A Fright to the Death

“We can’t impose like that, Vi,” I began. “Wallace was just checking some other hotels . . .”

 

 

Vi shook her head and crossed her arms. “Nonsense. Have you looked out there?” She gestured at the window. “You’ll never get anywhere and then you’ll be stuck in the woods in a blizzard.” She pointed a knobby finger at me. “No. You can stay here at least until the weather clears. It’s really no bother.” She put her hand on Mac’s arm.

 

Mac and I looked outside to see heavy flakes pouring down.

 

Wally cleared his throat and said, “Sometimes the road does become impassable in a bad storm.”

 

“Let me just talk to Mac,” I said and we walked a few steps away from the desk.

 

Vi crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

 

I put my hand on his back and turned away from our audience. “What do you think?”

 

Mac pressed his lips together and then let out a breath of air. “Well, it’s the exact opposite of the way I thought I’d be spending the evening, but I’d hate to get stranded on the road somewhere.”

 

I snuck a look at Vi over Mac’s shoulder. “We can stand it for one night and we’ll figure out where to go in the morning. How long can a snowstorm last, right?”

 

We walked back to the desk and I nodded to Vi and Wally.

 

“You make a good case for safety,” Mac said. “We’ll stay tonight.”

 

Vi clapped her hands and grinned.

 

“How about that tour, Wally?” Vi asked. “I’ll come along. I have a few questions. Plus I want to hear about the ghost again.”

 

“Ghost?” Mac said.

 

Vi nodded. “It’s a great story. I’m trying to talk the knitters into doing a séance. Come on, let’s go!”

 

Wally hurried out from behind the desk in an attempt to take control of the tour. He smoothed his jacket, and smiled at us.

 

Mac took my hand and glanced longingly at the door. We heard it rattle on its hinges as a gust of wind struck it full force.

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

Our guide led us toward the back of the hotel and to the right, where we came to a restaurant surrounded by windows. It had the feel of a greenhouse except today everything was white outside. Small tables were scattered about the room. Black tablecloths topped with white squares lent a more cosmopolitan feel to the space than I had expected. The walls displayed black-and-white photos of Paris, and the large windows shared a view of the back of the property, which sloped down toward the woods. The snow was picking up and any lingering thoughts of escaping the knitters’ convention fled as I watched it fall.

 

“This is our restaurant.” Wally swept his arm in the direction of the dining room. “Complimentary breakfast is here from seven until ten. Usually we recommend reservations for dinner, but I don’t think that will be a problem today.” He chuckled and then turned it into a cough when no one joined him.

 

Wally led us out of the dining room and gestured toward a hallway outside the door and said that it led to the kitchen and offices. He took us to the back door, where a small area had been fitted with hooks for coats.

 

“Sometimes our guests prefer to leave coats and such here so they can grab them quickly if they want to enjoy the gardens.” Wally pointed to the coats, scarves, and hats hanging on hooks—it looked like there were quite a few knitters here if the amount of outerwear was any indication.

 

I didn’t imagine we would choose to enjoy the gardens on our brief stay during a blizzard, but we shrugged out of our jackets and found hooks for them. Mac took a slim envelope out of his inside coat pocket. I saw my name scrawled on the front. He folded it and stuffed it in his back jeans pocket without looking at me.

 

Mac felt more comfortable expressing himself in writing and I had been the recipient of a whole box full of notes over the years. I decided to pretend I hadn’t seen it and let him give it to me when he felt the time was right. But I did wonder what could be so difficult to say that he had brought a letter with him on vacation.

 

We followed Wally back out toward the front and to the other side of the entry hall. This was the room I’d imagined when we’d first pulled up to the building. Rich mahogany wainscoting and subtly patterned wallpaper made the room feel cozy. Dark reds and greens accented the deep leather couches and chairs placed about the room in conversational arrangements. Worn Persian rugs anchored the seating areas. Heavy red velvet curtains looked as if they could insulate the room from any storm. An enormous fireplace with a bright and cheerful fire glowing within beckoned me toward the couch.

 

I sighed and squeezed Mac’s hand, for the moment forgetting that we were leaving as soon as possible.

 

“Isn’t this terrific?” Vi said in my ear.

 

I glanced upward in a reflex eye roll and saw something pink on the chandelier.

 

“What’s that?” I pointed.

 

“You spotted it!” Vi said. She patted my back.

 

Wally rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.

 

Dawn Eastman's books