As they chatted about this or that, Simon was more than happy to kick back and enjoy his espresso. He liked watching Gail, he realized, liked how animated and expressive she was, especially now that she was in her element. Of course, he also liked recalling the image of her standing in the bedroom this morning, wearing nothing but her pajama bottoms as she turned to face him—
“Ted’s an author,” Gail explained, cutting into his thoughts.
Simon had lost the thread of the conversation. Sitting up, he cleared his throat and attempted to pretend otherwise. “What kind of books does he write?”
“Thrillers. Already has two out.”
With that enthusiastic lead-in, Simon expected Ted to ask for the usual favor. Hundreds of authors sent their work to his production company, hoping to gain interest in a movie adaption. But to Simon’s relief, the conversation moved on to another guy, someone by the name of Kyle Houseman, who wasn’t there. Kyle was going through a nasty divorce. It soon became apparent that everyone blamed his wife.
Simon guessed he was the only one in the group who felt sorry for the maligned soon-to-be ex. He knew how being “the problem” felt. He also knew that a divorce was never as clear-cut as it appeared.
After the talk of Kyle’s divorce, a woman with black hair and a widow’s peak—Eve Something—spoke up. “What would you guys think if I started a new marketing campaign for the B and B focusing on those scary stories we used to pass around as kids?”
“The ones where we claimed the inn was haunted?” This was Sophia. Simon had noticed that every time she tried to contribute, everyone else immediately stiffened.
“Last I heard, you wanted to keep a lid on the history of the place for fear of scaring off patrons,” she said.
Eve shrugged in response but wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. “That’s true, but…times have changed. I need to try a more aggressive approach.”
All of these people were attractive, Simon thought. Sophia, with her wide blue eyes, brown hair and porcelain skin, was probably the prettiest, but he wasn’t as taken with her looks as he would’ve expected to be. He returned his attention to Eve of the widow’s peak. “You own A Room with a View?”
She blushed as if she was surprised he’d get involved in the conversation. “No. The other B and B—the Gold Nugget Inn. It’s not quite as nice or as prominently situated.”
“It is nice,” Gail chimed in. “But Simon hasn’t seen it.” She turned to him. “Eve’s parents bought it just after they were married and fixed it up, so it’s been in her family for years. It’s around the bend, heading out of town to the north. Cheyenne—” she motioned to her other friend “—helps run it. I’ll show it to you later.”
Riley entered the conversation. Gail had introduced him as her contractor friend, so Simon had made a special note of his name. “Do you think that story we used to tell is true? About the young daughter of the couple who built the Gold Nugget being murdered in the basement?”
“It is.” Cheyenne contributed this remark. She’d been listening quietly, seemed to hang on every word, but she came across as the type who typically kept her thoughts to herself. “When we first moved to town my mother dragged me and my sister into the cemetery and said if we didn’t take good care of her while she was sick, the same evil that got little Mary Hatfield would come after us.”
“That’s so out of line.” This came from Callie, the only member of the group who seemed unwilling to accept Simon. She’d frowned when they were introduced and bristled whenever he looked at her. “But knowing her, it doesn’t surprise me,” she added.
“You were in high school when you moved here,” Gail said to Cheyenne. “I hope you knew better than to believe her.”
Cheyenne’s somber gray eyes focused on Gail. “I absolutely believed her. There was no telling what she might do.”
“That was so unnecessary,” Ted put in.
“Exactly,” Eve agreed. “They would’ve taken care of her. Look at them now that the cancer is back.”
“She’s my mother,” Cheyenne said. “What else can I do? Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Anita. We were talking about the inn.”
“Tell them what you found at the library, Chey,” Eve prompted.
“You tell them,” she responded, but Gail joined Eve in prodding her.
“What’d you find?”
Cheyenne stirred the whipped cream into whatever drink she’d ordered—hot chocolate?—as she began to speak. “When Eve first mentioned the idea, I went down to the county library and researched the story. I found an old newspaper article dated August 1, 1898, that said the girl’s father came upon her strangled in the basement.”
Ted nodded. “That’s the same story I heard. They never figured out who did it.”
“I used to be so afraid of seeing Mary’s ghost,” Eve said.
“And you want to use that tragedy for marketing purposes?” Callie looked horrified. “Don’t you think that’s kind of…morbid?”
Eve shrugged. “It is but, like I said, I’ve got to do something.”
“That’ll be taking things in a new direction, all right,” Riley said with a laugh.
It was obvious that Eve didn’t appreciate his attitude.
“Will you change the name, too?” Sophia wanted to know. “All Hallows Inn would be chilling.”
Slumping in her seat, Eve played with a sugar packet. “I’m willing to do anything. The place needs updating and repairs, and I don’t have the money. I don’t want to lose it to the bank. So I’ll have to get creative. If I make the wear-and-tear part of the theme, I might be able to limp along for another year or two until I can get on my feet.”
“Makes sense to me.” Gail reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “When you’re ready, I’ll help you put together a press packet so we can get the word out.”
Eve smiled her thanks.
“I don’t know....” Riley wasn’t convinced. “Might be too gimmicky, Eve.”
“I disagree,” Cheyenne piped up. “I think we should do it.”
Everyone seemed surprised that she would argue with him.
“There’s so much interest in the supernatural,” she went on. “We should hire some good fortune tellers and offer free tarot readings on check-in, really go with the theme.”