of ferns and palms, rich fabric-covered sofas and chairs, Oriental rugs spread over hardwood and marble floors that gleamed. The crystal chandeliers sparkled. Through high arches she could see thick burgundy carpet running to the elaborate entrance of a huge ballroom.
“Nothing was quite like Fernhaven at the time,” the elderly man said. “I remember my parents talking about the place. It opened during the Depression, but there were still some that had money and wanted to be with other folks with money in someplace isolated. Couldn’t get more isolated than this,” he said with a laugh.
“Do you have a phone I could use? I tried my cell phone but it doesn’t seem to work up here.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to talk so much. Gets lonely up here.” He was tall and whip thin, with a shock of gray hair and thick brows like caterpillars over pale eyes. “You’re welcome to use the phone in the office, but I doubt you’ll be able to get anyone out tonight. The closest town is to the east, and if the road is flooded… Give me a minute. I should call the highway patrol first, so they can put up a roadblock at the creek.”
He left her and Lexi, and went into the back. Jenna could hear him on the phone. When he returned he said, “The creek isn’t the only stream flooding tonight. Sounds like there’s more problems on the road you came in on. I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere for a while.” He glanced from her to Lexi.
Jenna realized what they must look like. Though the rain had stopped, there was enough moisture in the air to make them both damp and chilled.
“I can put you in a room for the rest of the night,” he offered. “We’re not officially open, but we have some suites on the third floor that are finished.” He waved off her concern. “The rooms are just sitting up there.”
She had no choice, she thought, gazing at her daughter. Lexi hugged her rag doll, looking both cold and tired. “That’s very kind of you. I just don’t want to get you into any trouble.” She thought of the man she’d seen looking from the window on the third floor. “Did you say there is no one else staying here?”
“Just the three of us,” he said, smiling down at Lexi. “I’m the security guard. Name’s Elmer. Elmer Thompson. I’ll be here until six, when the manager arrives with the rest of the crew finishing up the place. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Jenna had forgotten about Fred until he meowed and tried to jump down. “I’m sorry about the cat. He’s my daughter’s and she couldn’t bear to leave him in the car.”
Elmer smiled. “I think we can accommodate the cat, as well. The dining room isn’t open yet, but I can scare up some canned tuna and a box with some sand from the construction site. How would that be?”
“Wonderful.” Jenna found herself starting to relax. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
“You can discuss that with the manager in the morning,” he said.
She noticed the old black-and-white photographs behind the registration desk. “When were those taken?”
“Opening night, June 12, 1936. The new owners rebuilt the place to make it exactly like the original, right down to the most minute detail.”
“Rebuilt it?” She felt a chill as she squinted at the photo taken of a ballroom filled with people, the men in tuxedos, the women in fancy gowns and elaborate, expensive jewelry. “What happened to it?”
“Burned down opening night.”
She jerked back from the photograph. “How horrible. Was anyone hurt?”
“Fifty-seven souls lost.”
She felt her chest tighten. “These photographs…if they were taken during opening night…”
He nodded in understanding. “You’re wondering how the photos survived. A newspaper photographer took the photos then left to meet his deadline not realizing that the hotel was burning to the ground as he drove into town.”
She glanced around unable to hide her shock. “Why would anyone want to build on this site, let alone make the hotel exactly as it was?”
Elmer shook his head. “I’ve never met the owners, but I heard they feel Fernhaven is too beautiful to lie in ashes. They don’t build hotels like this anymore, true enough, but quite frankly, I think they did it because of the ghosts.”
“Ghosts?”
He laughed. “Haunted hotels are the thing, they tell me. It’s a marketing ploy. Some of the crew have said they’ve felt them.” He scoffed at the idea. “Cold spots in the hallways, curtains moving when there is no breeze, that sort of thing. The gimmick must work. We’re booked solid for the grand opening in three weeks.”
“It sounds ghoulish to me,” Jenna said, and couldn’t contain her shiver.
“I’m sorry. You’re both chilled. Let me get you into a room.” He turned to the wall of wooden cubbyholes behind the counter. Each held a pair of old-fashioned room keys. “I suppose I should have you sign in, if you don’t mind. Make it official.”
Elmer flipped open a thick book that looked not only old but charred in one corner, as if it had been burned. “From the original hotel,” he said, seeing her shock. He swung the book around and handed her a pen.
She took the pen, but drew back when she saw the date on the opposite page: June 12, 1936. Seventy years ago. And the list of guests who’d signed in that night. She couldn’t help but wonder how many of those people had died here.
“Is there a working phone in the room, so I can call for a wrecker in the morning?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She noticed that his attention was suddenly fixed on the key to room 318, lying next to the registration book. He seemed surprised to see it there. She tried to remember if she’d seen him take it from the cubbyhole, and couldn’t.
Frowning, he checked the book, then with a shake of his head and a small laugh, he handed her the key with 318 embossed on it.
“Thank you.” Jenna looked again at the old photographs of people dancing in a large ballroom, others sitting in the lobby or standing at a long bar.
One of the faces jumped out at her. Her heart began to pound for seemingly no reason as she stared at a man from the 1936 photograph.
He was lounging against the bar, decked out in a tux, holding a champagne glass in his hand as he smiled at the camera, arrogance in every line of his body.
His hair was dark, with an errant lock hanging down over his forehead. His features were as chiseled as the broad shoulders under the tux jacket, his face handsome even with the thin dark mustache.
She felt a chill ripple across her skin. Something about the man reminded her of the image she’d seen in the third-floor window earlier, as she and Lexi had approached the hotel.
The man seemed to be looking right at her—and smiling as if he knew something she didn’t.
“If you’ll just sign the book…”
She dragged her gaze away from the photograph, surprised she’d
