nodded hello, they formed a polite line to the food table. Some wandered across the foyer to the front room again, clutching their drinks, eyeing the door as if ready to bolt. That is, when they weren’t eyeballing the worn carpeting or the dim light fixtures straining to eke out a glow. Or scrutinizing her. Most of them probably came to ogle the woman foolish enough to buy the broken-down B and B.
She forced herself to the center of the parlor. “I’m Jocelyn Gibson. I’m so happy you’ve joined our celebration tonight. Please let me know if you need anything.”
No response, not even the chirp of crickets. That reminds me. She needed a brass one for the hearth. For luck. Too bad she hadn’t bought one in time for the party. The silence of two dozen guests grew unnerving. “Isn’t the food delicious? Annie Wilkens is a magician in the kitchen.”
Nods. Whew, an ice breaker. Well, maybe an ice cube. Everyone in town knew Annie, a lifelong Boiling Springs resident. Joss counted herself lucky the day they’d met at middle school summer camp, a friendship more solid than any she’d known despite attending different schools in neighboring towns.
Crumbs lined an older man’s lips as he chewed. “Is she your cook now?”
“Yes, Annie’s the chef for Lavender Hill Inn.”
Sitting on the wingback chair, he grunted. “I like the pulled pork she makes for our summer festival.”
Joss clasped her hands. “She has some fantastic menus planned.”
Hushed ohs rippled through the room.
“I can’t wait for you to try them. After we finish renovating, of course.” She wondered if her facial muscles would give out trying to maintain a cheery expression.
Conversations began in muted tones, then grew louder. Joss strolled around the room, offering to refill drinks, fetch more food. Anything to keep busy.
The doorbell chimed, and Joss excused herself from her guests. She pulled open the door and slumped in relief. “Aunt Lydia. Thank goodness.” If anyone could enliven the party, it was her.
Her aunt entered with a flourish. A silken orange and red skirt and shawl set off her auburn hair. She swept past Joss, then halted abruptly, palms open to the air, eyes wide as she circled the foyer. She stopped long enough at the entryway to the front room, then the dining room, to scan inside with a look of concentration and awe.
Joss braced herself. Lydia must sense it too. The undeniable vibrations sizzling up from the earth.
As if she hadn’t noticed Joss before, her aunt’s loud greeting carried across the foyer. “Jocelyn, my dear.” Lydia rushed toward her with open arms and crushed her against her ample bosom, then held her at arm’s length. “I’m not late, am I?” Her aunt relived her theater days in any crowd.
“No, you’re right on time.” To save this party from an early death. Her aunt had offered to give readings, certain to entertain some people.
Lydia’s hands went to her heart when she noticed the grandfather clock. “You kept it. I’m so glad.”
“I’ll never part with it.” How could she? Hand carved by her grandfather for Gram, it displayed the correct time, but never chimed the right hour. Not since… The realization struck. Since I married John and turned my back on them. And, her family had accused, real love.
“Darling, when you first told me about your purchase, I thought you’d gone mad. Buy a ramshackle bed and breakfast? But oh”—Lydia clasped her hands, her smile self-assured—“now that I’m here, I know.”
“It doesn’t look like much now, but some refinishing will make the inn good as new.” Glimpsing the sagging wallpaper, Joss withheld a wince. “Well, almost.”
Leaning close, her aunt murmured, “The energy drew you here. It’s palpable. You must be careful. Others will be drawn here seeking to tap into its force too.”
A curious warning. “What do you mean?”
Trembling, Lydia grabbed Joss’s arm tight.
This was no act. “What’s wrong?”
Closing her eyes, Lydia moaned. “Oh, it’s…overwhelming.”
“What is?” In alarm, Joss squeezed her aunt’s quaking hand. “Aunt Lydia? Is something wrong?”
As the door opened, Lydia opened her eyes. Gusts of warm wind blew inside, gaining in intensity. They riffled through the black and scarlet flowers on the foyer table, danced with the candlelight until it flickered, and whirled the paper decorations.
The grandfather clock began to chime, echoing like gongs through the entryway. Shimmering white lights swarmed inside and filled the room. They played across the walls and ceiling as if reflecting a thousand tiny mirrors.
Or like a flock of glowing wild creatures breaking in to wreak havoc.
The fae. It took Joss’s breath away to see them enter her home. Only once before
