Tallulah wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shuddered as if chilled. “I’m Choctaw. My grandmother is a Medicine Woman. I see…things.”
“I knew you had Indian blood.” The cheekbones sealed the deal for him.
“Native American.”
“What?”
“The proper terminology these days is Native American. And it’s genes, not blood.”
“You just gotta correct everything I say, don’t you? Here’s another rude question for you. Why are you blonde? In my day, only the painted ladies changed their hair color.”
“Oh. My. God. You just don’t stop, do you? Okay, okay, you win.” She shook her head. “This is my real hair color. My grandfather was a German immigrant who went to Oklahoma for the land lotteries, met and married my grandmother, and had a mess of kids. My mother married a nice German man, then they both died in a car accident, and my grandmother raised me. Happy now?”
“Yes. Thank you. Was that so hard?”
She glared at him. “What about you? Why are you still hanging around here? Don’t you have a long, dark tunnel to go into and a light to follow?”
“What?” He had no idea what she was talking about. There were no tunnels in Hotel LaBelle, and the only lights were the ones he installed a century ago. “You sure do speak in riddles.”
“Since we’ve dispensed with being polite, I’m just going to lay it out for you. You’re dead. You don’t belong here. It’s time for you to move on.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Heaven awaits you. Or, whatever the alternative is.”
He sat down heavily on the bed, and the little dog yapped and jumped again. “Let me tell you how I got here.” He recounted his last evening in his office and the visit from Beautiful Blackfeather. “She didn’t kill me, Ms. Tallulah. She cursed me. I don’t know the exact words she used. I don’t speak Crow that well. For all I know, I’m stuck here for eternity.”
Lips pouted, she stood and reached for a shawl at the foot of the bed, snatched it up, and threw it over her shoulders.
“Don’t be afraid. I can’t hurt you.” He wriggled his fingers. “I can’t even pick anything up with these things.”
Tallulah settled back into the chair and arranged the shawl over her full breasts. A pity. He’d been enjoying the view of her chilled nipples straining against the thin cotton and the tantalizing scent of roses. He recalled the pleasures of a woman’s body, and Lord forgive him, this pretty little gal with the luscious lips was causing all sorts of naughty thoughts to run through his mind, like how he’d like to nibble that lovely, tender spot down at the base of her neck and inhale the smell of her sweet body until he got dizzy. Mouth dry, he licked his lips. And paused. Not once in the last century had he felt either hunger or thirst. He felt like a man in a desert—parched.
She knotted the shawl, gave it a hard tug, and grasped the turquoise pendant on her neck. “What have you been doing all this time?”
No chance of that sliding off her now. Doggone it. “At first, it was like I was in a deep sleep. I came to and watched my beautiful hotel slowly fall into ruins. It hurt so much, I tried to leave the place, get away. Can’t go out on the grounds. Farthest I can go is the porch. I spend a lot of time there, watching the sun rise and set.”
“I can’t even imagine,” she whispered.
Tallulah’s husky voice and her unsettling similarities to Mourning Dove stirred desires buried deep in his heart. He yearned for a human touch and ached with the need to be fully present. For now, he’d have to be satisfied with the fact that this beautiful, vexing woman could see and hear him.
“I’ve been lonely. No one to talk to, except the animals. They see and hear me, like your little pooch here. What type of dog is that anyway?”
A smile, a real one that went to her eyes, penetrated her serious demeanor. “A pug. Dog of royalty. Originally from China. The Duke and Duchess of Windsor had three and took them to social events with them.”
“She sure is ugly.” He patted her head and the dog reacted as if she felt him. Interesting. “But cute.”
“Tell me what it’s like to watch a century pass before your eyes.”
Her even white teeth nibbled at her lower lip, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. “I had a limited view, you know, from the porch. I could see the river and watch the animals come by. A great Medicine Woman once told me the plains used to be black with buffalo. She told me the herds would come down to the river out back, so thick you could walk across the water on their backs, but before I arrived here in 1900, white men hunted them for sport. All these years, I sat on that porch and watched for them, every day. Never saw more than a handful in all that time.”
Tallulah shook her head. “They were hunted almost to extinction.”
His eyes blurred, and he could barely speak. “Gone? All of them?”
“Not quite. Native Americans protested—a lot. Finally, laws were passed, scientists were called in, and the buffalo population is rising.”
He passed a hand over his face. Funny. Every other time he did that, he felt nothing. This time, it was almost as if he touched gauze.
“Why would people kill the food and shelter that supported the Crow and other tribes?”
She shrugged, and the shawl slipped down a notch, exposing her lovely neck a bit more. “Eminent domain? Selfishness? Greed? Arrogance? Ignorance? Cultural disdain? Hatred? Hard to know where to start or end the list.”
“A crime. The people responsible for it should be here with me. A hundred years gives you lots of time to think about what you did in your life. I wasn’t a devil.” He hazarded a smile. “But, I was no angel.”
“Well, Lucius-you’re-no-angel, I have an important question to ask you.” She pursed her full lips and considered him for a moment, as if appraising him and his worth. “Tell me the truth. Are you behind all the problems the new hotel owner is having?”
He jumped to his feet, and her eyes widened.
“The new owner? You mean the thief who stole my life’s work away from me and is tearing it apart? He’s a no good, rotten scoundrel and has no right to call this place his home. I built it, loved it, took care of it—and he’s ripping it apart.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Mr. Stewart, the hotel was full of animal droppings, vagrants, and graffiti. The local kids came out here to get high and screw around. He bought it for back taxes and put in a lot of money to clean it up. He’s trying very hard and seems quite sincere to me.”
He paced the room, running his thumbs under his suspenders. Franny trotted behind at his heels. “The man has no sense of history. Did you see what he’s doing? Adding ugly rooms, all shiny white with no wood, no warmth, no heart. Who would want to sleep in a room with nothing but white everywhere and bright lights? That man has put them big, flat, black things on every wall in this hotel. Talking heads, pictures that scream at you, how can you even hear yourself think with all those people yelling at you from the walls? And the bar? Did you see what he did to my bar? He took down all the stuffed animal heads my friends collected specifically for me! Why would he do that?”
“Mr. Stewart—”
“Don’t you get all formal with me. I know my rights. This is my hotel. I paid the bank off, and I have the deed.”
She shook her head, and the shawl dipped down another inch. “There was no deed found when you went missing, Mr. Stewart.”
“Lucius. Call me Lucius. I had the deed the same night I wrote my last will and testament. The night Beautiful Blackfeather cursed me.” Rage boiled in his chest. “If I had fingers that worked, I’d get it and show it to you.”
“Lucius, I’m very sorry to remind you, but even if you could get your hands on the document, you are legally dead.”
“I’m not dead. I’m, I’m—” He stopped pacing and threw his hands up in exasperation.
“In limbo. Where only animals and I can see and hear you. Ever since I arrived in Montana, I’ve been seeing things. If I were to tell people I saw and
spoke with you, do you know what would happen to me?”
He shook his head.
“I’d be locked up or drugged until I didn’t see you or any other visions again. My grandmother warned me. She made me swear to keep my second sight to myself, especially among white people.”
“Please, I beg of you. Help me save my hotel. She’s all I have.”
“I’m sorry, Lucius.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and she swiped at it. “In a way, I’m trapped in limbo too.”
The flame of hope that this amazing woman could set things right for him and undo this wretched curse flickered and blew out. His old friend, grief, overcame him, weighed him down, and pressed him backward into the wall.
“Lucius! What’s happening? Where are you?”
He closed his eyes and fell into oblivion.
Chapter Three
Tallulah lunged at the wall, feeling for a telltale edge, a trick lock, something tangible and rational to explain the man’s disappearance. Franny barked and yapped, leaping against the wall as if attempting to help her owner. Their efforts failed to reveal a secret passage. She plopped on the edge of the bed, ran her hand over the bumps of the quilt, and inhaled the heady mixture of cigar smoke, whiskey, and man. He seemed so real. Vivid and bold. Never before had she experienced a vision quite like Lucius. If he was this big in death, what had he been like in life? She had to find out more about him.
First thing in the morning, she was going to ask Will about the new rooms. He never said one word about them. Only an idiot would try to convert a historic hotel like this to an ultra-modern No Tell Motel. Was Lucius lying to her? What was she thinking? Ghosts were not reliable informants. They saw things as they were in the past, not as they existed in the present. Then again, the lingering glances the bold-as-brass ghost cast at her were not exactly chaste. She’d put the shawl on when she saw him staring at her chest. The chilly air gave her goose bumps, not the alarmingly dapper spirit with rugged good looks—and dimples that made her feel as if he was thinking naughty thoughts every time he smiled at her.
Enough.
She grabbed a larger sticky notepad out of her briefcase and jotted down a list of things to ask Will in the morning before she left for her meeting with Emma. Of all the hotels she’d been asked to save, this one was turning out to be the most bizarre—and its handsome ghost the most intriguing. She anticipated she would have difficulty sleeping after this curious incident of the good-looking ghost in the night. Franny, on the other hand, was already snoring.
****
Bright and early the next day, after Franny’s morning stroll, Tallulah and the pug found the hotelier in the kitchen. He held a cup in one hand and a small newspaper in the other. When they walked in, he stuffed the newsprint into his shirt pocket, poured Tallulah a mug full of hot coffee, and set a bowl of fresh water down for Franny.
“Smells great.” She sipped. “Nice and strong, just the way I like it.”
“These parts, if your coffee is bad, no one will consider even entering your hotel, much less staying at it.” He nodded at the large espresso machine. “We have a top of the line for more exotic offerings.”
She pulled out her sticky notes. “I have a few observations and some questions.”
He pointed at her and pulled his index finger back. “Shoot.”
She picked up a note and handed it to him, starting with the positive feedback as she always did. “You have a beautiful location. The river and all the wildlife give you a tremendous advantage over other hotels.”
Will stared at the star on the sticky note and smiled.
“The lobby and woodworking are stunning. The work and love that went into this hotel when it was built and your restoration of it shine through. It is one of the most unusual and beautiful properties I’ve had the pleasure to inspect.”
“Thank you.” He glanced up from the growing pile of starred sticky notes, a broad smile wreathing his face. “You said you had questions?”
“Did you show me all the rooms in the hotel?”
“Ah, you know what? I missed the one under construction.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Figured you didn’t need to see the mess.”
She studied his expression and wondered if the man really thought she was an idiot. “You have to show me everything, or I can’t help you. I thought I made that clear. You must be completely open and honest with me, or I walk.”
He glanced around the room, everywhere but at her eyes. He spoke to a spot over her head, “I’m a proud man, Tallulah. This is hard on me.”
“It will only get harder, trust me.”
She tapped the counter and pointed to her sticky note pile. “I have more of these, with frowny faces, the kind guests make when they have a bad experience at a hotel.”
He looked chastened. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure you see everything.”
“Good, I’m glad we cleared that up. Do you have photos of the hotel before you began the renovations?”
“Sure. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
Will strode out of the room, his cowboy boots clomping on the hardwood floors.
Lucius slid onto the stool Will vacated, causing Tallulah to nearly drop her mug. Franny barked with glee.
“Happy to see you too, little doggy. What’s its name?”
“Her name is Franny. What are you doing here?” She hissed. “Trying to make me crazy?”
Tanned, rested, and ready, how could a ghost look this good in the bright light of day?
“Who me?” He shrugged. “I love the smell of coffee, don’t you?”
Thank God she was fully clothed this time. Alive or dead, Lucius Stewart was much too distracting, with that all-too-knowing twinkle in his eyes that made her feel as if he was about to sweep her into bed. She rubbed her pendant, wishing it would make him disappear. He didn’t budge. “Shouldn’t you be haunting the attic or porch or basement?”
He grinned, and those damn dimples made her stomach flip. “Now what kinda fun would that be?”
Will clomped back into the kitchen, dropped a three-ring binder on the counter, and sat through Lucius—who grimaced in disgust, leaped up, and strode to the espresso machine. The hundred-year-old spirit pretended great interest in all the knobs and dials while Franny rolled over onto her back at his feet. Tallulah tried to focus on the photos and not the spirit who smelled like all the things her grandmother told her to stay away from—cigars, whiskey, and sex.
“This is the original owner, ‘Love ’Em and Leave ’Em Lucius.’” A grainy black-and-white photo showed the exact same man currently examining the high-tech coffee maker. In the picture, he held a glass of wine and stood with his foot on the brass rail that ran the length of the bar.
Lucius whispered in her ear. “Not my best photo.”
She swatted at her neck, and Will gave her an odd look.
“Fruit fly,” she lied. “They follow me wherever I go.”
“It’s your perfume,” Lucius breathed on her neck.
Focus, girl. Will’s attentions had been overbearing and annoying. Why did the same behavior from this spirit wreak havoc with her hormones? Did it have something to do with the fact that she could see him and no one else could? She had to ignore that melting feeling in her knees and be professional.
“This here was the bar.” Will pointed at the photos. “Everywhere you looked there was some kind of dead animal. Cougar, buffalo, deer, moose, turkeys, pheasants, and jack rabbits. The walls bristled with antlers.”
“A few well-placed pieces could add some ambiance to the bar.” She flipped the pages. “Right now, it’s pretty sterile. Did you keep any of these?”
“Against my better judgment, yeah. Emma insisted the spirit would be angry if I destroyed them.” He shook his head and his ponytail flopped back and forth. “Not that I believe in ghosts.”
Lucius popped up behind Will. Tallulah snorted into her coffee.
“Sorry.” She mopped at the counter with a napkin. “So where is this game c
ollection?”
“In the wine cellar in the basement.” He flipped a page. “Not that I have much call for wine. People around here are into micro-brews. I’ve got all the local flavors on draft.”
“That’s smart. Have you considered doing any co-promotions with the beer companies?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have the best relations with the townspeople.”
Lucius nodded vehemently behind Will and said, “Ask him why.”
Just what she needed, a ghost coaching her. Hard enough to focus on the work at hand when Lucius was around, much less with him talking to her nonstop.
She tore her gaze away from Lucius. “Why is that? People usually want new places to succeed, especially one with this much history.”
He flipped a page of the notebook back and forth and avoided eye contact. “I’ve run up a few bills.”
“How much are you talking about?”
“A couple hundred.” His voice trailed off into a mumble.
“A couple hundred dollars? Is that all?”
“Thousand.”
“A couple hundred thousand?” She jumped to her feet, and Franny yipped. “What happened to the bank loan? Where did it go?”
Will stared at that spot over her head and shrugged.
Lucius mimed riding a horse.
She glanced at the newspaper poking out of Will’s shirt pocket. The newspaper Will had been holding wasn’t the Billings Sentine. In fact, it wasn’t a newspaper at all—it was a racing sheet.
Fists on her hips, Tallulah demanded, “Do you have a gambling problem?”
“No.” He shook his head so hard his teeth rattled. “I can stop anytime.”
Lucius guffawed, startling Franny, making her bug eyes bigger and buggier.
Tallulah grit her teeth. “Will, you have a lot more problems than I can fix.” She grabbed her notes and turned on her heel. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
“No!” Will and Lucius shouted in unison.
Tears filled Will’s eyes. “Please don’t go. No more horses, I promise. This place is my biggest gamble. I’ve lost so much—I can’t afford to lose it.”
The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle Page 3
