by Ami Diane
Turning back to the entrance hall, Ella approached a large front desk made of cherry wood. An old Tiffany-style banker’s lamp sat on top, unlit, over a notebook. It felt like she was in a museum.
The wood plank flooring creaked beneath her, and she realized she’d left wet footprints across the floor, ending at an antique rug.
Ella hurried to the door and kicked off her boots. They landed with a thud next to a coat tree. She was swiping at the small puddles with her socks, when the sound of soft steps traveled from one of the hallways near the front door. A light flipped on somewhere inside as a man stepped out, silhouetted against the bright light.
She squinted and froze, mid-swipe of her sock.
His hair was disheveled, and his eyes closed as he opened his mouth in such a big yawn that Ella could see the back of his throat. He appeared to be in his mid-forties with a forehead that reached deeply into a receding brown hairline. Despite the hour, his eyes held a keenness that peeled away years.
“Hello.” His smile faltered as he took in her face. She brushed her hand over it in case she had something stuck to it. “You don’t live here.” He spoke with a southern accent. His voice became strained, and his features shifted.
She stepped on the biggest puddle and felt the dampness seep into her sock. “Uh, no. Nope, I don’t. Could I have a room for the night, please?”
He studied her. “No, sorry. We’re all booked up.”
“You’re full?” Her eyes wandered to the open doorways and intricately carved staircase. You don’t have anything open?”
“No, sorry.”
“Is there another hotel around here?”
“No, ma’am. This is a small village. You’d probably have better luck the next town over.”
Ella gaped at him. “I can’t get to the next town over. My car’s caught in a snowbank, and I’m beat. My phone doesn’t work around here. All I want is a place to crash, so I can call a tow truck in the morning. I can sleep on a couch or on the floor, I really don’t care at this point. I’ll be gone first thing in the morning; you won’t even know I’m here. I just need some place warm for the night.”
The man pursed his lips as if in a tug of war with the empathy filling his eyes. “I’m really sorry, but you shouldn’t be here.”
She narrowed her eyes in confusion. Shouldn’t be here?
“I agree. I should be home. In my warm bed.” She stepped closer until she could smell the minty toothpaste on his breath. “I’m hungry and tired. I’m sorry to be difficult, but I’m not leaving. I have nowhere else to go. It’s clear this town doesn’t like visitors. Message received. I’ll be gone as soon as I get my car tomorrow.”
He blinked at her then whispered in words she barely caught, “Keystone.”
“What?” She leaned back, wondering how sleep deprived he was.
He cleared his throat. “This town is called Keystone Village.”
“Oh. Good to know. Cute name.” Ella smoothed out her jacket, unsure of what else to say.
A woman’s voice floated in from the hallway. “What is it, Jimmy? Crazy Flo see a ghost again?”
The man Ella assumed was ‘Jimmy’ tensed. “Excuse me a moment,” he said to her.
He slipped through the narrow rectangle of light. A moment later, Ella heard frantic, raised whispers that grew to a crescendo before suddenly dying. Jimmy stepped back into the entrance hall, his face red as he gave Ella a tight smile.
Jimmy ducked his head under the counter of the tall desk, and she heard the metallic tinkle of keys before he popped back up.
“Here you go. Room seven. Up the stairs, third door on your right. Breakfast is at seven. If you miss it, Grandma Wink makes a mean scramble at the diner next door.” He jerked his head in the direction of the diner.
“Thank you.” Relief filled Ella, realizing she’d soon be asleep.
“How much?” She didn’t really care about the price. At that moment, she would’ve paid five hundred dollars for one night.
He waved his hand. “On the house.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t worry about it. Seems like you’re hard up, doll.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I insist on paying for the room.”
Jimmy’s face was a mask of confusion. Then, a light blinked behind his eyes. “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t mean anything calling you ‘doll’. Old habit.”
If you’re a century old.
“If it makes you feel better, I guess you can pay.”
Ella shrugged off her backpack and fished out her wallet. “How much?”
“Eh…” Jimmy’s eyes darted to the cherry wood desk as if searching for a number on its rich surface. “Sixty sound okay?”
“What?”
“No? Forty?”
“How much do you typically charge? Whatever the room is that you gave me—” she flipped the key over “—number seven. How much do you usually charge for it?”
He rubbed a hand over his thinning hair, causing it to stand on end. “Sixty.” The number hung heavy in the air, full of uncertainty.
Ella opened her mouth to argue but stopped. She hadn’t seen the room yet. Maybe it was crap.
He obviously didn’t man the desk that often, and she worried that she was taking advantage of his ignorance. She sighed, digging through her wallet; she’d sort it out in the morning.
Slipping out her credit card, she slid it over to him. Jimmy stared at it. “Er, we can’t accept that.”
Her stomach dropped. “You’re cash only?”
He nodded.
Taking a slow breath, she forced a smile and slipped the card back into her wallet. She only had a twenty dollar bill on her. “Can I pay tomorrow, then?” She’d have to hunt for an ATM.
“Sure thing.” He gave her a genuine grin for the first time. “I’m Jimmy Murray.”
“Ella Barton.” They shook hands, then she threw a strap of her backpack over one shoulder and headed for the stairs.
“Oh, Ella?”
She turned.
“Watch out for Fluffy. If you see him, don’t make eye contact. And for God’s sake, don’t pet him.”
CHAPTER 2
ELLA AWOKE TO sunshine pouring through her window. Fractals of light from another Tiffany lamp bathed the floral wallpaper like stained glass. Her backpack lay abandoned nearby. She’d crashed the night before not even bothering turning on a light.
Now in the light of day, she could see her room properly. It was spacious and tastefully decorated in a this-house-is-old sort of way. The furnishings were rich mahogany with a mix of early American and antique English country flare that would’ve made her mother drool. Whatever the cost of her room, it was certainly worth more than Jimmy was charging.
After throwing off the covers, Ella hissed as the cold air hit her. As beautiful as the old mansion was, it was drafty. She knew there was some sort of unsavory comparison between the manor and an aging lady of the night, but her pre-caffeinated brain couldn’t quite pull it from the air.
The grimace from the temperature became a groan as she pulled a sweatshirt from her bag. Apparently, her body wasn’t too fond of landing in a snowbank.
Ella lingered at the window and got her first glimpse of Keystone Village in the daylight—or at least part of it. Snow had fallen during the night and painted a monochromatic world outside.
The lake stretched before her at the base of two tall, steep hills off to the left. An evergreen forest pooled around the hills and flowed all the way to the park on her right.
Ella picked her cell phone up from the nightstand, her mouth turning down at the “no signal” icon in the top right. Maybe her carrier didn’t service this area. She just hoped this postage-sized town had a mechanic.
Fortunately, she still had a couple more days of vacation before she had to be back at the local university where she was a TA for Dr. Brown in the linguistics department, so there was no need to worry just yet.
>
Thinking about her job reminded her that she had procrastinated her thesis work all break and couldn’t avoid it any longer. The problem was she’d “accidentally” forgotten her laptop.
Although she loved her research, even she found the comparison of “influence of population density and social networks on phoneme variation” a little dry.
After wadding her curls into a bun, Ella stuffed her phone into her pocket and stepped into the hallway. She descended the stairs, following her nose to breakfast.
Voices and the clattering of dishes floated over the polished wood floor from the back of the inn. She picked the hallway just left of the study and wandered down it, passing a parlor and a couple more doors. She was just about to turn around when rows and rows of books caught her eye.
The hallway ended abruptly in a set of French doors with roses etched into the glass. Ella peeked through a non-frosted pane, spying a robust library full of leather-bound volumes. Trying the handle, she nudged one of the doors inward and poked her head inside.
Something brushed her shin, and Ella jumped, ramming her elbow into the handle on the door. The largest Maine Coon cat she’d ever seen slinked past her and into the room. He turned his beautiful green and hazel flecked eyes on her, purring softly.
Ella rubbed the blooming bruise on her arm and took a step inside. “Hey, buddy.” He meowed at her. “You must be Fluffy.” He butted his head against her leg in response.
“Now, why would Jimmy warn me about you? You’re just a big boy who wants some attention, aren’t you?”
He purred in response.
She crouched and stretched out her hand for him to sniff her.
With another mew, his wet nose kissed her fingertips before her hand buried in his soft fur. A deep purr rumbled through him, vibrating her hand. Just as suddenly, he batted her hand—claws retracted—and pounced at an invisible spot on the rug. Then, Fluffy rolled in a patch of sunlight, stretching his back.
“Huh, it seems he likes you,” a male voice said behind her.
Ella whirled around to find Jimmy standing in the doorway. Tugging down the part of her sweatshirt that had bunched up, she apologized for being in the room.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s why we have it here.” Waving a hand at the large volumes, he gave her another one of his genial grins. “We want our guests to feel at home.” His smile faltered. “Our long-term guests, that is.”
She tried not to take the comment personally. Picking off fur from her clothes, she asked, “Do you have many?”
“Many what?”
“Long-term guests.”
His eyes darted over the books as if carefully collecting the right words to say. “We have a couple of boarders, yeah.” Opening one of the french doors wider, he said, “Breakfast is the dining room. Come on, I’ll show you the way before Edwin eats all of the bacon.”
At her favorite word, her stomach rumbled. She scratched Fluffy between his ears one last time then followed the innkeeper out of the room.
Jimmy shot a furtive glance back at the cat. Ella heard Fluffy hiss before she rounded the corner.
“I’ve never seen him like that around another human. When he’s not scratching up the furniture or chewing the houseplants, he’s attacking the boarders.”
Ella chuckled. “Why keep him around?”
“We’ve tried giving him away, but he just keeps coming back, sauntering in like he owns the place. You know, I kinda think he does.”
He led her down a hallway beside the grand staircase and paused outside a large doorway. He excused himself, saying that he’d be in to eat soon, then left her alone.
Inside the dining room, three people sat at a large table. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the plates of bacon and pancakes. The setup reminded her more of a bed and breakfast than an inn, but she wasn’t about to argue—especially since bacon was involved.
Three sets of eyes shifted to her, and she realized she was still standing in the doorway.
“You must be Ella.” A woman who appeared about ten years older than Ella smiled. Her lips were the color of crushed roses, and deep brown eyes stared out from behind dainty, cat-eyed glasses.
She looked like she’d stepped out of a Leave It to Beaver episode, with sweeping, strawberry blonde curls, a floral patterned dress that hugged her waist before flaring out, and a Hermès scarf draped around her décolletage. “I’m Mrs. Jimmy Murray, but I’d prefer you to call me Rose.”
Ella gaped at her a moment, thrown by the Mrs. Jimmy part and her vintage attire. She recovered quickly and returned the smile as she sat down. “Ella Barton. You have a lovely inn.”
Rose thanked her and passed her a cup of coffee, followed by toast, fried eggs, ham, steak, and butter. “We only serve meals in the dining room when there’s a new guest,” she explained.
“Wow.” Ella eyed the plates stacking up in front of her. “That’s a lot of protein.”
After pouring a heavy dose of cream into her coffee, her eyes wandered to the other two people at the table, figuring they were the boarders Jimmy had referred to.
Just then, the innkeeper walked through the door, greeted everyone, then kissed his wife on the cheek.
Rose turned to Ella. “If you’re still here around lunchtime, the diner next door is open from eight to eight—unless the winds pick up, and Grandma wink closes shop to go gliding. The soda float is to die for, although my waistline doesn’t agree.” Her laugh floated over the table like the tinkle of a bell, infectious and warm.
Ella couldn’t help but smile.
“They also serve a mean mushroom burger,” Jimmy added.
“Horse meat,” one of the boarders growled. The woman appeared to be in her sixties and had never gotten the memo that it was the twenty-first century. Her white hair floated up from her head like cotton candy. Ella had only ever seen beehive hairdos in pictures, and seeing one in person was nothing short of spectacular.
Jimmy dropped his fork. “Flo, come off it. They don’t serve horse meat there.”
Ella remembered hearing Rose’s voice the night before, asking if Crazy Flo had seen another ghost. This must’ve been the woman who she was referring to.
“‘Course they do. What else they going to do with that old dappled mare on the mayor’s dairy? Hm? Or that dead cow in his yard?”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Bury it?”
“Wasting good meat.”
Rose cleared her throat. “I don’t think this is an appropriate discussion topic over breakfast, Flo.”
Flo lifted one shoulder in a shrug, the beehive shifting dangerously with the movement. “You know it’s aliens that did it.” She began to smear butter on her eggs and up her thumb.
Rose shifted awkwardly and shot Ella an apologetic smile.
Ella couldn’t resist. “Aliens did what?”
“For God’s sake, don’t encourage her,” the other boarder, an elderly gentleman, muttered under his breath.
Flo leaned forward, pushing up a pair of thick glasses that magnified her eyes. “Aliens killed that cow and horse, of course.”
Ella bit her tongue at the “horse, of course” comment and to keep from singing the theme song for Mr. Ed. She was really beginning to like Crazy Flo.
“Right. How do you know it wasn’t ghosts?” She tried to keep her expression neutral but nearly broke when Jimmy snorted and the other board groaned.
Before Flo could respond, however, Rose cleared her throat. “Ella, Jimmy says you got into a car accident?”
“Yeah. Not too far outside of town. Hit some ice then ran into a ditch. Speaking of, is there a mechanic in town I can have the car towed to?”
Jimmy exchanged a weighted glance with Rose. “Probably best to have it towed to the next town.”
“Detroit?” Ella calculated the mileage, shaking her head. “That won’t work.” She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.
“There’s Lou,” the other boarder said before Jimmy shot him a look. The ol
d man reminded Ella a lot of her grandfather. Thick gray hair swept back like a wave, surrounding an affable face.
“Not sure that’s a good idea, Edwin.” Jimmy’s grip tightened on his fork. “Lou’s slow.”
“Only when he’s drunk.”
“That’s always.”
“True.”
Mulling over her options, Ella took a thick slice of banana bread. It was soft and moist with a flavor that punched her taste buds and practically melted in her mouth.
“Oh, man. This is amazing.” She shoved the rest of it in her mouth and grabbed a second slice. A brief concern over calories flitted through her mind but quickly left with the next bite. It was worth it.
Finishing, Ella resisted the urge to lick her plate. She was a guest and didn’t want her first impression to be getting to first base with dishware. Also, Rose scared her a little bit. Not in a Stepford wife, murderous kind of way, but in a she-runs-the-house-don’t-get-on-her-bad-side kind of way.
Ella sat back, sipping her strong coffee and listening to Flo describe the best design of hat to make out of tin foil to keep the aliens from probing one’s mind. Steam curled around Ella’s face in delicate wisps as she tried to picture what happened to Flo’s beehive with said hat.
Her thoughts shifted to her car. Even if this Lou guy was slow, he was her best option. She’d go over to his place as soon as she found the bottom of her cup.
The thought of her crashed car reminded her of the reason for her crash.
“Speaking of snow,” Ella began, although they hadn’t been talking about weather at all, “I noticed you don’t have much here.” She thought specifically of the abrupt delineation between the thick blanket and frozen grass.
“Oh, that’s not true.” Rose busied herself with pouring more coffee from the carafe. “We got a couple of inches during the night. Must have come after you showed up.”
Ella grabbed a third slice of banana bread. “That’s strange. Just a couple of inches? There were a few feet on the pass.”
“The pass?”
Bread stuck to her throat as she swallowed, staring around at the confused expressions. “The mountain pass? You know, the Santiam Pass? For the Cascade Range?”
