by Zoey Kane
“It’s okay. It must be hidden somehow under the horses. We just can’t see it. Or it could have fallen out with the other part.”
Zo flashed the flashlight on the ground. “What’s that?”
They both saw it at the same time. A little piece of paper rolled and tied like a miniature scroll.
Claire picked it up and read, “He who finds the Moon finds Love.”
“What does that mean, I wonder?”
A floorboard in the hall behind them creaked. As a reflex, they turned their heads to look, and saw nothing.
“Okay, Mom, you did it. You creeped me out.”
Like children, they scrambled to the master bedroom, and Zo locked the double doors behind them.
They lay in bed with the sheets tight up against their necks. “This place never scared me before,” Claire said. “I mean, boards creak, plumbing makes noises; even rodents could be in the attic skittering around. All of that I have heard before, but at that moment, when that floorboard creaked, it freaked me out.”
“Honey, you don’t believe in ghosts…”
“I know. Precisely. Which means, I don’t want to hear anything anymore about your presumptions. Everything is logical. I can prove it. So, until I see Casper float in here through the window, I don’t want to bring up the word ‘ghost.’”
“That’s fine with me, darling.”
The wind was especially blowing that night, creaking the whole mansion from the outside in.
“We’ve really got to get a TV or radio or something.” Claire rolled over and shut her eyes.
*
Ring… Ring… Ring. “Hello?”
“Bob?” the female voice said excitedly.
“Speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Zoey Kane.”
“Oh, hi, Zo.” He didn’t sound too excited. He leaned back in his black leather chair behind his desk. He had a salt-and-pepper mustache and thick, dark hair.
“I have a story for the front page!”
“Oh? More newsworthy than the orphanage being granted three-thousand dollars by Super J’s Market?”
“Well, maybe…”
“Zo,” he said her name as if she were a child about to be chastised, “tell me your story and quick. I have a deadline, you know.”
“I’m opening a hotel.” He could imagine her bright smile by the tone of her voice.
“Did you buy the Easy 8 down the street?” He once again didn’t sound too excited.
“No, something way bigger. Way better!”
There was silence.
“Bob, you there?”
“Yes, Zo.”
“How about I take you out to lunch, and then you can come up to see it tomorrow?”
Lunch with a beautiful woman, with beautiful strawberry-blonde hair… he couldn’t resist. As for the hotel story… he could take it or leave it. “I’ll see you tomorrow at one o’clock.” He smiled.
*
Once Bob saw the massive mansion, he was in awe, just as Claire and Zo had been the first time they saw it. “You’re sure this is yours?” he asked, and his jaw dropped.
“Definitely. Here is the paperwork to prove it.” She was prepared for such a question.
After seeing the legal documents with her signatures, he instantly got on his cell phone. “Yeah, Sean. Get your camera and come out here at once. You’ve got to see this.”
SEVEN
The front page to the Riverside Bugle declared, “HILLGATE MANOR HOTEL: RIVERSIDE’S BEST KEPT SECRET.”
“Would you look at that!” The ladies at the neighborhood beauty shop talked together, their hair in curlers, sitting under their individual hairdryers. “Nothing this big has happened since Kenny Rogers stopped in town at The Pancake House.”
“And would you believe it?” one of them said. “It was Zoey Kane who found it and now owns it.”
“Her? The one that bought that box at the auction?”
“That’s her.”
A woman turned in her chair. It was Penny, with tin foil throughout her dark hair. “It can’t be true.”
The town was buzzing, all reading the same story. Calls came rushing in to Claire’s cell phone, which was the contact number for booking. Even those from out of town heard the news and rushed to reserve their spots.
*
“This is going to be huge, Mother.” Claire hurriedly applied blush to her cheeks.
Zo always enjoyed seeing her daughter on special occasions, such as Christmas or her dance recitals in high school, when she would doll herself up. She always thought Claire had even more beauty than she herself had at her age, and that made her proud.
Zo walked over to the master bedroom’s large window framed in stained glass. She moved aside one of the silk curtains to peer outside. Cars were parking, and people were exiting them in their ravishing attire.
“Claire, how did you get so smart? You knew this was going to be good for business.”
“Well, let’s hurry downstairs and host our grand opening.”
Zo made a grand entrance with a pause at the head of the stairs. She was in a late 1920’s champagne-colored, figure-slimming dress. It had a short train following from the bottom hem behind her strappy heels of the same color. Her wavy hair was adorned with a feather, which plumed from a quarter-sized pink jewel.
Claire wore a red dress, swimming in sequins, and showing off her back. Her hair was half up and curled at the ends. Her face glowed and her smoky shadow gave her big brown eyes some mystery.
Max was at the door, dressed in a tuxedo with white gloves, taking men’s jackets and hanging them.
There were the twenty rooms along the east wing, decorated and ready for guests. For those who wanted to go to the third floor to dine, dance, or play billiards, they paid an entry fee of two hundred dollars, which included a breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bar drinks were not included. The west wing bedrooms were each locked.
*
Claire entered the parlor alone with an overwhelming sense of happiness. She and her mother worked hard for months to set up their business, and the fruits of their labor were right before her, wearing stunning suits and cocktail dresses, sipping glittery drinks and eating ornate appetizers. It was all so pretty. Everywhere she looked were wide smiles and deep conversations. Her eyes actually misted up a bit, as she soaked it all in.
As she went to sit at a bar, her sights locked on a man in the corner of the room, sitting between two beauties showcasing their long, tanned legs. He was a blond-haired, charmingly good-looking devil—Jack. What on earth was he doing there? He placed a hand on one of the women’s knees, and Claire could tell he was working his wiles with full intent and effort. The one being flirted with actually batted her eyelashes in response.
Claire rolled her eyes. Not wanting her ex’s presence to dictate her actions or lower her spirits, she stayed in the parlor, sat at the bar, and pretended to have never noticed him.
Inevitably, moments later, a voice from behind her said, “Well, well. If it isn’t Claire.”
She turned in her stool to face him.
“I haven’t heard from you in over a couple of months or so,” Jack said, taking an open stool beside her.
“Jack, what are you doing here?”
“I came to check out the party. It’s the talk of Riverside. And beyond, might I add.” He chuckled.
“Okay…,” she said, nonchalantly brushing some tendrils off a bare shoulder.
‘“Okay?’ That’s it?” He raised his brows.
“What more did you want?”
“I don’t know… A ‘How are you doing?’ perhaps?”
Instead, she took a sip of her Shirley Temple through a little red straw, and stared ahead at the bartender mixing a drink.
“Why did you just up and leave New York?” He crossed his arms against the bar and she could feel him looking intensely at her, waiting for her to make eye contact. She could even smell the musky scent of his cologne she used to experience daily in his arms.
>
“We broke up, Jack. I moved on.” She finally looked into his eyes. “It’s nice that you should stop by to see me, but you know you and I are never going to get back together again. But do have some hors d’oeuvres and enjoy yourself with a game of pool or dancing in the ballroom.”
“Claire, what if I told you I made a mistake?”
“I’m not interested,” was her reply.
His countenance fell and turned ashen. “It’s your loss.”
“I know you’ve always thought so, but I don’t believe that to be true. And if you’re planning on staying here any length of time, you can rent a room at the desk. Oh, excuse me, I forgot that we are all booked. Just don’t loiter.” Claire turned her back to him. The nerve! she thought.
He walked around in front of her and moved up close to gaze deep into her eyes. “You should really think this over. I am where the success is. I have the contacts. What about your career?! Come back to New York and to me. We can do great things… together.”
“Like what?” Claire wanted to know what he thought that was.
“We can start our own business. I’ve been thinking about it, and it can work.”
“You’ve got money to do that?”
“Not all of it, of course.” He looked around at Hillgate Manor, drinking in its luxury and size. “We could come to a financial agreement and your investment would come back to you a hundred fold.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” and he moved in closer, resting his cheek on her cheek, talking into her ear in soft tones, “and then there is you and me. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Hey, Jack!” greeted a perky blonde.
Jack broke away from Claire with a look of surprise.
The woman said, “I worked things around tonight, so we can meet at Alexander’s for drinks and shrimp cocktails.” She beamed an excited smile.
Claire put an arm up around Jack’s shoulder and put her lips to his ear: “Get lost!” Then she moved away to walk up the stairs with a confident stride.
*
That night, as guests were leaving the party and others had gone off to bed, the mother and daughter relaxed in their west wing master bedroom, discussing the night’s happenings and the excitement of it all.
It was quiet, and the melody that used to play to them every night had stopped since they found the carousel. “He who finds the Moon finds Love,” Claire said to herself. “I think I’ve found the moon, but it hasn’t found me a mate, yet…” This brought her thoughts to Jack, and the many, even better, remarks she could have used to deflate his ego, and went to sleep on that.
Down the east wing, in the tenth bedroom, a young woman was sleeping with her husband, dreaming about the fun she had had this special night. Suddenly, her eyes popped open for no apparent reason. She didn’t have to use the bathroom. She was enjoying her dream. She had a sixth sense feeling that alerted her to the presence of an unwanted being. It reminded her briefly of moments she had been home alone at night, thinking an intruder was there, and when she would look it was only her imagination. Should I even look this time? she thought, afraid.
She gave in to the irresistible urge to look. Her head turned on her pillow and she opened her eyes again. To her horror, she saw a shadowed figure looming over her with what appeared to be a fireplace pick.
EIGHT
Claire and Zo were awakened by a shrill scream of a woman.
“What is that?!” Zo exclaimed.
They popped out of bed, grabbed their robes and flashlights and headed down the hall. Even though that scream had been so shrill, so icy, the adrenaline pumping through their bodies compelled them to run. They had to see what was wrong and hopefully be of help.
They noticed other guests coming out of their rooms. A crowd gathered at the tenth room. Zo and Claire pushed their way through, calling out, “What happened?” They burst into the room, and already about twelve other guests surrounded the couple.
“She fainted,” the woman’s husband replied.
“I can’t get the light to turn on,” one man called out. “Shine your flashlight on her!”
Zo replied, “I don’t have working batteries in it.”
“Mother, why would you have a flashlight and not have working batteries in it?”
“I wasn’t going to use it as a flashlight. I was going to club someone over the head with it. It’s my weapon.”
Claire shined hers on the fainted woman.
“I’m a doctor!” called a lady’s voice from the back. “Let me see her!”
They cleared a path for her and she went straight to the woman’s chest and nostrils to feel and listen for breath. “Well, she has fainted.” She slapped at the woman’s hands and rubbed her arms. Thankfully, the victim came to.
“Tell me, dear. What happened to you? An anxiety attack?” the doctor asked.
“It was horrible,” she choked out. “A shadowy figure, like a ghost, was in my room and carried what looked like a pick for a fireplace.”
“Oooo!” the guests responded. And much murmuring began.
One couple said, “We’ll be leaving within the hour. Have our bill ready for us.”
Zo and Claire were distraught. What could they possibly tell their guests? Claire announced, “I already have a call out to the police on my cell phone.”
Zo, surprised at her daughter’s readiness, asked, “You sleep with your cell phone?”
“And you use a flashlight as a club?” Claire retorted.
“I’m glad to see we are ready for anything.” Zo smiled at her daughter. Claire smiled back and chuckled.
*
The next morning, the Riverside Bugle’s front page stated, “Alleged Ghost Fright at Hillgate Manor Hotel.” The subtitle reported, “Cookie crumbs on floor show possible intrusion.”
Hillgate was quiet that morning as Zo and Claire ate jelly on toast in the sunroom.
“I think they exaggerated a little by mentioning the crumbs, don’t you?” Zo laughed.
“What a debut, huh, Mother?”
“Well, now that this cookie monster has scared away our guests, I am at a loss of what we are to do about this.”
Claire’s cell phone rang. “Hello?” she answered.
“Do you like scary movies?” asked a man’s voice.
“Huh?” Her heart skipped a beat.
“Just kidding. Just kidding. I was just interested in booking a room for tonight.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“Did you read this morning’s paper?”
“Yes, I did,” he replied.
“Oh, well, okay. Great. Let me get my schedule and put you on the list.”
After that call, it was as if interest was infectious. Zo noticed it had just turned 9 a.m. That’s when businesses do officially open, she thought. The demand was greater than the available rooms. And many people wanted to make sure that the third floor would be available for guests to drop by and play pool and dance.
“Mom, we have to make tonight even better than last night. We have to make up for it somehow.”
They sat in thought a moment.
“I know!” Zo’s eyes opened wide with her idea. “We’ll hire a live singer and band for the ballroom.”
“That might help.” Claire nodded.
“I mean, there’s not much else we could do…”
*
Serena DuBois showed up on a rush order to the front steps of the magnificent estate at about 4 p.m. Guests wouldn’t arrive until 6. Serena was a blues singer from Charlotte, very well known, having a voice compared to warm syrup by the media. She was part Hispanic and part French and looked as beautiful as a flower. “I’ll wear this for tonight.” She laid out a white, glittering, slinky dress. Her hair was already done up, with curls adorning her heart-shaped face.
“Wonderful!” Zo clapped her hands.
“We’ll invite the media tonight,” Claire said. “They’ll eat it up.”
But something very
unexpected happened that night—limos were replaced by multiple taxi cabs, hearses, and older cars in general. The ushers opened the doors to reveal witches, vampires and ghosts.
“It’s near July,” Claire said. “Did they mistake it for October?”
NINE
Zo had explained to Miss DuBois that the crowd had changed to a rather freaky crowd of “Children of the Night.”
“That’s not for me, Ms. Kane,” Miss DuBois informed Zo an hour later. “I can solve both our problems; my cousin, Fanny Gwen! She’ll be here within the hour, way before show time. Just pay her what you were going to pay me.”
“But…,” protested the confused and worried hotel entrepreneur.
“It will be okay,” assured the glistening singer as she picked up her bags and walked out the door.
Claire helped the next guest. The dashing vampire spoke, overemphasizing his Rs, “Do you have a r-r-r-r-oom, lovely lady?” He smiled, showing long pointy fangs.
“Let’s see, and you would be Count Dracula?”
“You can call me Lucas… Will you be coming with the r-r-r-oom?”
“Don’t bother with me, Lucas. I have tired blood. It will just run you down, and you won’t be able to go to your Socialist meetings.”
“No matter, as long as you have fresh blood refrigerated and ready to be served in iced goblets.”
“We have some very Bloody Marys, garnished with Tabasco and celery.”
“Okay, sister. Heavy on the Tabasco!” He winked, threw his cape around to the other shoulder, and walked away, key in hand.
A heavy woman entered the lobby with great drama. “I feel the trapped spirits in this hotel, even now.” She laid down, arms spread out. “I must commune!”
Bob, coming through the doors, stopped abruptly before stepping on the one who “must commune.”
“Just step around her. She is not presently available for comment.”
Bob immediately placed a call on his cell. “Bring extra video. Tonight is going to be out of this world—literally!”
