Though if you ask in advance, a picnic lunch can be prepared for you. And we request a deposit of one night’s stay,” Cassie said, giving him her usual spiel.
“Certainly.” He pulled an envelope out of his pants pocket and took out six one-hundred-dollar bills, dropping them on the counter. “Put that on my account.”
Cassie stared blankly at the small pile of bills. No one paid for anything with cash these days. For one thing, it wasn’t safe to be carrying that much money. There were too many people in the world only too eager to try to take it away from you....
She looked up, her eyes lingering speculatively on the hard thrust of his jaw. Dan Travis didn’t look like he’d be an easy man to take advantage of. Unexpectedly, she shivered. Her gut reaction was that he’d deal with threats in a ruthless fashion.
“We do take credit cards,” she offered.
He shrugged. “I’ve found that credit cards cause credit problems. I never use them.”
“I see.” Cassie picked up the bills, wondering why he was lying to her. That was a rental car he’d driven up in, and you couldn’t rent a car without a credit card. So why would he use a credit card for his rental car and then pay cash for his room? It made no sense. Unless he didn’t want whoever paid his bills to know that he’d been here. But why not? China View was about as innocuous a place as one could find. An eighteenth-century Puritan minister wouldn’t find anything to complain about.
“Is cash a problem?” Dan asked.
“Umm, no,” Cassie hastily disclaimed. “No, not at all.” She scooped the bills up and shoved them into her pocket. “I was intending to go into town this afternoon anyway. I’ll deposit it in the bank then.”
“Is there a restaurant in town?”
“Uh-huh,” Cassie murmured, debating whether to invite him along with her. He was definitely the most interesting thing that had happened on her vacation so far. And if past visits to China View were any indication, he was the most interesting thing that was likely to happen. On the other hand, she didn’t want to give him the impression that she was in the habit of making a play for every personable male who appeared at the inn.
“I’ll have to get directions from you,” he said. “I missed breakfast, and I’ll never last till dinner.”
A hint to be asked along? Possibly. She would invite him to go with her, she finally decided. The worst thing that could happen would be for him to refuse. She’d survived men refusing her invitations in the past and undoubtedly would in the future.
“You’re welcome to ride along with me if you like,” she said casually. “I have an errand to run, but I always finish up by having coffee at the café.”
“I’d love to.” He gave her a sudden smile that sent a sparkle of anticipation through her. “If you can wait until I put my case in my room and make a phone call?”
“Sure. Just push nine for an outside line.” Cassie handed him his key. “Number fourteen is at the top of the stairs, second door on the right. I’ll meet you out front in half an hour.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he picked up his suitcase and began to slowly climb the stairs, obviously favoring his right leg.
Who did he want to call the minute he arrived? Cassie wondered as she went in search of her aunt, to tell her that her reservation had arrived and she was taking him into town with her.
She found Hannah in the attic, happily reliving the past as she sorted through the trunks that lined the walls. As Cassie had expected, she had no objections to her borrowing the car to go into town.
Cassie had just located her aunt’s car keys on the kitchen counter when she heard a thump at the back door. She pocketed the keys and cautiously peered out the window over the kitchen sink. After twelve years of living in New York, being careful was second nature. Spying a man outside, she observed him carefully. Because of the way he was standing, she couldn’t get a clear view of his face. All she could tell for certain was that he wasn’t all that tall. Not much more than her own five-four.
Curious as to why he would have come to the back of the inn instead of the front, she opened the door. Her eyes widened as she studied the man standing on the stoop. He was wearing a rusty black suit of an antiquated design. Clutched in one of his large hands was a battered, black felt hat. Dusty boots covered his oversize feet, but it was his face that Cassie found fascinating. He had a full, black, bushy beard that almost totally obscured his features and piercing black eyes that snapped with some emotion.
“Well?” he demanded.
Impatience. Cassie identified the emotion with an inward sigh. She saw a lot of it in her line of work.
“Well what?” she shot back, refusing to be intimidated by someone who looked like he’d wandered out of a Broadway rehearsal. Broadway rehearsal? She examined the man more closely. He looked exactly like one of those old paintings of whaling captains hanging in the town library. She grinned happily at him. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Aunt Hannah’s friend at the amateur theater group had done them proud. And on such short notice, too. Now, if only his command of acting was as good as his knowledge of period costumes, and he didn’t demand a fortune for the impersonation. She hastily wiped the eager expression off her face.
“Won’t you come in?” She moved aside.
“Thank ‘ee.” Jonas stepped into the kitchen. “I’ve come about the haunting job. I want it.”
“You certainly look the part.” Cassie gave credit where it was due. “Did Aunt Hannah’s friend explain what we want?”
“Someone to scare the bejammers out of your guests.”
“I think it would be better if you were just to shake their bejammers a little. I don’t want to send anyone into shock.”
Jonas shook his head in bemusement. “Beats me why anyone would want to be scared, even a little. But then there’s no accounting for tastes and that’s a fact.”
“It’s also one of the first premises of any advertising campaign. Now then, Mr.... What did you say your name was?”
“Didn’t. You can just call me Jonas. Captain Jonas Middlebury.”
Role immersion, Cassie thought in approval. “What we need, Jonas, is for you to put in an appearance most days for a few hours and judiciously allow yourself to be seen once. At most, twice. We don’t want to saturate the market and destroy our credibility.”
“Do you speak English, gal?” Jonas frowned at her. “Didn’t understand a blamed thing you said. Ain’t natural for a woman to talk like that.”
“Don’t get too far into the nineteenth century,” Cassie said dryly. “Some modern woman is liable to strangle you. What I meant was that I don’t want you to show yourself too often because people won’t believe it.”
“They’ll believe in me,” Jonas stated with a conviction Cassie found heartening. “I’ll give you good value.”
“What do you charge?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.” Jonas scratched his beard reflectively.
