Inn at Last Chance

by Hope Ramsay

  “Well, er, ah… the truth is I’m letting him stay for free right at the moment, as a goodwill gesture because he’s agreed to help with the library and the house is not ready for guests. And he used to own the house, Wilma, that should count for something. And he broke his ankle out in my driveway. I couldn’t let him stay at the Peach Blossom Motor Court.”

  “You’re letting him stay for free?” Wilma’s eyes rolled. “Jenny Carpenter, you are not in business to please obnoxious members of the opposite sex. You are a businesswoman. You need to remember that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jenny said, nodding. It was the best way to get Wilma off her high horse. And in truth, Wilma had a point, but Jenny had already decided not to charge Mr. Raintree, and she wasn’t going back on that decision. She gave Wilma a smile that was intended to disarm her, then put Savannah’s strudel down on the counter. “Ladies, Savannah has just brought one of her delicious strudels. Who wants a piece?”

  Thank goodness for Savannah’s strudel. It immediately changed the tone of the gathering. Jenny got out some more paper plates, and Savannah started slicing. Elsie got a couple of folding chairs from the front room, and suddenly the sewing circle meeting had turned into an interfaith coffee klatch.

  “So,” Miriam said as she wandered over to the back window, “where is Mr. Raintree?”

  “He went out the back with the dog,” Wilma said.

  “Ah, so he did.” Miriam stood at the window obviously taking the measure of Jenny’s famous guest. “I caught a glimpse of him at the Kountry Kitchen the other day. He’s quite impressive, isn’t he?”

  “Who, Mr. Raintree or the dog?” Wilma asked.

  Miriam laughed and turned away from the window. “I think they’re a matched set.”

  Wilma nodded. “I knew it. I knew that dog wasn’t really yours, Jenny.”

  Jenny sighed. “The dog is a stray. He turned up here a few days ago. Mr. Raintree has named him Bear and taken him to the vet, so I suppose he’s taken ownership. But I wouldn’t say he has title free and clear.”

  “Hmm, that’s interesting,” Miriam said.

  “What is?”

  “He named the dog Bear? I believe his brother once had a dog named Bear. Poor thing got left behind when Luke was killed. I think Zeph Gibbs ended up taking care of the dog. He lived a long time, as I recall, always following Zeph like a shadow everywhere he went.” The old lady turned and peered through the window for a long moment. “It’s uncanny how much Gabe looks like his grandfather. Governor Raintree was also a very impressive man. But kind of hard, if you know what I mean. Well, at least he became hard after his son died in that boating accident. George was grooming his son to become president of the United States. And I reckon when his son died, he put all his energies into his grandsons.”

  Miriam finally gave up staring through the window. She turned and sat down in one of the folding chairs Elsie had just brought in. Then she accepted a plate of strudel as if she were royalty.

  Which was almost true. Miriam Randall was the matchmaker in Last Chance, and legend had it that her marital forecasts never went awry. Those whom Miriam matched stayed matched for life. So naturally she was a true celebrity in Allenberg County. For just about everyone except Wilma Riley.

  Savannah took her aunt’s place at the back window, but when she peered through the pane, she let go of an audible gasp as if she’d just seen a snake or a gator or something. She took two quick steps back from the window.

  “What is it? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Jenny said.

  Savannah turned away from the window with a patently phony smile plastered on her face. “Nothing at all. Gabriel Raintree just isn’t what I was expecting.”

  “Me neither,” Miriam said. “He’s grown some since I last set eyes on him. But enough about your guest. The truth is, Jenny, I was curious about him, but I really came here to talk with you about something.”

  The air in the kitchen suddenly became almost too thick to breathe. Allenberg’s most famous matchmaker had taken time out of her Saturday routine to visit Jenny?

  And she’d come when Wilma was visiting. Oh, boy.

  “Honey,” Miriam said, without further preamble. “I know Bill Ellis was a huge disappointment. But you need to understand that you and he were never meant to be.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I know that.” This was incredibly embarrassing.

  “She’s well rid of him,” Wilma said, planting her fists on her boy-slim hips.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way,” Miriam said. “But it would have been a mistake if she and Bill had ended up together.” Miriam turned away from Wilma. “Jenny, honey, you need to be patient. One day, a handsome man is going to come into your life, and you’ll understand why Bill was not the man for you.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Sabina said in a voice that sounded much too young for her thirty-five years. “It’s an omen, I know it is. It means you and Timothy Lake were made for each other.”

  “Timothy Lake?” Savannah asked.

  “Our new preacher now that Pastor Mike has gone off to Charleston,” Elsie said.

  “And he’s to-die-for handsome,” Sabina added.

  Miriam said, “Well, isn’t that nice,” while Wilma looked daggers at the old lady and muttered, “Oh, brother, here we go again.”

  Gabe watched Bear as he marked his territory along the boundaries of the backyard. He was feeling a little guilty for having disavowed the dog. He couldn’t even explain why he’d done it, except that the woman poking his chest had annoyed him.

  That, and he wanted to see Jenny’s reaction. He had to admit that the little innkeeper was adorable when she got angry. The outrage on her face was practically delicious. Jenny had opened her mouth and was about to say something profane. He had a feeling it would be entertaining, especially if she’d unleashed a torrent of cuss words in front of her friends. Too bad Miriam Randall interrupted, because Jenny was at her best when she spoke her mind.

  He turned his face toward the sun and soaked up the warmth. He’d been cold for days. But out here, the cold had broken. The ice had melted, leaving behind mud and puddles. Bear was enjoying the thaw with his big nose glued to the ground. He’d need a bath by the time he was done scenting out all the interesting things in the yard.

  Gabe watched the dog for a long moment, enjoying his company, when, quite abruptly, Bear sat down, cocked his head, and gave a little half bark, behaving as if someone unseen had commanded him to sit. The dog sat at attention, his gaze focused on one particularly large rhododendron.

  Gabe hobbled across the yard toward the dog. “What is it, boy?”

  The dog made no response to his question. He didn’t even look in Gabe’s direction, which was odd. Gabe followed the dog’s gaze, sure he’d find Zeph lurking in the bushes. But if Zeph was hiding in there, he was doing a masterful job of it.

  Gabe was thinking about limping over to the rhododendron and having a closer look when the hinges on the back door squealed. The noise must have flushed whatever critter Bear had been staring at because he took off like a rocket, disappearing quickly into the rhododendrons’ dark, shiny foliage.

  “Wait, Bear,” Gabe called, as he tried to run after the dog. He managed two awkward, painful steps before he realized the futility of trying to follow.

  “You let him out without a leash?”

  Gabe looked over his shoulder. Jenny stood there with arms akimbo, her navy blue cardigan buttoned all the way up her front. She wore a pair of baggy khakis and an utterly adorable scowl on her face.

  “Of course I did. We’ve been fine up to now. In fact, Bear and I have made countless trips to the woodpile over the last few days because your heating system is on the fritz. He’s never run away before.”

  “Oh, my God. He’s a stray. Of course he’s run away before. Otherwise how did he get to be a stray in the first place? I mean, he looks like a purebred mastiff. He must have belonged to someone before he came here.”

  �
�Probably someone who abused or neglected him. How do I know it wasn’t you?” He said the last bit just to get her goat.

  “Don’t. You know good and well that I didn’t even know Bear existed until Wednesday, when he knocked you down. I’m sorry he did that, but it wasn’t my fault. Clearly we’re going to have to teach him some manners if you plan to stay here for the next three months. Knocking people over has become something of a habit. Wilma is furious. And I want to avoid lawsuits if at all possible.”

  “We need to teach him?” Somehow he found that particular pronoun both surprising and thrilling.

  She startled as if he’d slapped her across the face. Color crept up her cheeks. “What I should have said is that I need to teach him, since you just told the world that Bear belongs to me.”

  “I didn’t tell the world. Just a group of annoyingly loud females.”

  “Mr. Raintree, those annoyingly loud females are members of the Methodist and Episcopalian congregations in this town. And Wilma is a card-carrying member of the ASPCA. If you say something to those women, it’s like broadcasting it on CNN.”

  She paused a moment and eyed his cast, then looked out at the woods’ undergrowth. “Bear,” she called, “come here, boy.”

  “He’s long gone, I’m afraid,” Gabe said.

  “Great, my day has just come unraveled because of you. The minute I tell Wilma what’s happened she’s going to want to organize the entire sewing circle into a doggie search-and-rescue operation. Which means my curtains will never get done.”

  She turned on her heel. She was utterly breathtaking in her fury.

  “So don’t tell her,” Gabe suggested in a calm voice.

  Jenny whirled around. “Don’t tell her? You mean just let Bear wander in the woods by his lonesome?”

  “He’ll come back. We’ve got the food, and he’s perpetually hungry.”

  “That’s a terrible attitude, you know?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a realistic attitude. Your sewing club ladies have no business tracking him through the swamp.”

  “You’re probably right about that. But someone’s got to look for him. You think you could manage?”

  “Not in a cast.”

  She smiled. For some reason, it seemed to delight her that there was something he couldn’t quite manage for himself. She was a funny, interesting woman.

  “I’m sorry about Bear,” he said. “But before you run off looking for him, I need to ask you a question about something. This is a hard question. I’m not sure how to ask it without sounding like a crazy wacko.”

  She gave him a direct, no-bull kind of look. It had been a long time since he’d met anyone who didn’t try to suck up to him, or get on his good side, or ask him for an introduction to his editor. “Mr. Raintree, I’ve read one of your books, and as far as I’m concerned you are a crazy wacko. What is it that you want? And make it quick. I need to go after the dog.”

  “Have you ever had any odd experiences here at The Jonquil House? Anything you couldn’t quite explain?”

  “Are you looking for plot suggestions? Honestly…” She turned.

  “No, wait. This has nothing to do with my book. And how did you know I was thinking about writing a haunted house story?”

  She turned back toward him. “I didn’t know. I just thought, well… I mean there are all kinds of rumors about The Jonquil House, you know. About how it’s haunted.”

  “And you believe them?”

  “Of course not. But surely…”

  “I asked you about strange happenings not because I think the place is haunted, but because I’m concerned. Or maybe I’m paranoid. I think someone is playing tricks on me.”

  “Tricks? How so?”

  “Someone is coming into my room and deleting files on my computer while I’m asleep. To be honest, I haven’t entirely ruled you out as the culprit. On Thursday night, I lost three thousand words.”

  “I did not sneak into your room and delete your files.”

  “I didn’t say you did. I only said you were the most likely suspect. But there could be others.”

  “I’m finding this hard to believe, Mr. Raintree.”

  “The first night—Thursday—I inadvertently left the back door unlocked. But last night I double-checked to make sure everything was locked up tight, including my own bedroom door. And the same thing happened. So I’m wondering, does someone other than you have keys to the house?”

  “No. Just you and me. And I can’t imagine anyone sneaking in here with Bear. He barks at strangers. So I hope you’ll forgive me if I ask you how much pain medication you’ve been taking.”

  “I’ve stopped taking meds, and I’m trying to sort out whether this is someone who has it out for me or someone who is unhappy with you. Have you had anything odd happen?”

  She blinked at him from behind her owlish glasses. Her face had grown pale. “Actually, something strange did happen. But I thought it was a dream.”

  “What?”

  “On the night of the ice storm, I was reading in bed and I fell asleep and had a strange dream. When I woke up, the window was open, and rain was coming in. That was strange, because I could have sworn the window was locked from the inside. I tried to close it, but I couldn’t make it budge even though it’s a brand-new window that shouldn’t be sticking. I finally gave up and went to the front room, started a fire, and slept the rest of the night on the floor. But in the morning when I went into the bedroom, the window was closed and locked from the inside, and there wasn’t any sign that it had rained into the house. I’m pretty sure I dreamed the whole thing, if you must know.”

  “Are you sure no one else has keys to the house? Someone like maybe Zeph Gibbs?” he said, one worry replacing another. If she had intruders in the house before he moved in, then this wasn’t a case where his problems had followed him to Last Chance. But the unknown dangers were always more frightening than the ones you’d grown accustomed to.

  “I think someone is messing with us,” he said.

  “What? No. What are you suggesting?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s possible that Zeph came into the house and closed the window for you.”

  “In the middle of the storm? But how did the window get open in the first place? And he doesn’t have keys.”

  “I can think of a lot of ways he might have gotten in. You don’t have dead bolts on the doors.”

  “I don’t need dead bolts. This is Last Chance, South Carolina, not some big city. And Zeph Gibbs is a little odd, but I don’t think he’s—”

  “Did anyone lose this critter?” The voice interrupted Jenny before she could finish her thought. And just like that Zeph Gibbs materialized from out of the same bushes where, a moment ago, the dog had vanished. As usual, Zeph was carrying a shotgun. But this time he was also leading Bear on a short red leash.

  Jenny and Gabe turned in unison as Zeph crossed the yard. He led the dog past Gabe and placed the leash into Jenny’s slender hand. “Miz Jenny, you need to keep this dog on a leash when he’s outside. I think he’s got a wandering soul, if you know what I mean.”

  Gabe didn’t know Jenny all that well, but he was certain she didn’t trust the old man, even though she’d spoken up in his defense.

  Zeph turned toward him and gave him a hard stare. “Boy,” he said in that voice that used to make him jump when he was a child, “I’m going to tell you one more time. You need to get out of here. It’s not safe for you to stay here. You may not believe in ghosts but that don’t mean nothing if they believe in you.”

  And with that, Zeph nodded toward Jenny then turned and glided back into the woods on a pair of surprisingly quiet boots.

  “I would not trust that man,” Gabe said. “He’s trying to make us think there’s a real ghost living in this house, and we both know that ghosts aren’t real. Promise me you’ll get the locks changed.”

  “All right. I’ll call the locksmith right away. I knew he didn’t want the house renovated, but I’ve never
thought he was dangerous. You think I should talk to Sheriff Rhodes about him?”

  “If I were you, I’d talk to the sheriff right away.”

  CHAPTER

  7

  The sun set early this time of year, but Zeph wasn’t much troubled by the darkness. He never had been for some reason. In Vietnam the darkness could be terrifying, but it could also be a friend.

  He stood in the deep shadows of a thirty-foot magnolia tree, his hands jammed into the pockets of his coat, his collar turned up against the cold. He studied the front door of the house on Maple Street. The sight was more than familiar. Coming here was like a compulsion. It was something he fought with all his willpower. But sometimes, when the loneliness of his life overwhelmed him, he would come right here and watch until she turned off her lights and settled down for the night. And sometimes he even stood here in the darkness.

  But tonight was different. Tonight he needed to do more than stand in the shadows. He needed to act.

  Lives hung in the balance.

  He walked with a measured pace up the front porch steps and stood at the door, his heart racing, his stomach doing backflips, his hands slightly sweaty even on this cold night.

  He knocked. He waited. The door opened.

  “Why, Zeph Gibbs, what brings you to my door?” Nita’s voice was library-soft, the way it always was.

  “Ma’am,” he managed before his throat closed up.

  “C’mon in, Zeph, it’s freezing out there. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something? I’ve got some cookies I just made for the grandchildren.”

  He hauled in a deep breath. The chocolate aroma coming from her door was as seductive as anything Zeph could imagine. How long had it been since he’d eaten a home-baked cookie? A long time. He wanted one. But he knew he couldn’t take one.

  “Uh, no, ma’am, I just needed to stop by and ask you, please, not to encourage Gabe to stay in Last Chance.”

  “Gabe? You mean Mr. Raintree?”