Chapter Two
So to keep her promise, Jillian bought the old Inn when she found out it was for sale.
Now she could finally fulfill her promise.
She decided to move in, to see what the story really was if she could.
Jillian was a writer and this story intrigued her.
The longer she stood here staring at the building in front of her, the more aware she became of a different sort of feeling.
Like she was being watched. Staring at the Inn she couldn’t see anyone but the feeling persisted.
As she approached the path to the front door she noticed the front gate was standing open. That looked odd but not too odd as maybe the realtor had left it open. The picket fence around the yard was still there, though it needed a new coat of paint, another sign of some abandonment around the Inn.
Jillian grabbed her laptop, her cooler with food and her overnight bag. Then she finally whistled for her dog, Poppy, to come.
Together, they climbed the steps to the front door of the Inn. The front porch of the building wrapped around the entire front of the Inn. A verandah as some would call it. She had to step carefully as some of the boards on the steps and porch needed repairs.
When she got to the front door, the feeling of being watched got stronger.
She paused for a moment before she unlocked the door to look around the yard.
The yard had spots of color here and there from some of the flowering plants.
There were clusters of green where the grass was overgrown in other areas.
She could only imagine how lush this area had once been. No one had lived here in years, but someone had tried to spruce it up. She could see where the lawn had been mowed not too long ago.
Jillian shrugged and turned to the task at hand. She put aside the creepy feeling she felt and unlocked the front door. The door groaned as she pushed it open and stepped inside. The air seemed thick with dust and a stale closed up smell.
The front parlor was styled for a Victorian look of the late 1800’s era.
It wasn’t styled to the 1980’s like one would expect.
All the furniture was Victorian, even the lace doilies on the back of the high-backed sofas and chairs looked like they were from that era.
The sisters must have gone for an old-world look and feel for the Inn.
The front desk reminded Jillian of a bar but the wood had a thick layer of dust there too.
Jillian had read that the previous owners, Mike and Sandy Pruitt tried to restore the Belmar in 2000 but couldn’t finish it because of some kind of interference or so they had reported.
And yes, the real estate agent that sold her the Inn had tried to steer away from the haunted aspect but Jillian hadn’t been turned off.
She asked about what happened and the agent had reluctantly told her some of the stories.
It was the law in any case to report such things as deaths occurring on the premises.
Jillian shivered. She didn’t believe in ghosts but she did feel something existed here that didn’t belong. She gazed down at Poppy and said, “Well girl, are we ready for this?”
Poppy just cocked her head to one side and looked up at her.
Jillian smiled and rubbed her dog’s head. She wasn’t too keen on ghosts or whatever but she was determined to find out what happened here all those years ago.
The writer inside her wanted to know the juicy details but the granddaughter inside her needed to know what the story was between Matthew Nixen and the two women. She had a feeling the whole sordid tale hadn’t been told yet.
The sensation she had earlier regarding being watched was even stronger now since she had entered the Inn. She shivered as her imagination heated up.
Moving over to the desk area, she noted the surroundings.
The round braided rug under the table looked brand new.
She noticed a cubby section behind the desk and each cubby had room for a key along with a mail slot if the occupant got any.
And no dust existed here. The wallpaper was starting to curl around the edges a bit.
She could almost imagine how grand the Inn must have been in its heyday.
The floors would have been polished until they sparkled, and the woodwork around the parlor would have gleamed in the sunshine.
The windows would have been polished to let all the sunshine into the lobby.
Fresh flowers from the gardens would have been set out on the many tables adorning the Inn.
The two sisters would have kept everything tidy and neat.
Today however, the Inn looked tired... not so neat and clean anymore. She believed a house had a soul; that it was a living breathing thing and the things that happened in the house left their own imprint. Whatever tragedy happened here all those years ago had left its own mark within the Inn.
According to all the stories, the Inn burns to the ground every year and every year it comes back to life. This rumor or tale was preposterous and impossible. Jillian came to find out about the real story.
She glanced toward the staircase to the left of the lobby. The grand staircase leading upstairs was carpeted and led to the landing on the second floor where most of the boarding rooms were located. She had seen the drafted layout of the Inn, months ago.
Turning, she went to find the kitchen and get her food put away.
She found a large kitchen and it surprised her.
Neat and clean with some modern features too.
She went over to the Fridge and set her cooler down to put her food away.
Finally, the cooler and the food bags he brought were put away so she turned and left the very clean kitchen.
Someone had been here to clean it and she made a mental note to call and thank the real estate agent.
As she climbed the staircase she recalled what she knew about the layout...there were ten rooms in all, seven rooms upstairs and three downstairs. When she got to the top of the steps she could see the rooms were open, all but one. The far corner room door was closed.
She wondered whose room the closed door belonged to.
Was it Claire’s room or Matilda’s? Or maybe it was Matthew’s room.
According to the rumors that’s where Matilda found the couple.
It was said that she opened the door and found them in bed together.
So in a jealous rage, she locked the door and started a fire, trapping Claire and Matthew inside.
Claire and Matthew tried to get out but the door wouldn’t open and all three lost their lives that day. The town’s people were able to put out the fire. But when they recovered the bodies no one reported who they were. To this day, no one seemed to know and that was part of the mystery of the Inn.
She stared at the closed door again. Mike and Sandy Pruitt had left a message with the realtor that they hadn’t been able to open this particular door.
The realtor found that odd since the rest of the Inn had been easily accessible.
Jillian wondered if something existed behind this door that wasn’t meant to be seen.
Her writer’s imagination told her that when the time was right, the door would open to reveal the final secret of the Inn.
She glanced down at the parlor again and decided that it was time to freshen up the place.
She still had a few hours of daylight left so she went back downstairs, walked over to the windows and snapped up the shades.
The overcast skies had cleared and now sunlight filled the room.
She could see particles of dust floating everywhere.
She opened the windows and breathed deeply as the cool fresh air came inside.
After a short search, she found the cleaning closet and it had the essentials she needed.
It was early evening when she finished cleaning the parlor.
After years of neglect the place looked pretty good.
She couldn’t find any signs of the fire that supposedly destroyed the Inn.
She didn’t know who rebuilt it and no one in town did either.
They claimed that was part of the haunting.
One day, the Inn burned to the ground and the next day the Inn was back in all its fading glory.
It was one of the reasons people were afraid to come here.
Sitting down on one of the stairs to rest a bit, she noticed that Poppy had made herself comfortable on the braided rug underneath the round table.
She was snoozing in the last bit of sunlight coming through the open door.
Twisting open the cap of a water bottle she viewed the parlor.
It looked clean and ready for someone to come sit and visit.
She glanced over at the round table again and frowned.
Jillian had dusted it earlier but when she looked at it just now the dust was back. She got up and walked over to the table. In the dust someone had written the words...
“Get out while you can.”