Page 4 of The Main Event

My response was automatic. “Jax. You can call me Jax.” In truth, when people said “Mr. Hunter,” I started looking over my shoulder for my father, and that wasn’t a pleasant experience at all.

“Jaxson,” Tammy said automatically.

“Jax,” I corrected again. “Just Jax. I don’t really like Jaxson.”

Tammy’s smile grew even wider, which shouldn’t have been possible. She reminded me of the Joker in those old Batman comics. Or a deranged clown. Oh, why did I use the C-word? Now I was going to have nightmares about clowns using Tammy’s voice and coming to get me.

“Jax.” Tammy’s voice was soft. “It’s a lovely name. I’ve heard it somewhere before, but I can’t remember where.”

“Sons of Anarchy,” I replied automatically. That’s whereeverybodyhad heard the name.

“Wasn’t that show fairly recent?” Tammy’s confusion was obvious.

“Yes, but I wasn’t named after that Jax.” The next part was embarrassing, but I’d given up caring about what people thought a long time ago. Or, well, I hoped I’d given up caring. There were moments I was still a bit of a worrier. “My mother named me after a soap opera character. It was aGeneral Hospitalguy.”

“Oh.” Realization whipped across Tammy’s features. “I remember that guy. He was blond.”

“Yes, well…” I dragged a hand through my dark hair. “You can’t control everything.”

Tammy considered it for several seconds, then shrugged. “It’s still a cool name. As for the lobby, you can see that great care was put into the details. The goal was to keep the historic feel but update everything, including the electrical.”

“Has the electrical been updated throughout the entire hotel?” I asked.

“Only half.” Tammy’s lips twitched. “We had to stop at floor three. We did it a floor at a time because that’s all we could afford to shut down. Then your grandfather stopped with the upgrades a couple years back. We weren’t entirely sure why—he swore it wasn’t a money issue—but he wasn’t forthcoming with the information.”

The way she worked her jaw told me all I needed to know on the subject. “He got sick,” I realized out loud. “The upgrades stopped about the time he realized he had cancer.”

Tammy looked pained. “We didn’t know it at the time. He didn’t tell anybody as far as I can tell. Well, anybody here. I’m sure he told his accountant or something. He was getting treatment and none of us realized it.”

“Then, six months ago, he must have realized it was terminal,” I said. I’d gone over the timeline multiple times in my head. “That’s when he updated his will and started planning for … the inevitable.” My stomach constricted.

I hadn’t known George Hunter all that well. When I was a kid, he was around more. I remembered him showing up for Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners. He always brought gifts. He was gregarious and loud, and he always fought with my father and his siblings. That’s what always stuck out to me. My grandfather seemed to be disappointed in all of his children. Then, at a certain point—I think I was about ten or so—he just stopped showing up.

That made things worse.

My father and aunts and uncles spent all the holidays complaining about how stupid my grandfather was. How weak he was. How soft he was. The disdain they had for him made me uncomfortable because I had always liked him. His softness wasn’t the detriment to me that everybody else believed it was. Plus, well, growing up in Boston, the notion of owning a hotel in haunted Salem was just a bit too exciting. To me, my grandfather had been living the dream … and none of us were invited to participate.

To say I’d been surprised when I’d been notified of the contents of his will following his death was an understatement. I’d assumed that the hotel would be passed on to my father and his siblings, at which point they would promptly sell it and takethe money. All of them thought owning a hotel was a terrible idea. They’d all already spent that money in their heads, of course, which was why news that they were getting nothing went over like a lead balloon.

The attorney who had handled my grandfather’s will was smug when reading it. He made sure that everybody was aware that there had been multiple witnesses to the signing, and if anybody tried to fight it, the attorneys were prepared to go to the mats … and then bill the losing party for fees should they try to take it to court. They were convincing enough that my father and his siblings thought long and hard about what they were going to do. Then they capitulated, which was probably the goal.

I still remembered the way all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when the attorney announced that my father was to get an antique watch from my grandfather’s estate and his other siblings all got one piece of jewelry as well. That was it. My cousins got money donated to charities in their names … and my grandfather had obviously taken the time to pick charities they would all hate.

My cousin Desiree, for example, hated dogs. That meant the twenty grand my grandfather had earmarked for her charity went to a dog rescue. She was so bitter I had to duck my head to keep from laughing.

When it came around to me, I figured he was going to do the same. He didn’t, though. Instead, he left me the Hunter Hotel and the rest of the cash he had at his disposal—which wasn’t much mind you—with the stipulation that I fix up the hotel as much as I could before making a decision about the future of the property. He didn’t insist that I keep it. Just that I fix it up. I found the whole thing fascinating. Everybody else in my family was a different story.

My father insisted that I needed to sell the hotel and split up the proceeds between the rest of the family. I wasn’t surprisedthat he’d demanded it. I refused to capitulate, though. I didn’t want to sell the hotel—at least not until I got my head around things—and instead explained that I was going to do what my grandfather wanted. I was going to fix up the hotel. After that I would decide about selling. For now, I was just excited to be here … even if I did feel in over my head.

As for my father, he wasn’t talking to me at present. Neither were my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I might’ve been upset about that if they were decent people. As it was, my current line of thinking on the subject was that it wasn’t any big loss.

“Okay, so the third floor,” I said. “That means there are still three floors to upgrade electrical on. What’s the quickest we can do that?”

Tammy cocked her head, considering, then shrugged. “We’re going to be heading into the busy season. I don’t see how we can get more than a floor done before then. Unless, well, unless you’re willing to shut down all three floors—which will mean canceling reservations—and just doing it all over the course of a month.”

The look on her face told me she didn’t think that was a good idea. “We don’t want to get a reputation for being flaky,” I said. “Basically, you’re saying that until Halloween is over, electrical work is out.”

She nodded. “Early November is out too. The weather is still decent enough to get some tourists. Treat the offseason like mid-November through March. Although … we do get a fair amount of holiday parties in December.”

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