Page 52 of Your Coffin or Mine
I quirk a brow and wait for her to continue.
“It’s not their fault—it’s mine, really. I was in love with the idea of love, not him, and sort of just went along with it. You know, start a family. This big dream of kids and a whitepicket fence. We would have never worked out, though. What I wouldn’t give to see their faces when he tells them about you.”
I grin at her wryly. “They wouldn’t approve?”
“No, unless you’re secretly royalty or something. Then you would have to beat them off with a stick. I just usually like to go with the flow and have never really stood up to them. Pathetic, huh?”Oh, darling. If you only knew.Her shoulders turn inward self-consciously. “I’m almost twenty-five years old and have never told my parents no. My father in particular.”
“You seem like a capable woman.” I tilt my head at her with a reassuring smile. “I can’t imagine they would be disagreeable to how you have turned out.”
“Ha. You’d think that. Really, my father doesn’t believe my social media aspirations will lead to much. But I want to try anyway.”
I nod my head and watch the snow fall outside. I have never paid much attention to parents or parenting. Humans die so quickly. What’s seventy years in the grand scheme of things?
Of course, I can’t tell her that. I suppose most humans are reluctant to go against the wishes of their fathers. There was such a time when I sought my father’s approval, after all.
My eyes cut back to her. “Do your parents believe that marrying this man will give you happiness?”
She shrugs, then lowers her gaze with a hint of hurt and sadness in it. “To be honest, I’m not sure they’ve thought about my happiness at all. It was never on the list of reasons why they wanted me to marry him; it’s more like a business arrangement.”
“Ah, I see.” Maybe this world isn’t so different from mine after all, even if it was centuries ago.
“Yeah. It’s never going to happen, though.” Then, as if she wants to change the subject, she picks up a plate and thrusts it toward me. “Do you want a cookie? I’m not sure where Doyle got them or if he made them, but they’re delicious.”
“I don’t eat many sweets,” I tell her honestly, crossing my arms and leaning against the table she’s sitting at.
She moves to set the plate of cookies down. “You are missing out. Oh, hey, I saw something interesting today. A portrait.” She leans into the table, biting her lip conspiratorially. “Is it like your great-great-grandfather?”
I laugh and clear my throat behind my fist to hide my choke of surprise. “There are a lot of those.”
“He was wearing gold armor with a dragon on it.”
“Yes, it’s an ancestor of mine. He built the castle where it stands today, and the village was built roughly a hundred years after.”
“That’s so cool. You know, I was doing some thinking about what Doyle said. About what you could do with the whole cosplay idea. No one has ever visited here, and so I think you have an opportunity to make something great. If you play up the immersive Dracula experience, people will be into it, and you wouldn’t have to take on very many each stay. I think you need to do something like a grand opening. There’s got to be a catering company close. You wouldn’t have to do much... maybe, I don’t know, thirty guests or so?” She tilts her head and nods. “That should do it.”
Doyle will most likely piss himself with glee if I agree to any of this. The thought of more people here sends unease down my spine, but how can I deny her? I shove the misgivings from my mind.
“What would a grand opening do exactly?”
“Well, no one really knows this place is here. But if I make a few mentions on my socials... I mean, there’s no telling. You could get an influx of people wanting to stay. But what’s going to seal the deal is Doyle and the whole Dracula schtick.”
“Dracula, huh?”
She giggles, her cheeks finally warming as her melancholy fades. “Yeah. I mean, even you have to admit Doyle straight-up looks like Gomez Addams, and you literally live in this castle that was the inspo for Daddy Drac.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Daddy Drac?”
“It’s not my fault the idea of vampires is hot. People say they hateTwilightbut most of them have seen the movies at least twice. Dracula is huge, you know. There are people who love vampires, pretend to be them, that whole thing.”
My eyes fill with humor as I face out the window once more, trying to hide it. I wonder what she would think were she to discover that I am, in fact, “Daddy Drac.” Oddly enough, I don’t mind the name, considering she uses it so enthusiastically.
“Do they?”
“For sure.” She folds her arms and nods. “I mean, just the amount of movies based on the guy is ridiculous. The only real one is Bram Stoker’s, but you know. I showed Bernadette your ancestor’s painting and google says he’s the same guy the author based his bookDraculaon.”
I hold my jaw, reluctant about the whole idea. “Hmm.”
Her eyes light up. “Did you know that? You wouldn’t happen to have heard stories from your family or anything?”
