Page 27 of All You Want
“Somehow this feels wrong,” Linx says. “It’s like you’re commercializing the suffering of the women you told me about.”
“Their stories are the stuff of legends,” I retort. “That’s what all theme parks do. Create rides and exhibits that tell stories.”
“Maybe,” she says. “I know there were a lot of characters and scary things that happened, but aren’t you sensationalizing them?”
“You were laughing about it earlier. What got into you?”
She presses her lips together and doesn’t answer me.
So self-righteous. I get that she does noble things such as fighting fires and rescuing dogs. She’s the town heroine—I respect that. But there’s nothing wrong with making money and entertaining people.
I don’t want to argue with her. I love her to pieces, and she’s been through such a hard time with being burned over forty percent of her body. I go for distraction instead.
I turn on my flashlight and point it into the rose bushes. “Did you hear that?”
“No, not a thing.” She gives me a playful slap. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“No, I swear, I heard something.” I sneak toward the spindly roses that have already been deadheaded. “It’s like someone or something is watching.”
That gets her attention. Her eyes widen, and she puts a finger over her lips. I advance toward the corner of the porch and catch a shadow darting through the rails.
“Over there.” I follow the shadow with the flashlight beam, catching the reflection of two eyes, shining like gold coins. “See that?”
“It’s only a kitty cat,” Linx says, laughing. She gets down on her knees and holds out a hand. “Here kitty, kitty. Don’t be scared.”
A small black kitten emerges from underneath the rose bushes. Its nose twitches, and its whiskers quiver.
“It’s probably hungry.” I reach into my pocket for the half-finished sandwich I saved to eat later.
“Poor little thing,” Linx says. “Look at its ribs.”
“Ah…” I rip up pieces of roast beef and cheese from the sandwich and place it on the palm of my hand.
The kitten mews, but it’s too scared to come closer.
“Drop the food, and let’s pretend we don’t see it,” Linx says. “It’s a stray and probably afraid of us.”
“It’s so tiny,” I say. “What happens if it starts snowing? We should catch it and find it a home.”
“It’s too bad I only rescue dogs,” Linx says. “Not sure having a cat will go over well with Cedar.”
“Then I can take it home.” I put the food at the corner of the porch.
The kitten stares at us with large golden-yellow eyes, but it doesn’t come closer.
“Let’s leave it for now,” Linx says. “Maybe if you keep feeding it, it’ll get used to you.”
“It’s so cute, but kind of spooky too.” I suppress a shiver going down my spine at the uncanny way the kitten’s eyes follow me. “Like it’s watching me.”
“A spooky cat for Spooky Fest.” She laughs. “Maybe this cat can be your mascot.”
“I’ll set out food and make friends with it.” I turn away from the scared cat and unlock the front door. “Come on into my Harrowing Haunts Hotel and prepare for the fright of your lifetime.”
The door creaks open, reminding me I need to grease the hinges. Shining my light, I can see the beautiful polished wood floor and the crystal chandelier. Beyond that is a gilded floor-length mirror, and the banister and staircase to the second floor. A player piano sits next to the staircase, and strips of floral wallpaper have already been hung.
“It’s beautiful,” Linx says. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“It shouldn’t be beautiful, but spooky,” I say, stepping over the threshold.
