town has history and ghosts are everywhere! I said that, didn’t I, Franklin? Didn’t I say that ghosts were everywhere?”
“Yes, you d—”
“And I was right! I just knew it!”
“I’m sorry. I’m still confused. You’re saying you saw a ghost … here?”
She playfully slaps my wrist. “Oh, don’t sound so surprised. You knew. I could tell you knew there was a ghost here when we met, yesterday.”
I glance at Franklin. He shrugs, indicating that I should play along.
“Really? So, uh, what happened?” I ask.
“Well, in the middle of the night, I thought I heard something outside by the door. Franklin heard it, too. Didn’t you, Franklin?”
“Yes, but I—”
“He thought it was deer or something, so he didn’t get up, but I knew. I told you, I have a psychic feel for these things.” She taps her temple for emphasis. “So, I got up and went to the living room, and there she was, standing just off the porch by the front door! She was looking right at me!”
My mouth is dry. My lungs aren’t working properly, and I’m trying desperately to hide it from her.
“She?” I ask.
“Yes! It was a woman ghost!”
“That’s—that’s incredible.”
“I know! Incredible! She was right there!” she says, pointing to a spot near the fire pit.
“So, um, wh—what happened?”
“Well, we stared at one another for a few seconds, and then she smiled at me, and started walking towards the woods. I yelled at Franklin to get up. I yelled, ‘Franklin, get up! You need to see this!’ Didn’t I, Franklin? Didn’t I yell for you to get up?”
“Yes, you did—”
“But he didn’t get up, did you, Franklin?”
“No, I d—”
“He didn’t get up. So, I ran outside and, well, I don’t run so fast,” she says, patting her hip, “and by the time I got out onto the porch, I just caught a glimpse of her as she walked into the trees.” She points again, this time to the path behind the cottage, leading off into the woods to The Sanctuary.
“That’s amazing,” I croak. My throat feels like sandpaper. “What did she look like?”
“Oh, she was beautiful. She was tall, with long red hair, and these really blue eyes. She wore a cloak. And, I’m not sure, but it looked like she had a scar, here, just above her eye.”
“Hello?”
“Maggie, it’s Jacob Reese.”
“Ah, Mr Coffee! How’s it going? Calling to talk smack about the costume contest?”
“Actually, I called to see if you’ve got any rooms available over there at the Elmwood Hotel.”
There’s an understandable pause before she replies. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I had a pipe burst in the cottage, and I need to redirect some guests for a few nights.”
“Well, the only thing I have available is the Rose Suite.”
“The Rose Suite?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on, Maggie. When I need a room, the only one available happens to be the most expensive room in your hotel?”
“You think I’m lying?”
“No. Sorry. That came out way too— I’m really sorry, Maggie. It’s been a long couple of days, and I’m on edge.”
“Listen,” she says, her tone softening not one bit, “normally I wouldn’t have anything available, but that rent-a-room bullshit is creeping into The Hollows. You’ve got people staying at your place all the time. Now, other people are renting out their spare rooms. So, yeah, I have a room available, but only because of people like you. The Rose Suite is all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
She’s right, and I feel like a jerk. “Maggie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were lying. Of course, I’ll take the Rose Suite. How many consecutive nights can I get?”
Now, her tone softens. “Wow. That must be some burst pipe. You call Stuart yet?”
Stuart Delholm is the local plumber. If I say I called Stuart, she might run into him, and ask about the cottage. I want to keep everything under wraps.
“No. It’s too big a job for Stuart. I called a bigger operation out of Burlington.”
“Jeez. That’s rough. Let me see how many nights I’ve got …”
I hear her typing. I can just imagine her at the front desk of the Elmwood, back perfectly straight, smile plastered on her cheeks as she greets incoming guests.
“I’ve got twelve consecutive nights, starting tonight.”
“I’ll take ten.”
Ten nights is the minimum cancellation notice policy for Be Our Guest.
Maggie lets out a light whistle. “Damn, Jacob.”
I’m sure she feels bad for me, but won’t have a problem pocketing the three grand I’m giving her.
“Do you want my credit card?” I ask.
“Nah. I know you’re good for it. You can drop by the hotel whenever you want.”
“Thanks.”
“Jacob?”
“Yeah?”
“Listen, despite what I said a little bit ago, I really am sorry. I know that it’s going to be a hard hit for your place’s reputation.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back up in no time.”
*
After hanging up with Maggie, I call Be Our Guest and give them the lie about the burst pipe, but reassure them that I’ve found comparable accommodations for my guests. I also cancel all reservations for the next three months. The representative on the other end of the line is dumbfounded. I keep getting passed up the ladder until I’m talking to a regional executive who says that Be Our Guest will send a plumber and an inspector to get me back up in three days. That’s how important my place is to them. I turn him down.
Then, the strong-arming attempts begin. He
