by Becki Willis
Buckling in, she hoped for a quiet flight and a much-needed nap. Some sort of ruckus mid-plane left a child crying and flight attendants scurrying, but she still hoped for a nap. They had left The Sisters before dawn to reach Houston and catch their morning flight. After the stress of driving in stop-and-go traffic, a detour through the ‘hood, and their mad rush through the airport, her nerves were frayed around the edges.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Genny’s premonition of trouble nibbled on the back of her mind. Maddy wasn’t exactly superstitious, but if her usually upbeat and cheerful friend was this worried about the trip, she could hardly ignore the potential for problems ahead.
Her hopes of peace evaporated when her companion on the left introduced herself. Angie from Annapolis chattered from the moment they taxied down the runway until the attendant took their orders for complimentary refreshments. After ordering a caffeine-laced soda—as if she needs any more energy, Madison cringed—the chatterbox finally paused long enough to ask, “And what takes you to Baltimore?”
“My friend is a chef, and she’s judging a celebrity bake-off. Since she’s getting married in two weeks, this trip doubles as a bachelorette trip.”
“Girl trip!” Angie said in a sing-song voice, attempting to wiggle in the tightly packed space. Madison absorbed the blows with barely a grimace. “And how delightful!” She clasped her hands together in glee. “I love those kinds of things, especially when they offer samples to the audience! Are they selling tickets to the event? Where is it being held?”
“I think it’s about a half hour from Baltimore, at some designer kitchen showroom. They often film television cooking shows there, from what I understand.”
Angie from Annapolis nodded vigorously. “I know exactly where you mean! I love to go there and see all the newest appliances. In my mind, heaven must look exactly like Fretz Kitchens.”
“Oh, so, you’re a cook?” Madison asked, more from politeness than curiosity.
“Oh, no. Just a fan of fine food. When did you say the competition is? I’d love to get my hands on those tickets!”
“I’m not sure if they’re selling tickets, but the first bake-off starts tomorrow morning.”
“Did you upgrade to Wi-Fi for this flight?” Eager Angie asked. “We could look up tickets.”
“No, I didn’t. I had hoped to nap.” Madison added the last as a subtle hint.
Too subtle, apparently, for Angie to notice.
“I never sleep on planes. If we’re going to crash, I want to know about it from the first sputter of the engine, so I can start saying my prayers.”
Hoping the woman’s words about crashing didn’t carry throughout the cabin and cause panic, Madison quickly changed the subject. “If you know the area, what can you tell me about our hotel? We’re staying at the Presidential Hotel in Columbia.”
Angie’s eyebrows shot upward. “What can I tell you? I can tell you that you won’t be staying there!”
Her strange response drew a frown from Madison. “I don’t understand. It has a five-star rating and is apparently close to the contest venue. What’s wrong with the hotel?”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful hotel. At least, it was. Haven’t you heard? There was a huge fire there this morning and gutted the entire building.”
Madison gasped. “Seriously? We had no idea!”
“It’s been all over the news. In fact, I saw the story playing on the airport news monitors. Didn’t you see it? Apparently, they haven’t ruled out arson.”
“We were running late,” Madison murmured, her tone distracted. Her mind raced ahead. Was this the trouble Genny had foreseen? “I wonder where we’ll stay now.”
“I know just the place!” Angie answered, clasping her hands together again. “The Columbia Inn at Peralynna!”
Not realizing she spoke her worry aloud, Madison hadn’t expected an answer. She looked at her companion in surprise.
“Yes,” Angie beamed, nodding vigorously. “You simply have to stay there. It’s a wonderful house, and it’s full of mystique and over-the-top elegance. It was originally a private home, built to mimic a CIA safe house.”
“Why would someone want to build a CIA safe house as their home?”
“It’s a fascinating story. When you get internet service, you can read all about it. The owner’s parents were both agents and she grew up abroad, in a safe house that looked more like a grand mansion. You should see this place. Balconies, turrets, and all kinds of secret nooks. Rumor has it there’s even three hidden staircases in the house.”
“Sounds like the Big House,” Madison mused.
“You’ve never seen a prison like this!” Angie assured her.
Madison didn’t bother to correct her. The Big House was the moniker people had given to Juliet Blakely’s stately old mansion back home, the very mansion that Madison and her twins now lived in, thanks to Granny Bert’s generosity, a healthy dose of her conniving ways, and the good people at HOME TV.
Her companion continued extolling the virtues of the home turned boutique hotel. Madison managed a few questions but had little opportunity to do anything other than listen.
“There’s seventeen or eighteen suites, and all of them are unique. I’ve only stayed there once, but I attended a luncheon there with a group from the historical society, and they gave us a mini tour. The history of the place is fascinating. Seriously, you must check it out. The moment we get off this plane, you need to call and book a room. There’s not a lot of tourists in our area this time of year, so they should have a vacancy.”
“I’ll do that,” Madison promised. In truth, the place did sound interesting.
And if Angie from Annapolis was right, it sounded as if their reservations at the Presidential Hotel had just been canceled.
Chapter 2
Seated on the next-to-last row of the plane, Madison was among the last passengers to exit. She stopped long enough to collect her carry-on from the overhead bin where the attendant had stashed it, promised Angie from Annapolis she would look up the hotel, and hurried to find Genny and Granny Bert.
They waited for her on a bench in the concourse. Granny Bert people-watched as Genny bit her lip and studied her phone. Even from a distance, Madison could see the worry on her friend’s face.
“Nothing like bringing up the rear,” she said by way of greeting them.
Genny’s blond head snapped up. “I knew this trip was jinxed!” she wailed. “You’ll never believe what happened!”
“I heard. Our hotel burned down.”
Genny’s eyes widened. “How did you already hear? I just got the email. Was it on your news feed?”
“Who needs news feeds when you’re sitting next to Angie from Annapolis? The woman is a walking information source. Seriously, I think Reuters gets their information from her.”
“What now? I don’t know much about the Columbia area. I know some good hotels in DC, but the traffic is a nightmare.”
“Don’t worry,” Madison assured her, “Angie had information about that, too. She says there’s a place we simply must stay. The Columbia Inn at Peralynna, right there in Columbia.”
“I’ll look it up,” Genny said, already entering it into her phone’s search engine. “I hope they have an opening at this late date.”
“If not, I was sitting next to a lovely gentleman who offered us his yacht for the week,” Granny Bert said. “I have his business card here somewhere.”
“Ooh, this place looks nice!” Genny said with enthusiasm as she perused the hotel’s website. “Look at this.”
Madison peered at the screen. “Even nicer than the first hotel,” she agreed.
“At this point, anything would be nicer than the Burning Beds,” smirked Granny Bert.
While Genny continued on her phone, Madison looked around the airport for signage. “Which way to ground transportation, I wonder? Oh, over there.” She put a hand to her rumbling tummy. “As soon as we get our car, we need to find a place to eat. Som
eone I know”—she threw her grandmother a pointed look—“hogged the snack bag all to herself.”
“Hey, I shared with Gilbert.”
“Who’s Gilbert?”
“My friend with the yacht. Weren’t you listening?”
Madison wiggled her ear with her finger. “All I’ve done for the past three hours is listen. Angie stopped talking only long enough to guzzle down two Cokes, both our peanuts, and to beg me for tickets to the celebrity cook-off.”
Genny held up her phone. “Is this hotel okay with y’all? It looks pretty cool.”
“I can sleep anywhere,” Granny Bert claimed. “Give me a pillow and a blanket, and I’m good.”
“These pillows and blankets come with Tempurpedic mattresses and a five-star rating,” Genny informed her.
“And mystery,” Madison added, wagging her brows. “There’s supposedly a secret staircase or two, and a tie to espionage.” She said the last in a hushed whisper and a dramatic gesture.
“I always thought I’d make a good spy,” Granny Bert mused. “’Course, raising four rowdy boys, your father in particular, and holding public office for so many years, I guess I was a spy, of sorts. Just without the element of danger.”
“This trip is my vacation,” Madison proclaimed, establishing ground rules right from the beginning. “No danger, no dead bodies, no excitement. Just a few days of fun and relaxation.”
Granny Bert frowned at her granddaughter. “Where’s the fun in that? Sounds rather boring to me.”
“Exactly. Boring is good. Boring is relaxing.”
Her grandmother disagreed. “This might be why you and I don’t vacation together more often. We have vastly different views on what constitutes ‘fun.’”
“It looks like they have a couple of rooms available,” Genny said, still engrossed with her phone. “I can walk and talk at the same time. You lead, I’ll follow.”
After shooting off a brief text about landing safely, Madison gathered their luggage. She gave her grandmother an exasperated look as she slung the considerably lighter snack bag onto her shoulder. As she pulled their rolling bags behind her, she complained, “Either this suitcase got heavier or I’ve gotten weaker.”
“Give me that handle. I can roll my own bag.” Granny Bert took over without losing a beat. “And eat a granola bar so you won’t be so grouchy.”
They made their way across the airport, following signs toward ground transportation and the rental car shuttle. While they waited for Granny Bert to visit the little girl’s room for the second time, Maddy read a text from Brash.
To simplify matters, her fiancé was staying at the Big House with the twins while she was gone. It also served as a trial run for when they got married. His teenage daughter Megan was there, too, already claiming one of the third-floor turret rooms as her own. Madison smiled at his message, sent a quick reply with a heart emoji, and tucked her phone away. She could hardly wait for her own wedding, set a month after Genny and Cutter’s.
A little girl with dark braids approached Maddy with a shy smile. “Here, pretty lady,” she said, extending her hand.
Madison was hesitant to accept anything in an airport, even from a child, until she saw the simple drawing. A lop-sided flower graced a small square of paper, along with a few crudely printed letters. The scrambled letters—some drawn backwards, some in lower case, others in capitals—made no sense. Madison recalled countless such notes from Bethani and Blake when they were the same age as the little girl. They loved practicing their letters, long before they could spell or write their names.
“Why, thank you,” Madison said with a smile. “This is for me?”
The little girl nodded shyly.
“It’s lovely,” Madison assured her. “Thank you.”
The girl turned apologetically to Genny. “I don’t have one for you.”
“That’s okay, honey. I bet my friend will share hers with me. Will that be okay?”
The little girl nodded so vigorously it sent her braids bouncing. Without another word, she skipped her way into the restroom, almost colliding with Granny Bert.
Madison stuffed the note into her pocket and hurried forward to offer her grandmother a steadying hand. Despite brushing away the help, it took the older woman a moment to regain her balance.
“What’s the matter with folks these days, sending their young ‘uns into a bathroom, unattended?” she grumbled. “Don’t they know there’s perverts in the world?”
“Maybe she’s traveling with her father,” Genny suggested. “That guy over there with the dark glasses seems to be with her.”
“Then they should use the family restrooms or the ‘I can’t decide’ restrooms so he can go in with her.”
Before her grandmother could go off onto a tangent about the status of public restrooms, Madison urged her forward. “Let’s find that shuttle and get our car,” she suggested.
“Now that we’ve changed hotels,” Genny pitched in, her tone much perkier than it was this morning, “I can’t wait to check into our room!”
“See? All that worry for nothing. We got off to a rocky start and our original reservations may have fallen through, but all’s well that ends well. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“She’s right,” Granny Bert agreed. “Despite my granddaughter’s idea of fun, this will be a girl trip we’ll never forget.”
Chapter 3
As normal for February, the Texas weather turned with the whim of a typical Southern belle. A front blew down from the Artic, transforming the morning’s sunny sixty-one into a blustery thirty-nine by noon. The darkening clouds gathered like a pouting debutante, promising a cold end to the day.
“Not a problem for us,” Cutter Montgomery said with an easy grin. “We’ll be indoors the whole afternoon.”
Blake, Madison’s sixteen-year-old son, staggered through the door behind him, carrying the opposite end of a bulky leather loveseat.
“Remind me again,” the teen muttered. “Why did we agree to this?”
“Because you love Genny and you want to help surprise her.” With a charming smile that was completely lost upon his male companion, Cutter added, “That, and because I promised to reward you with pizza.”
“Plus, you took us out of school early,” Bethani chimed in. The fireman’s smile wasn’t lost upon Blake’s twin, who knew he only had eyes for his fiancé. Which was fine with her, since she, too, adored her Aunt Genny. It didn’t matter that there was no shared blood between them. Genesis Baker was family.
Taking her decorating assignment quite seriously, Bethani pointed to a spot near the fireplace. “Let’s see what it looks like over here.”
“We moved the couch like fifty times,” her brother complained. “Unless I get some of that pizza soon, I’ll be too weak to lift my finger, much less this couch.”
“Good thing you didn’t miss your math class, Mr. Einstein,” Megan deCordova snickered, pausing from her task of arranging bronzed western sculptures along the rustic mantel. “You obviously can’t count. You moved the couch maybe a dozen times, tops. And don’t worry. Even though you ate in the school cafeteria an hour ago, Dad will be here with the proper nourishment at any moment.”
Ignoring their banter, Bethani tipped her blond head to one side as she stood back and inspected the room as a whole. “Blake, scoot yours back just a little. Just enough that the leg of the loveseat is still on the rug.”
Megan’s auburn hair bounced across her shoulders as she nodded in agreement. “You have to anchor it, or else you’ll have a floating rug,” their soon-to-be stepsister explained. “We learned that on Kiki’s Kustomworks. This is definitely her best season yet, I think.”
Blake eyed the spotted brown and white cowhide in question. “So, in this case, you’d have a floating cow.” He turned to Cutter, his blue eyes twinkling. “Next thing you know, you’ll have the cow jumping over the moon.”
“My bride will be over the moon, when she sees this room,” the fireman predicted
. “In all seriousness, I appreciate the help, y’all. I told Genny the furniture was on back-order, so this will be a huge surprise when she walks in and sees it.”
“I know she’s going to love it!” Bethani clapped her hands together in delight. “This room looks like a picture in a magazine. And so does the kitchen.”
Her gaze wandered through the open arch, trimmed in hand-hewn beams, to the spacious kitchen beyond. The old farmhouse originally belonged to Cutter’s grandparents, but he had lovingly restored it to this newer, improved version. He managed to add modern functionality and style, without sacrificing the integrity or charm of the homestead. Long before he and Genny were an item, he remodeled the kitchen with her in mind. It even had her coveted warming drawers and soapstone countertops.
“I think we should call HOME TV, and show them what you’ve done with the place,” Megan said.
“Oh, no.” Cutter’s protest was adamant. “Absolutely not.”
“I agree,” Blake snorted. “Been there, done that. Don’t you remember the chaos of being on national television? The next time I’m on camera, they’ll be filming me on the pitcher’s mound, as the league’s youngest recruit in history.” He flexed his arms in a victory pump.
Satisfied with the throw pillows she had placed on the loveseat, Bethani straightened and patted her brother on the shoulder. “Twin,” she advised in jest, “you really do need to work on your self-esteem. You have so little confidence in yourself.”
Brash deCordova heard only the last of the statement, as he pushed through the door with two large boxes of hot, aromatic pizza.
“I know you can’t be talking to your brother.” His deep baritone boomed across the room as he carried his load to the kitchen island. “If there’s one thing Blake doesn’t have, it’s a lack of self-confidence. Your mom is threatening to buy him a cap with a stretchy headband, just to keep up with his expanding head size.”
Brash deposited the boxes and rubbed his hands together. “Man, it’s getting cold out there.”
