by Hazel Holmes
“I alternated between being worried someone was stalking her, and worried that her mental state was deteriorating. I’m still not exactly sure what caused the break, but she seemed so rational when I first met her, so I’m convinced there was something supernatural going on. Many of us think the ghosts worked their way into their minds, driving them crazy enough to kill their children. I know it sounds unbelievable, and maybe it is. But I don’t know, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
Clara didn’t know how to respond. It was unbelievable. She suspected that it was difficult for Brittany to come to terms with the fact that her friend had done something so awful, so she made up an excuse that was easier to face instead. It would hurt less to believe ghosts were involved, rather than accepting someone she loved was cruel enough to murder her own children.
She understood it, but Clara had the benefit of looking at the situation without the innate bias the other people in town had. Even the most normal-looking people were capable of the worst things, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone shocked the world with their cruelty.
She wasn’t one to judge though, and she didn’t want to hurt Brittany further by invalidating her beliefs. If thinking ghosts were behind the gruesome murders helped her cope, then Clara wasn’t going to even attempt to interfere with that.
“That is frightening to think about,” Clara said. “If ghosts were the driving force behind the murders, I certainly wouldn’t want to deal with them. But that’s why we’re going to make changes. We’re going to infuse the house with new, good energy. Just wait and see. My husband and I are strong, we can take on any supernatural spirits.”
“I hope so,” Brittany said. “Now, onto better thoughts. It’s time to start the meeting!”
13
While Clara made connections at the book club, Ezra worked on bringing the remaining things in from their car; the kinds of special things they didn’t trust the movers with. It was a beautiful day, aside from it being a little colder than he’d like. It wasn’t so bitter it was unpleasant being outside, and the cloudless sky brought in some much-needed light.
With the mountains around him, Ezra could shake off that nagging feeling of his father’s disapproval and enjoy being here. Clara was right of course. It didn’t matter what his father would think anyway. This was what he wanted. This was what he loved, and they couldn’t have made a better choice for their family.
As he was bringing in a box of photos, a young man came walking up from the road. He was lean, tall, with brown hair that had just a hint of red in it, and freckles to further speak to his Irish roots. He waved to Ezra, then approached him with a smile.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Anything I can help you with?”
Ezra wasn’t a huge fan of accepting help from other people, but since Clara was making an effort to get to know their neighbors, he thought he should try as well.
“That’d be great,” he said. “I think there’s one more box left in the trunk.”
He grabbed the last box and followed Ezra into the house.
“Thanks for your help,” Ezra said as they walked into the living room. He put the boxes down and turned. “I’m Ezra. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nathaniel,” he replied, accepting Ezra’s handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been curious about who would take this place over.”
Nathaniel looked at the house in a knowing sort of way. It seemed like he was oddly familiar with it, as if memories were playing just out of view.
“Did you know the previous owners?” Ezra asked, curious but also a little reluctant. Considering the history of the house, he wasn’t sure how willing people were to discuss the past occupants. He figured this would be a good way to get a general idea of what people’s reactions might be.
“I did,” Nathaniel answered, followed by a bittersweet smile. “My father used to work here when Lyla and Richard owned it. He helped in the café, did some maintenance work, gave them ideas to grow their business. We were all close, and he loved this place like it was his own. I would come and help him sometimes, especially in the kitchen. It helped foster my love of cooking, inspiring me to go to culinary school so I could get a decent job in the industry.”
Ezra recognized the passion in his eyes. He knew the feeling all too well, though it had dimmed slightly in recent years. That kind of love never truly goes away.
“It’s a great place,” he continued. “When it went up for sale, my wife and I considered buying it ourselves. We spoke to the realtor and the bank about it and everything.”
“Why didn’t you buy it?” Ezra asked. It was evident Nathaniel had the passion for it.
Nathaniel shrugged sheepishly. “Didn’t exactly have the funds,” he admitted. “The bank wouldn’t loan us enough to cover the purchase of the property, and even if they had, we’d still need to come up with the added money to start the business. We’re both in our twenties, so though we’ve had some time to save, we haven’t had nearly enough to afford a venture like that.”
His demeanor fell for a moment, then brightened again. “But you know, I’m going to keep working at it. We still have a long life ahead of us, and there are other great properties out there. It’s a setback, but it’s only temporary. One day I’ll have my own bed and breakfast and it’ll be more successful because I didn’t jump into something I couldn’t afford.”
“That’s an incredible mindset to have,” Ezra replied. It was the kind of attitude he looked for as a head chef in the people he hired. “You’ll go far with that attitude and passion. You just have to keep working hard and never give up. I had my own share of setbacks when I was first starting out, but I worked my way up to being a head chef, even though there were times I thought I couldn’t do it.”
“You were a cook?”
“Sure was back in Chicago. I’m planning on opening up the café again so I can make good use of those skills. I belong in a kitchen.”
“That’s incredible! You worked your way up to being a head chef and then owning your own place. That must’ve taken some dedication.”
“It did,” Ezra admitted, though as the conversation progressed, he started to feel a bit like a fraud. Talking about his achievements as a head chef was one thing. He worked hard to make that happen. He gave up time with Clara, gave up sleep, focused on his studies in college, and suffered so many burns he’d lost track, to get to where he was at.
Yet when it came to owning the bed and breakfast, it didn’t seem right to be proud of that. He didn’t feel like he had put in enough work to earn it. His father had died, and it essentially was handed to him.
That unnerving feeling that his father was watching him returned. He got the sense that he was judging him for taking credit for a gift he was given. It was his father’s career that led to this, not his.
But he was determined to prove himself even with this. Sure, they were given the money to buy the property, but making it a success was a whole different story. That was something they’d have to work at, and they would. Ezra wanted to be proud of their bed and breakfast instead of sulking in this sticky fraudulent feeling.
“I admire you,” Nathaniel said. “And if you ever need any help around here, let me know. I’m admittedly a little bitter over the fact that I couldn’t buy the property, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting it to succeed. I’ve made so many great memories here, I’d love to see it come to life again.”
Ezra was drawn to the genuine passion Nathaniel had for cooking and for the property and was compelled to help him in some way. They hadn’t opened yet, so he couldn’t know for sure how busy they’d be, but there were a ton of things to do to prepare. It would be nice to have an extra hand to get everything ready, as well as someone who could watch over things when Clara and Ezra wanted to get away together.
“You know, we could probably use some extra help around here,” Ezra said. “Would you be interested in working for us?”
“Really?” Nathan
iel asked, his eyes widening in surprise and delight.
“Really. If you want to, of course. No pressure.”
“I’d love to! If I can’t buy this place, the second-best option would be to work here while saving up for my own bed and breakfast. I would put so much heart and passion into this.”
“I know you will,” Ezra smiled. “I’ll make some coffee and we can talk numbers.”
14
“That’s so exciting,” Clara said after Ezra told her about their new hire. “It sounds like he’s going to be the perfect person to help us with this endeavor. We’ve been needing someone on our side who’s familiar with the property and the town in general. The added insight should help a ton.”
“Agreed,” Ezra said, puzzling over where to move his chess piece. “I know the salary I offered is a little on the higher end but…”
“Worth it,” she said. “Good choice.”
Conversation paused so Ezra could fully focus on his next move. The game was close, they always were, and for some reason it seemed more serious here than it had in their apartment. There was just something fancy about playing chess in front of the glow of a stone fireplace. The royal purple walls added to the luxurious feel of the room, while modern furniture was a reminder of the world they left behind.
“I think I want to make this space more Victorian,” Clara said as she waited for Ezra to make his move. “I really want to lean into the old-fashioned aesthetic of the house. I saw some Victorian, purple paisley wallpaper that I’d love to put up. We could maybe tie it together with some vintage furniture.”
“Sounds like a thrifting day is in our future,” Ezra replied as he finally moved his knight.
“Risky,” Clara’s eyebrows raised. “But yes, as much as I love this house as is, I think it’d be good to get started on making some changes. Perhaps check out a few antique stores in town. I have a lot of ideas on what we could do with the place, and I’m anxious to get started. However, there’s more to it than that.
“I think there’s a negative impression of this house in people’s minds. Like, more so than I initially thought. Not only do some people think Lyla and Richard killed their children here, but at least one person thinks a ghost made them do it.”
“A ghost?” Ezra asked.
“A ghost.”
“Why would they think that?”
“I suspect it’s too shocking for them to come to terms with otherwise,” Clara said. “So, they’re making up a narrative that’s easier to cope with.”
“You don’t think there’s any truth to those rumors, do you?”
Clara looked up from her careful study of the chessboard to give Ezra one of those looks. “No,” she scoffed. “Do you?”
He shrugged. She looked back at the board and noticed her queen was missing. She froze. A chill touched on the idea Brittany planted. It couldn’t be…
“Are you sure?” Ezra asked. He laughed as he revealed her queen. She rolled her eyes as he placed it back on the board. “Because you looked a little spooked there for a moment.”
“There’s no such things as ghosts,” Clara replied. “The only thing we need to fear in this town are people’s superstitions.”
Clara won the chess game, so Ezra carried her up to their room like the victor she was. They got ready for bed, then crawled under the blankets together.
“I think you forgot something,” Clara said sweetly. Ezra groaned.
“I got the light last night,” he said.
“I won the game tonight though.”
The light switched off.
Clara and Ezra sat there in the darkness. They moved a little closer to each other, though neither of them would admit their fear.
“Very funny,” Clara said, keeping her tone lighthearted. She wasn’t sure how Ezra had managed it, but it had to be his doing. She chalked it up to him trying to scare her like he had with the chess piece.
“What are you talking about?” he scoffed. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. If you’re trying to get me to believe in the ghosts, you’re not doing a great job. You’re going to have to find another way to repay me for the chess trick.”
“It’s not funny,” Clara replied in a clipped tone.
“I didn’t touch it, Clara.”
They let it go, each believing it had to be the other person. They weren’t sure how they had done it, but the alternative was too much to believe.
15
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Ezra asked as he stood in the empty room that would be transformed into a café someday soon. He had come in here to think about how he’d like to set up the space. He’d have to buy furniture for it soon, and he had to decide if he wanted to change up the design or keep it as is. Lately it was difficult to plan anything though. His mind was frazzled and scattered off in a million different directions.
That day, though he tried to forget it, his thoughts kept going back to the night before. Though he was certain Clara was behind the light incident, he was still caught up on how she managed to do it. She was in bed with him when it happened. He knew she didn’t get up; he would’ve seen her. She must’ve have done it somehow and yet…
And yet she did seem irritated at him this morning when he insisted he didn’t do it. But he hadn’t done it, so she had to have done, right? Somehow. He didn’t know how, so he kept coming back to that. To the how.
His brain fumbled on a possible explanation, electric problems. Maybe there was something up with the wiring. It was an old house. That was a suitable explanation. He clung onto it. Yes. The wiring, it had to be the wiring. It was an issue of perfect timing and minds already filled with ghost stories.
“No,” Nathaniel scoffed. “Though I know a lot of people around here do. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Nah,” Ezra said, shrugging it off. “I was only asking because Clara heard some stories from the people in the book club she’s part of now. Apparently at least one person in town thinks this house is haunted. They think ghosts played a factor in the murders of the children who lived here before us. The disappearance of the owners. Made me curious.”
“That isn’t too surprising. Most of the people in that club are a bit… eccentric. Creative. I think you have to be a bit imaginative to enjoy reading enough to join a book club, so it doesn’t surprise me that they’re making up scary stories to get them through the winter.
“We’re not all like that though, don’t worry. Most of us are rational. Practical. We must be to survive around here. Winters get brutal, and even those who seem like their heads are in the clouds have good heads on their shoulders. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. In a few months, this place will be booming, and people will forget about all the previous owners and ghost stories of the past.”
Hearing Nathaniel shrug it off like that was just the reminder Ezra needed that all this ghost stuff was pure foolishness. Nathaniel was right. Ezra ran in literary circles, and it was common for them to look for the interesting tidbits and ideas among the more mundane aspects of life. When your head is absorbed by stories, it can change the filter in which you view the world. In good and bad ways.
“You’re right,” Ezra said. “I’m glad to hear you’re grounded in reality. That’s exactly what we need to make this work. I have a few dishes for us to try today. Feel free to throw out some suggestions or experiment a bit on your own. I’m open to anything that’ll make our first menu one that will keep people coming.”
They walked into the kitchen to go over what ingredients they had and started a list of ones they might need. Then, Ezra told Nathaniel about the dishes he already had in mind and listened to any feedback Nathaniel had to offer. Passions collided in wonderful ways as they discussed ideas. Finally, having found a place to start, they each chose a dish and got to work.
The next couple of weeks were going to be a process of trying out recipes, making alterations, pricing out dishes, and putting together a menu Ezra could be proud of. He couldn’t be any more excite
d to get started. His passion for this project overwhelmed any worry he’d found since arriving at this house.
They were tackling breakfast first, as that’s where their focus would be, especially starting out. Ezra started with a special stuffed toast recipe he had in mind with a homemade caramel sauce to give it that extra unique touch.
He started the caramel at a low heat, then turned to work on the other steps as the sauce simmered. He kept a close eye on it, but he’d made caramel so many times before that he had it down to a science. He knew exactly when to check it, stir it, and when it’d be finished.
He didn’t notice there’d been a disruption to his flow until an awful smell reached through his haze and alerted him to a problem. The smell of something burning replaced the sweet scent he started with.
He turned in time to see the pot blackening as the caramel scorched to its surface. A dangerous popping sound warned him to get it off the heat as soon as possible. Ezra listened to its call, removing the pot, and tossing it into the sink where it sizzled and steamed.
Flames leapt after him, grazing the skin on his arm. The burner had been turned on as high as it could go, which was absurd since it was an industrial fitted kitchen. Ezra quickly turned the stove off before it could catch the kitchen on fire.
“What’s going?” Nathaniel asked as he turned to him.
Ezra had to take a minute before he could speak. Anger was biting at the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out at Nathaniel. It was worse than usual because this wasn’t just any kitchen, it was one in his house. An accident here could have serious repercussions for his life. For his wife. He was furious, beyond furious. He certainly hadn’t turned the stove up that high, and there was only one other person here who could’ve.
“What were you thinking?” Ezra asked, trying to keep the anger out of his tone. He tempered it to some extent. It still took Nathaniel aback though.
