Snowed Inn

by Heather Horrocks

  The authors laughed, obviously enjoying my reaction.

  Dr. Ray stepped forward, took my hand in his and bowed slightly before releasing it, his manner stately and reminiscent of another era. “Thank you, Ms. Ross. I very much admire your Inn.” He took Liz’s hand next. “Ms. Eklund.”

  Calabria pointed to a man dressed all in black. “My stellar science fiction star from San Antonio, Texas. Mr. Garrett Long is the author of the very popular Black of the Night series.”

  The tall, slender, handsome man, about my own age, could have passed for James Dean, looking all grown up and successful in his matching jet-black jeans, leather jacket, trendy shoes, and sneer. He was in a black mood, too, if the frown on his face were any indication. Black mood. Black clothes. Black titles. He certainly celebrated the absence of all color. Or was black the presence of all color? I could never remember. Regardless, his image appeared to be cocky as he rested his elbow on the elaborate wood mantel above the fireplace and nodded.

  When he smiled, little crinkles edged his eyes, momentarily giving him a pleasant look, as he tipped an imaginary hat toward Liz and me. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Butler, Ms. Eklund.” He had a pleasant Texas drawl that couldn’t quite mask his anger.

  “I’ve heard of you, too, and I’m so pleased to have you here.” As in, please don’t find anything wrong with our play.

  After Garrett nodded, his smile transformed back into a frown. I could literally feel waves of anger flowing from him, and I wondered at the undercurrents. Was he mad at life in general? At someone in this group? The storm? The delay? Was he hungry? His frown put me off, as did his apparent rudeness and surliness. I realized first impressions could be misleading, but I didn’t care for the man.

  Calabria pointed to an elegant lady standing next to Garrett. “Alexis Cordova is a wonderful romance writer. Her books are very popular with all the signoras. She resides in New York, as I do also.”

  The woman put up a hand in greeting. She must have been five-ten and could maybe have filled out her doll-sized dress if she took a deep enough breath. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into an elaborate bun, with all sorts of twists and curlicues I could never have accomplished on someone else’s head, much less my own. She wore a tailored suit in warm, butternut tones.

  “And you have to really pay attention to her books, because her plots are complicated.” Nicholas Ray turned to Alexis. “I really enjoyed Love All Tangled.”

  “Thanks, Nicholas.” Alexis turned to me. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Her voice shook.

  Garrett touched her arm. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m tired. A bit of a headache. But I’m fine. Really.”

  These people lived all across the country, yet appeared to know each other personally. Of course, that made sense if Calabria got them together every year. I wondered if he ever took them to the same place more than once. Hey, an innkeeper could hope.

  Calabria smiled broadly and motioned. “Come, Bonnie.”

  The short, dark-haired woman packing a few extra pounds— the housewife of the group— smiled and said, “Hi,” with a cheery voice. Her black hair curled around her pretty face. She was probably about halfway between my height and that of my seven-year-old son, but confidence fairly shone from her.

  “Hi,” Liz and I responded together.

  “This little lady from the mountains of Denver, Colorado, is my leading diva in the world of mainstream romantic comedies. I am pleased to present Bonnie McCall.”

  “This is great,” I said. “I’ve heard of all of you.”

  Bonnie put out her hand for me to shake, again smiling broadly. “Always glad to meet a fan.”

  Liz spoke up. “You’ve got two of them here.”

  “I am always delighted to meet two fans at a time, especially two as cute as you. My best friends growing up were twins, and I’ve been to the annual twin convention with them. Have you ever gone?”

  We didn’t get a chance to answer, as Calabria put an end to the unauthorized chatter by ignoring her and continuing. “And my newest rising star.” Calabria’s features softened. “My newest author, BJ. She has just written her first bestselling romance.”

  It appeared the romance in their marriage was going strong, as well. That was always a good sign. However, they couldn’t have been married long, or he’d have been robbing the cradle.

  I didn’t recognize her name.

  The pretty blonde flipped back her hair. “Charmed.”

  She had an accent I couldn’t quite place. A small-town-type of accent the woman— girl? — was obviously trying to conceal. She had a sense of agitation about her, and yet something else, too, that I couldn’t identify.

  All at once, the authors’ eyes shifted behind me, to the main staircase in the foyer. Martha must have decided to make her grand entrance before dinner.

  But when I turned, I discovered it wasn’t Martha descending the stairs to surprise her brother, after all. Martha’s dramatic appearance would have been a good thing.

  This was not a good thing.

  No.

  This was an unstoppable force of nature.

  Chapter Four

  It was Grandma making her grand entrance.

  Grandma was dressed for the occasion, now more resembling a macaw than a parrot, a forties movie star in a knee-length, short-sleeved, white and black sheath dress, lacking only the feather boa. She wasn’t kidding when she said she packed for a party.

  As Grandma reached the main floor and crossed the entryway, I saw a woman trying to steal the show from our guest who had already proven he liked being the star. I forced a smile. “I’d like to introduce our grandmother, Mrs. Naomi Ross.”

  Grandma fluttered to a stop by Liz, as the authors greeted her warmly. I prayed she would behave herself. She said, “I hope I haven’t missed the introductions.”

  Dr. Ray stepped forward and offered his hand, quickly introducing not only himself, but the others. I guess he’d known Calabria long enough to know he wouldn’t repeat himself. Heck, even I’d known Calabria long enough to figure that out.

  Grandma smiled at Dr. Ray. “I’ve read all your books.”

  “And enjoyed them, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes.” Before I knew it, Grandma flapped a few feathers and was situated beside the good doctor.

  Oh my gosh, Grandma was on the make. Right here. Right now. Right in front of me. But, after all, Dr. Ray wasn’t quite young enough for a boy toy, Garrett was too grouchy, and Calabria was taken; so how much damage could Grandma do?

  “My late husband, George, rest his soul, loved this mansion.” And, just like that, she informed the good doctor she was available. I guess he was young enough for her.

  Bonnie asked me, “So what kind of books do you like to read?”

  “At the Who-Dun-Him Inn, do you even have to ask?”

  “Murder mysteries.” BJ shrugged. “Of course.”

  “She fills entire bookshelves with mysteries,” Grandma said.

  Calabria shot me a megawatt smile. “I have just the person you are looking for. A famous mystery writer, Clark Harmon.”

  “Clark Harmon? You’re kidding! He’s my favorite.”

  “Oh, sure, your favorite,” Bonnie teased. “Seriously, though, ask him to autograph your books.”

  “By tomorrow, I’ll have books for all of you to autograph.”

  Even Garrett smiled. “You’ve discovered our Achilles’ heel. An author will do anything for a fan asking for autographs.”

  Calabria waved his hand impatiently. “The tour, please.”

  “All right,” I said as I went into official Tour Guide mode. “We are currently standing in what was originally the Mayor’s Parlor, now transformed into the 1891 study of Sherlock Holmes, and where each evening, we host a game of Clue and serve our specialty, Murderously Good Chocolate Chip Cookies. They’re to die for, of course.”

  BJ said, “They sound delicious.”

  Calabria smiled at her fondly.

/>   I repeated what I told Martha about my great-great-great-grandfather originally building the mansion.

  “He must have been filthy rich,” BJ blurted.

  “He made a great deal of money in mining,” I explained.

  “And whiskey,” Grandma added. “Those mining townfolk drank a lot of whiskey.”

  “Whiskey?” Bonnie laughed. “Here? In Utah?”

  “Oh, yes,” Grandma elaborated. “Mormons are industrious.”

  The authors laughed appreciatively and I said, “William had a large family to provide for.”

  “I bet that’s an understatement,” Bonnie teased. “This is Utah, after all. How many wives did you say he had?”

  “Well, actually, only three.” Again, I left the fourth wife out. She took too long to explain.

  “My dear,” Bonnie took my arm, “We absolutely must talk. This would make a wonderful story.”

  “It’s a love story,” Grandma explained. She’d told this story to hundreds of guests when she and Grandpa ran the bed-and-breakfast. “…Between William and his first wife, Marissa. On the day they married, he promised to build her the fanciest home in the valley. Years later, he kept that promise. He was mayor of Silver City for years, and they held many official meetings in this parlor.”

  Bonnie laughed. “Did the mansion have a delightfully scandalous name? Polygamy Parlor? Too Many Wives? The More The Merrier?”

  “Plain ol’ Ross Mansion. Fifty years ago, my grandparents turned it into a bed-and-breakfast. Now it’s the Who-Dun-Him Inn.”

  “Such a wonderful name,” Dr. Ray said.

  Grandma murmured her agreement.

  Calabria asked Grandma, “Did your husband have more than one wife?” I looked at him in surprise, then realized from his smile that Calabria was teasing Grandma.

  Grandma laughed. “Oh, gracious, no. We haven’t had polygamy for years, except in those fundamentalist groups. No sister wives for me. Besides, George couldn’t have handled more than me.” She sighed. “He’s been gone ten years.”

  “Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” Dr. Ray commiserated. “My wife passed on five years ago.”

  Right then, I knew Dr. Ray was done for. He didn’t know Grandma like I did, but he could see something that I, as her granddaughter, rarely remembered— Grandma might be in her seventies, but she was still an attractive woman. Run, Dr. Ray. You’re starting to look like a boy toy.

  I pushed open the heavy dining room door. “Breakfast is served from seven until ten. Mr. Calabria has spared no expense, and all your meals are included through Sunday afternoon. Luncheon at noon. Dinner at six. Tonight, the dining room will become a four-star restaurant, so dress accordingly. Also, you’ll be seated at the large table tonight. For the other meals, you may sit at any of the tables, including the smaller ones.”

  Grandma looked at me sternly. It took me a moment before I got it. I didn’t want to admit I didn’t have a chef for the weekend, but I knew Grandma well enough to know that, if I didn’t, she would. “My grandmother is your chef this evening. She has cooked for many guests throughout the years, and I’m sure you’ll be well pleased with the results.”

  She winked at me.

  Dr. Ray said, “I look forward to sampling.”

  BJ pointed a long, red nail at the wall. “Is that original?”

  “Yes. William commissioned the built-in china cabinet for Marissa.”

  “What about the mirror?” BJ asked, pointing to the large, antique-looking, framed mirror on the other wall.

  “A later addition.” Much later. Like two weeks ago. A one-way mirror added specifically so the actors could watch from the kitchen and time their entrances into the mystery dinners.

  Garrett leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms, and chuckled, a not-quite-warm sound. He tipped his head toward the gilt frame listing the menu in the calligraphy that Ilene Jackson, owner of Knits and Knots, Silver City’s fanciest craft store, had traded for a weekend stay or two. “I see the breakfast entrees also have a detective theme. Colombo’s omelet. Perry Mason’s steak.”

  I could feel warmth flooding my face. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “With an imagination and a history like yours, you really have to write mysteries,” Bonnie said. “Polygamy mysteries.”

  “I could represent you,” Calabria said magnanimously.

  Garrett snorted derisively. “If all you ever want to do is write murder mysteries.” How could a Texas drawl sound so harsh?

  Calabria frowned. “We are jesting, are we not? Signora Butler will not write a book when she has such a wonderful inn to run.”

  The elegant model with the fancy hair— Alexis? — put her hand on Garrett’s arm as if to stop him from saying too much. As if she also heard his antagonism. She whispered to him too softly for me to hear.

  Garrett shrugged. “Why not? It’s true.”

  Hesitating, I glanced at the other authors, gauging their response to his palpable anger. Bonnie’s eyes were wide, Dr. Ray pursed his lips, Alexis looked even paler.

  Calabria bristled. “This is not the time, Garrett. We will have our discussion in private. Later.”

  Garrett took a step toward Calabria and the tension in the room increased tenfold.

  I may not have known what to do, but Grandma did, and she didn’t hesitate. “Gentlemen, I will have none of that in my dining room.” She used the no-nonsense tone of voice none of us grandkids ever dared disobey— and Garrett was no exception. He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Of course. Sorry, ma’am.”

  Calabria simply laughed, as if he found Grandma’s impertinence refreshing, and his laughter obviously ticked off Garrett even more. I wasn’t sure what he’d do now, but when he finally moved, he walked out the door and into the foyer.

  Crisis averted. Thank you, Grandma.

  * * *

  Wanting to give both men a few moments to calm down, I babbled on about the dining room table and the antiques.

  Liz caught my eye and shot hers toward Grandma.

  I followed her gaze. Dr. Ray apparently liked Grandma’s show of spunk, for now he stood beside her by the window. She motioned to different aspects of the room. There was another guide on this tour, providing personalized attention.

  Boy— or would that be boy toy? — when Grandma made up her mind, she wasted no time.

  As I led the group into the foyer, Garrett rejoined us, but steered clear of both Calabria and Grandma.

  “This is another of my favorite rooms.” I pointed to the words emblazoned on a fancy brass plaque on one of the double doors, and read aloud.

  PERRY MASON LAW LIBRARY ~ Los Angeles ~ 1957

  With everyone inside the library, including Tour Guide Grandma and Dr. Ray, I motioned to the full bookshelves lining every inch of wall space. “The same William Ross who built the mansion installed the first of these shelves for his first, book-loving wife, Marissa. This was, after all, originally the ladies’ parlor.”

  “Ahh,” Dr. Ray said with a hint of book-loving reverence in his voice, “how many books do you have here?”

  “William Sr. began the collection with books brought from England. William Jr. collected law books. I added mysteries.” I smiled at Dr. Ray, who for the moment, was not gazing at my grandmother. “There are fifteen hundred, with more mysteries, both books and movies, in each guest room, and starring that room’s detective.”

  BJ giggled, showing her young age. Calabria smiled indulgently as she blurted out, “I love the window seat.”

  I pulled back the heavy curtain to expose the fluffy cushions lining the two-foot recessed window outlined with satiny honey oak. Big, wet snowflakes were still falling outside, obscuring the normal view. I was so glad my guests had arrived safely. “This is a great reading nook.”

  BJ seated herself there and smiled at Calabria.

  Was it my imagination, or did Bonnie roll her eyes before turning to the others? “Did you hear Suzanne had a baby?”

  Alexis shook her head no.<
br />
  Garrett said, “Terrence.”

  Bonnie laughed. “What?”

  Garrett shrugged. “The baby’s name.”

  “You knew about her little boy?” Bonnie sounded skeptical.

  “Sure. She told me about five months ago.” Finally, he sounded genuinely warm, as he hadn’t before.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I just found out this week.”

  “She asked me not to say anything.”

  “Garrett, you are the most closed-mouthed person I know.”

  Calabria held out a hand to BJ, who hopped to her feet, and he motioned impatiently. “And the rest of the house?”

  The guru didn’t seem interested in the books, while his authors ran fingers along spines and pulled out old volumes.

  Calabria headed back toward the foyer, the wrong way for my normal tour, but I could work with it. I pointed at the semicircular counter. “If you need anything, at any time, just call and the phone will ring in the office here, the kitchen, and my living quarters. I’m sorry to say that your cell phones will not work here this weekend. The tower at Snow Haven was knocked out by a lightning storm and the repairs may not be completed before you leave.”

  “Have I told you that I have more authors?” Calabria frowned. “They are on national tours and receiving awards.”

  I felt as though he was dying to have me ask, so I obliged my wealthy, irritating client. “Who are they?”

  As he listed his other authors— romance writer, Diane Darcy, YA fantasy author, Bruce Simpson, and thriller queen Suzanne Noble— I realized I’d heard of all of them. Calabria was an important man. Worse, he knew it, and wanted every person around him to acknowledge it. I figured his expectation of hero worship would get old very quickly.

  Obviously, a few of the authors were weary of the routine. Garrett pursed his lips into a tight line. Alexis sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead. Bonnie crossed her arms and frowned.

  “The tour?” Calabria prompted me.

  “There’s purified water and sugar-free punch in the extra fridge in the kitchen. Feel free to have some any time you’d like, day or night. Or, if you prefer, there is also a Pepsi machine.”