Pet Friendly (11 page)

CHAPTER 16

W
hen the door closed, Emma burst into a fresh flood of tears. Why did everyone think they could do her job better than she could? Her assistant manager, her banker, and now Todd had all felt free to weigh in on what she should be doing to save the inn. Did it never occur to them that she had a brain of her own?

Clifton and Mr. Grader she could understand; at least they knew something about her situation, but Todd had a lot of nerve. The guy was practically homeless and yet he'd sat there spouting advice as if she was the one who was barely getting by. What was it about her that made everyone think she was inept?

Archie trotted after her as she walked into the bathroom. No, Emma thought as she blew her nose, that wasn't fair. The fact was, she did need help; it was herself she was mad at. Todd might not be a businessman, but he meant well and all he'd really done was remind her of some things she already knew but was choosing to ignore. The Victorian theme
was
costing her a lot, and calling the Spirit Inn a haunted hotel was probably keeping away at least as many customers as it attracted. But what else could she do? Even if she'd had another theme in mind— which she didn't—changing things would take time, and without the ghost hunters' business to keep her going, she wouldn't have enough income to hold out. Emma was stuck with things the way they were, whether she liked it or not.

A soft whimper brought her back from the gloom. She looked down and saw Archie turn and run out. Curious, Emma followed him back to the living room and watched as the little dog hopped onto his pillow bed and dove under the blanket she'd given him that morning. Seconds later, he poked his nose out and quickly ducked back under, then did it twice more. He was playing hide-and-seek, Emma realized. Even with all that had happened, she couldn't help smiling at Archie's attempt to cheer her up.

“I see you, you little ghost,” she said.

Emma snatched the blanket away and scooped him up into her arms. Archie wriggled happily and began licking away the salty tracks on her cheeks, making her laugh in spite of herself.

“I wouldn't have to worry about losing customers,” she said, “if all the ghosts around here were as sweet as you are.”

She shook out the blanket and saw the places where Archie had gotten pizza sauce on it.

“Uh-oh,” Emma said. “We'd better stick this in the hamper.”

Archie followed her into the bathroom and watched forlornly as Emma tossed his blanket in with the rest of her dirty linens.

“Don't worry. Housekeeping will have it back by tonight. In the meantime,” she said, opening a cabinet, “how about a nice towel?”

Emma took out a fresh pink bath towel and laid it on Archie's bed. The little dog sniffed it disdainfully and pushed it aside.

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty,” she said. “But it's the best I can do.”

With the temporary distraction over, Emma's smile began to fade. She didn't have a lot of time, she thought. If the bank wanted its money by the end of the month, she'd have to scramble to find another lender. Chances were, she could find someone, but the interest rate she'd be paying would leave her even deeper in the hole.

Still, this wasn't the time to be worrying about it. There was nothing she could do until tomorrow, and the ghost hunters were expecting a good time until then. She washed her face, brushed the fur off her jacket, and headed out the door.

 

Back at the inn, the ghost hunters were all atwitter. Several more encounters had been reported, including the unexplained “disappearance” of her dishwasher's sandwich. Emma was tempted to nip that one in the bud but told herself that it was no more fanciful than any of the other sightings the SSSPA was exulting over. After all, it was what they'd all come for. Where was the harm? Once the conventioneers were gone, there'd be plenty of time for her to have a word with the staff about the dangers of spreading rumors.

The Van Vandevanders had to be over the moon about the increased sightings, she thought. As Lars was in charge of that year's confab, the fact that it was turning out to be one of their most successful was not lost on anyone—especially his rival, Dr. Richards. While the rest of the group exchanged stories of the encounters thus far, the man roamed through the inn wearing a black look.

Adam looked up and smiled as Emma passed the front desk.

“Professor Van Vandevander was just looking for you.”

“Oh?” Emma glanced around the lobby. “What did he want?”

“I'm not sure, but he said he'd be in the Spirit Room.”

As she headed down to see what Lars wanted, Emma kept an eye out for Todd. He and Jake had been working on the fence for some time now and she wondered how it was going. She hoped their disagreement hadn't changed his mind about staying. How would she break it to Viv that she'd been responsible for chasing the “delicious young man” away?

She found the Van Vandevanders in the hall outside the Spirit Room, in consultation with three other members of their group, one of them Dr. Richards. As she approached, Richards was shaking his head vigorously. From the looks on the others' faces, his was the lone voice of opposition to some well-laid plan. What was going on?

“Ah, there she is,” Lars crowed when he spied her.

Dr. Richards turned and glared.

“I'm sorry,” Emma said. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Nonsense,” Lars said. “Dick was just concluding his remarks.”

He looked around at the others.

“The steering committee was just discussing the addition of a séance to tonight's program, and we need your buy-in to proceed.”

Emma was taken aback.

“A séance?”

“A meeting in which a medium attempts to communicate with the departed,” Viv said.

“Yes, I know what a séance is,” she said. “I'm just not sure—”

“Precisely my point,” Richards said brusquely. “We can't be sure. Which is why I believe that, under the present circumstances, any attempt at necromancy would be ill advised.”

Viv arched an eyebrow.

“Providing the spirits with a link to the living hardly qualifies as a black art.”

“Really?” he sneered. “What would you call it?”

Emma held up her hands. “Wait a minute. What are we talking about here? Are you saying that séances are dangerous?”

“Of course not,” Viv scoffed.

“Dr. Richards is merely suggesting an abundance of caution,” Lars added as the others nodded their agreement.

Richards seemed unconvinced.

“Is that true?” Emma asked him.

He shrugged unhappily as the rest of the committee pursed their lips.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “Where the spirits are concerned, nothing is absolute.”

She looked at the others.

“When would you be holding this séance?”

“Tonight,” Lars said. “As a supplement to my lecture on the unexplained phenomena of the Pacific Northwest.”

Emma considered that. From her point of view, the problem wasn't that a séance might endanger anyone. The issue for her was whether or not the séance would necessitate the use of another room. The only one available was the Spirit Room, and after her talk with Jake about the damaged roof, she felt uneasy about putting anyone in there.

“Are you asking for my permission?”

“Not for the séance,” he said. “Not technically, anyway. What we need is your permission to move the venue from the Energy Room to the Spirit Room. Viv feels the vibrations here are more advantageous for a summoning.”

It was exactly what Emma did not want to do, yet she felt unable to say no. Without some clear indication of structural damage, there was no reason to think that the ceiling in the Spirit Room was unsound. Then again, if she allowed the séance to be conducted in there and anything went wrong, she'd be in trouble.

Suddenly, Emma felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue. Séances? Necromancy? Unexplained phenomena? None of it made any sense to her. Even worse, she realized that she didn't want it to make any sense. It was hard enough trying to run an inn, but the added layer of mystery and speculation involved in running a haunted one was a burden she felt increasingly unable to deal with. Maybe Todd was right; she wasn't happy with the way things were. But what else could she do?

The steering committee members were looking at her expectantly; she had to make a decision. She hated being pressured like this. Gran had always warned her not to make snap decisions.

“Let me think about it,” she said. “Maybe we could have it in another room instead.”

Lars looked at the others, who simply shook their heads. Viv shrugged.

“All right,” he said. “Perhaps another venue would work as well. But do consider it, please.”

“I will,” Emma said. “I just need to make sure it's safe first, that's all.”

The confrontation had left Emma feeling exhausted. In addition to everything else on her plate, she'd have to talk to Jake and ask him what he thought the actual risks might be. Whatever happened, she hoped she wouldn't be sorry.

But sorry was exactly what Emma was as she walked away. Sorry that she hadn't listened to Todd, sorry that she'd been so rude to him when all he'd done was point out what she already knew, and sorry that he might leave before she could tell him she'd been wrong to criticize his advice. She'd just have to apologize and hope he understood.

Jake was emerging from his toolshed when Emma stepped around the side yard.

“Come to see your new fence?” he said.

“Is it finished already?”

“It sure is. That assistant you got me knows more than he lets on. Come on,” Jake said. “I'll show you.”

As Emma followed him down toward the cottage, she saw the rebuilt fence. The new lumber would need a coat of paint to match the rest, but other than that, it looked as good as new.

“It's beautiful,” she said.

“That Todd's a good worker,” Jake said. “If he's still here when your loan comes through, I wouldn't mind having him help me with the roof.”

Emma felt a pang. There wasn't going to be any loan, not right away, at least, and maybe not ever. She'd have to tell Jake sooner or later, but she didn't want to spoil his good mood just yet.

“I doubt Todd will be staying here that long,” she said. “But when the time comes, we'll make sure you get a good assistant.”

He considered that a moment.

“Maybe he would stay, if you asked him to.” Jake looked at the tools in his hand. “I may not be an educated man, but I know love when I see it.”

“I'm not sure you're right about that, but if he's not too proud to take it, I'm pretty sure he could use a job.”

“Well, it's your decision, not mine.”

Emma looked back toward the inn. Suddenly, asking Jake about the Spirit Room seemed like the wrong thing to do. He was right; she was the one who was supposed to make the decisions around here. Why was she always so unsure of herself?

If the Van Vandevanders wanted to hold a séance, that was fine, but they'd have to do it where Emma told them to. She couldn't keep making bad decisions because she was afraid of losing their business.

“I'd better go in. Are you coming up?”

“In a minute,” Jake said. “I'm going to take a look at your front door first.”

“Why? What's wrong with it?”

“I don't know, but it seems like every time I turn my back it's open again.”

“Okay, but be careful you don't let Archie out,” she said. “I don't think Todd would forgive me if he ran away again.”

Emma trudged back up to the inn, pondering Jake's comment about knowing love when he saw it. In a somewhat simpler way, it was the same thing Viv had told her about seeing sparks when Todd looked at her.

She remembered how comforted she'd felt when he came to the cottage, how patiently he'd listened while she told him what was wrong. Were her friends just telling her what they thought she wanted to hear? Or was it possible that there was still something between the two of them after all these years?

As she headed for the front door, a flash of red caught her eye. A brand new Ferrari was sitting in the parking lot, its engine still cooling from the drive in. It was a beautiful car, but she didn't recognize it as one of the ghost hunters'. She went inside to see who it belonged to.

It didn't take long to find out. As Emma stepped into the lobby, she saw Clifton standing at the front desk grinning like a schoolboy. Not surprising, really. Her assistant manager was way too impressed by money and the people who flaunted it. She only hoped the Ferrari didn't belong to another nouveau riche millionaire, come to ask if she wanted to sell her property.

“Looks like we have a new arrival,” she said.

“We do,” said Clifton. “She just checked in.”

“I thought we were full.”

“We are. She's joining another one of our guests.”

Whatever secret Clifton was holding on to must be good, Emma thought. Was it a movie star, perhaps? The man looked as if he might burst.

“So, tell me. Who is she?”

Clifton glanced down at the guest registry.

“Miss Gwendolyn Ashworth.”

Emma shrugged. The name didn't ring a bell.

“Is she supposed to be famous or something?”

“She says she's Mr. Dwyer's fiancée,” Clifton said, his eyes bright. “Apparently, he's got himself a sugar mama.”

CHAPTER 17

R
epairing the fence had been just the antidote Todd needed to get rid of his bad mood. When he'd left Emma's cottage, he'd been so angry he didn't dare say another word lest it be something he'd regret. Lucky for him, though, Jake wasn't the talkative type, and after an hour of hauling lumber and pulling nails from old pickets, Todd had cooled off enough to gain some perspective. It wasn't Emma he was mad at, he realized; it was himself. He just had to find a way to channel that anger into finding a solution to his problem.

Todd stepped into the shower and let the hot water course down over his head and shoulders. He'd be sore tomorrow, but for the moment he was grateful for the chance to work off his pique without hurting Emma's feelings. The fact was, she had every right to be angry with him. If someone had barged in and tried to tell him how to run his business, he'd have thrown them out, regardless of whether their advice was good or not. As soon as he was washed and dressed, he would go find her and apologize.

It wasn't the need to make amends that had preoccupied him while he and Jake rebuilt the fence, though. He knew his relationship with Gwen was on the wrong track, so why on earth was he going forward with the engagement?

When the two of them were first dating, Todd had been so blown away by the thought of being with her that he'd written off Gwen's shortcomings—her selfishness, her immaturity, even her criticism of him and his friends—as minor annoyances. At the time, Todd and his partners had been negotiating the sale of their company, and the little time he and Gwen had together seemed too precious to waste on petty arguments. Then, after she moved in with him, it was just easier to throw money at the problem than deal with it directly. Letting her redecorate the house had been good for almost six whole months of peace.

But now that the business was sold, the minor annoyances had become major headaches. Refusing to let Todd borrow “her” car—which was technically his—was bad enough, but even minor disagreements over who owned what could cause a row that lasted for days, and just as their argument over Archie had, the only way anything ever got resolved was for Todd to back down. He couldn't afford to bury his head in the sand any longer. Unless Todd wanted to live the rest of his life on Gwen's terms, things would have to change.

He stepped out of the shower and started drying himself off. Once again, Todd thought, he would be wearing the same clothes he'd had on since arriving at the Spirit Inn. Thank goodness Emma had found him some work clothes in the Lost and Found. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.

The bedroom was dark. For a moment, Todd wondered if the inn had lost power, but the bathroom fan was still running. As he reached for the switch, he saw movement on the bed and realized that someone was in the room. He grabbed the towel at his waist more firmly and took a step back.

“I think you have the wrong room.”

Todd heard a giggle and the bedside lamp came on. Gwen was stretched out on the bed in her nightdress. She crooked her finger, motioning for him to come closer.

“Hey there, lover boy.”

Todd was too stunned to speak. What on earth was she doing there?

His hesitation in the face of Gwen's come-on was clearly unexpected. She sat up and reached for the robe that was draped over the end of the bed. Even in the low light, Todd could see that she was pouting. Twenty-four hours ago, it might have prompted an apology. Now it just made him feel cross. He reached over and switched on the light.

“What are you doing here?” he said. “And how did you get in my room?”

“I came to see you. The nice man at the desk gave me a key.”

Clifton. Even when Todd was a kid, the guy was always making trouble for him.

Gwen crossed her arms and thrust out her lower lip, making herself look even more like a petulant child. Had she always acted like this? Todd wondered. How could he have been so blind?

“I borrowed Daddy's car and left the island on the first ferry this morning to get here,” she said. “If you ask me, this is a pretty lousy way to treat your fiancée.”

Todd felt a chill. She must have found the ring. But how?

The suitcases! After he put the ring into the zippered pouch, he'd left the room to get his clothes. When he returned, his suitcase had been moved a few inches, but he just figured Gwen had disturbed it when she took down her own. The combination was written inside the lid and he'd already entered it on his iPhone; it never occurred to him to double-check it before closing the case. Besides, the two of them were nearly identical. Why would Gwen insist upon taking one suitcase rather than the other?

Because, he thought, one was “his” and one was “hers,” and if there was anything he knew about Gwendolyn Ashworth, it was that she never shared her things, not even with Todd.

What was he going to do?

“I'm sorry,” he said. “You just surprised me, that's all.”

“Serves you right,” she said. “After the surprise you gave me.”

She stuck out her left hand and fluttered her fingers; the engagement ring shone like a spotlight.

“And it's a perfect fit, too.”

Todd felt his stomach sink. He'd just congratulated himself for not popping the question this weekend, and meanwhile, Gwen had been doing it for him.

“Don't feel you have to give me an answer right away,” he said. “I want both of us to be sure it's right before we decide.”

“Don't be silly,” she said, admiring the ring. “This is exactly what I've been waiting for.”

“Oh. Well, that's good.”

How was he going to explain this to Emma?

Gwen looked around the room, apparently realizing that her girl-on-the-bed routine hadn't yielded the results she'd been hoping for. She slipped her arms into the robe and wrapped it around herself, cinching the belt with a petulant tug. In his present state of mind, Todd found her performance more irritating than amusing. He grabbed his clothes and retreated to the bathroom.

“I'll be out in a minute,” he said.

Todd shut the door and stared in the mirror at his own pale face. How was he going to tell Gwen that he hadn't meant for her to find the ring? His comment that she should take her time deciding whether or not to marry him had been quickly brushed away; it wouldn't be easy to bring up the subject again. If she thought he was calling off the engagement, there was no telling what she might do. Gwen's temper was legendary.

And what about Emma? Had she been there when Clifton gave Gwen the key? He doubted it. Handing a registered guest's key to a stranger was highly unusual, if not downright illegal; Emma would never have allowed it. And yet, in spite of the risks, that was exactly what Clifton had done. Todd had a sinking feeling that the old guy had known exactly what he was doing.

As he got dressed, Todd tried to figure out how he could talk to Emma. He wished he'd taken the time to apologize to her before going back to his hotel room. It would have been a lot easier to explain the situation with Gwen if he knew she wasn't still angry with him for being a jerk. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that any of this was his idea.

When Todd stepped back into the bedroom, he found Gwen fully dressed, sitting on the chair beside the bed.

“I'm hungry,” she said. “How about dinner?”

Todd hesitated. Now that they both knew she had the ring, he'd been hoping Gwen would go back to the island, but maybe this would work, too. While she got ready to go out, he could go find Emma and explain what had happened.

“Sounds good,” he said. “There's a lecture I was thinking of going to later. If you'd like, maybe you can come with me.”

It was only fair, he told himself. Once the lecture was over, he'd decide what to do next.

She slid out of the chair and headed for the bathroom.

“I'm going to freshen up a bit. Daddy's car was a monster to drive up here. Why don't you go put our names in at the restaurant and I'll meet you there in a few?”

“Good idea.”

This was perfect, he thought. He'd drop by Emma's office on the way, tell her what was going on, and fill her in on the details later. He opened the door.

“Um, you're not seriously thinking of going like that, are you?”

Todd glanced down at his clothes. Gwen was right. The restaurant was a pretty swanky place—too nice for a T-shirt and jeans.

“I would, but I can't open my suitcase,” he said. “I forgot to write down the combination.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

“Hang on,” she said, taking out her phone. “I've got it.”

When Todd had changed, he looked at himself in the mirror. The shirt was a bit wrinkled, but his sweater hid most of it and the slacks didn't look too bad. Gwen straightened his collar and nodded her approval. He grabbed his keys and put them in his pocket.

“By the way,” she said, “what's the lecture about?”

“Ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Gwen blanched. “As in dead people?”

“Yeah.” Todd opened the door and smiled. “Didn't you know? This place is haunted.”