Page 8 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

Rory knew his granddad would like that. Like he was undercover or something. But he didn’t want to share too much. “I need a break from all the excitement of touring. I plan to write some new songs. I need somewhere calm and quiet for that.”

“And you came to Hazard?”

“Nothing happens in Hazard.”

Seymour gave him a long perusal, and his mouth twitched like he thought the comment was funny. He pursed his lips in thought. “Hmm, staying at Agate Point? This might not be the place for you.” His granddad blinked like he’d just had an idea.

Rory frowned, suspicious, but he wasn’t quite sure how he was being played.

“I have the perfect solution.”

“Wait, I want to stay with you, spend time with you.”

“Of course, and you will. We’ll have lots of time.” Seymour patted his arm.

Rory let out a relieved sigh. For a moment it sounded like he was being pawned off. He certainly hadn’t come back to spend time with nutty Hazel or officious Lydia or vague Marjorie.

“But I could use some help. I have some old furnishings that need to go to the new innkeeper, pieces from the eighteenth century. Lydia told me the new innkeeper needs them. And they don’t fit into a home as modern as Agate Point.”

Rory blinked at the mansion being described as modern, but maybe in comparison to the creepy old Hazard Inn it was.

“You can help me load them into the U-Haul I picked up, and we can drive them over.

“U-Haul?”

“It’s out back. I cleared out the colonial furniture from the lower two floors to go back to the inn. Then I moved all the historically accurate furniture down from the third floor to make room for my new furniture.”

“New furniture.” Rory tried to wrap his brain around that. There had always been an overabundance of furniture in the mansion, furniture that his grandmother had loved.

“I’ve decided to be comfortable. It was Margot who loved the antiques. I’m ready to upgrade.”

“Upgrade?” Rory knew he must sound ridiculous repeating his granddad’s words.

With sweeping hand motions, his granddad continued. “Big screen TV,” (arm wave) “with all the channels,” (bigger arm wave) “and those fancy remote controls,” (small arm wave) “so I can be as lazy as I want,” (big arm wave finish). He grinned and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m getting one of those sofas with the recliners built in. Plus,” he gave a tiny jump in excitement, “a new bed that adjusts, so my back won’t hurt.” He gave Rory a shoulder bump. “I’m moving into the big leagues.”

Rory just blinked and figured it was good that all this would be on the third floor where it wouldn’t mar the historical appeal of the mansion soon to be open for tours. But if it made his granddad happy and comfortable, he could get behind that.

“So, let’s do this. Let’s take the old antiques back to the inn.” Seymour rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Wait, back?” He was doing it again with the repeating. Rory shook his head.

“Your grandmother stole that furniture from the abandoned inn when no one was looking.”

Rory just blinked as his granddad walked away toward the back of the house.

“Stole it?” he said to no one.

Chapter Six

Kate frowned, disappointedin herself. This was her inn, her home. She was fixing it up to bring in guests to stay, and she was afraid of her own freaking basement. It was ridiculous. If she was the innkeeper with a capitalI, she needed to know every nook and cranny of her own inn.

Kate stared down the long hallway leading to the back of the house. She had thoroughly cleaned the space under the stairs to the right, so she could use it for storage. Now she needed to open her basement door and explore down there. Yes, she had walked through the basement with the Realtor before she bought the inn. But the process of purchasing her first property had been overwhelming, and she hadn’t paid the basement much attention. She remembered it as dank and fusty, not her kind of place.

Kate shivered, but with a determined breath she started resolutely down the hall, only to veer left into her kitchen. “Coward,” she muttered, and opened a cupboard to pull out a plastic bowl and fill it with water. Next, she retrieved a small bag of dry cat food she had picked up the day before and filled a second plastic bowl. If mystery cat hid in the basement, maybe putting out food and water would draw kitty into the open. Clutching both bowls, she stepped carefully, so as not to spill, and headed toward her basement. Once at the door, she faltered.

“Don’t be a coward.” It was probably wasted effort. Surely the cat was getting in while the workman tromped to and from their trucks. Again Kate swerved off, this time toward the back porch. She could set the bowls at the edge of the courtyard. She bit her lip.Unless the free kibble invited other creatures to feast.She didn’t need to feed a family of raccoon—or, worse, rats. Kate chewed her lip in frustration. She hated being ridiculous.

Still, making her way into the basement with her hands full suddenly struck her as a really bad idea. Then again, neither did she need wildlife in the courtyard, so…she sucked in a breath. Determined to brave her fears, she stomped back inside and went straight to the basement door, set the bowls down, and opened it. The door creaked eerily on rusty hinges. Tingles traveled up her spine, and she made a note to oil the hinges later this afternoon. She stared into the darkness and waited.

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