Chapter 3 #2
“It’s fine.” He flips a hand in dismissal.
“I’m not offended. I get asked that all the time.
So… this is the main communal space for the guests and day-trippers.
As you can see, Arissa, our catering manager, keeps it stocked with snacks.
” He gestures to a sideboard where there’s a basket of muffins covered with one of those dome-fly-screen thingies, a bowl of whole fruit, and two manual drink dispensers on little stands, one filled with water and the other with some kind of juice.
“The snacks are complimentary, and most people are respectful of that, but I do occasionally need to shoot a nasty look at someone filling a bag. We used to have coffee and hot tea out here, but day-trippers would deliberately tip it on themselves and then ask us how we could recompense them for their suffering, even after we showed them the security camera footage. The last time, it was such a busy day that nobody had gotten around to refreshing the pot for hours and the liquid was barely lukewarm, but that didn’t stop them from trying.
So now we only offer hot drinks to overnight guests. ”
“People suck,” I commiserate.
“There’s always someone who ruins it for everyone else,” he agrees, leading me toward double doors at the back of the room.
There’s a discreet card reader to the side of them, and he pulls a set of keys from his jacket pocket and swipes a small blue disc over it.
The light changes from red to green, and he opens one of the doors.
“This part of the house is for overnight guests and staff only. You may have noticed that there’s no staircase in the front entry.
That’s deliberate to keep day-trippers out of the private accommodation, and required some redesign when the house was renovated twenty years ago.
The front entrance was originally a central hall that extended almost the length of the house, with the receiving and entertaining rooms on either side and the main staircase in the middle.
” He pauses. “Sorry, I’m using my tour guide voice, aren’t I? ”
“Yep, but I like it. And I probably need to know all this anyway, don’t I?”
“It would help, in case we’re shorthanded and need you to give guests a tour. Um… so when the new owners renovated, they put up the walls to divide the front entrance from the rest of the main hall and to create a narrower corridor into the museum space.”
“Got it. That’s a better solution than a velvet rope and a sign saying Do Not Enter.”
Skye laughs. “Right? Anyway, this is the private parlor. As you can see, it’s smaller than the living room but has a better array of snacks. It’s the place you’re most likely to find guests who want to be social with each other or need a pick-me-up after Ewan and Daniel have put them to work.”
“We put guests to work? I mean, I knew it was an immersive experience, but I didn’t realize it was quite that interactive.” Maybe I’m lazy, but I can’t imagine wanting to spend all that money to stay here—and it’s not cheap—just so the owners can get some free labor.
“It’s optional, but a lot of guests like to see how it feels to use a forge or a scythe.
Especially if they have experience with modern farming or blacksmithing.
The guys are accredited instructors and keep a very close eye on things.
And nearly everyone likes to take a turn feeding or grooming the animals, because Ewan has a policy that you only get to pet them if you earn it. ”
The sound that bursts from me is half scoff, half laugh. “Say what? And the guests go for that?”
Skye shrugs. “The only times I’ve known him to make exceptions are when people are physically unable to do those chores.
Even little kids have to pass him the curry comb or whatever.
Ewan’s a big guy, and few people are willing to argue over it.
Some have complained to Kieran, and he just tells them Ewan and Daniel are responsible for the care of the animals and get to set the rules. ”
We head toward another set of double doors to our left. If my mental map is right, they should lead into the space behind reception, where the main staircase is.
Skye throws the doors open. “Ta-dah!”
“Wow.” Even seeing it from the side instead of the front, the staircase is impressive, wide and sweeping.
I look up, and the two floors above both have wide galleries overlooking this “main” hallway.
“This is special,” I admit, just as a dapper-looking middle-aged ghost in a 1930s-style three-piece suit complete with watch chain, cane, and hat comes down the stairs.
“Special,” he scoffs. “These modern folk have no appreciation for fine architecture. This staircase is spectacular.”
I’m pretty sure he’s talking to himself, but Maisie was going to tell all the other ghosts about me, so maybe he’s talking to me? I don’t want to accidentally be rude. Pissed-off or offended ghosts can be a real drainer.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” I say as respectfully as I can manage. “I was, um, swept away by the moment and couldn’t think of the right word.”
Skye shoots me a startled glance before comprehension dawns, but the ghost is so surprised by me speaking to him that he screeches and drops through the stairs. I shudder at the sight of him suspended in the middle of a solid object.
“Who is it?” Skye whispers. “Pompous-looking man dressed like a banker?”
I nod.
“Frederick Walton III,” he murmurs. “He’ll try to get you to call him Mr. Walton, but he goes by Freddie to most of us.”
“Thanks,” I whisper back as Freddie extracts himself from the stairs, brushes off imaginary dust, then gathers his dignity and descends the remaining steps to the ground floor. Skye and I move forward a little.
“Is he manifesting?” I mutter, and Skye shakes his head. “Good morning,” I say louder, smiling at Freddie. “I’m sorry I startled you. My name’s Josh, and I’m going to be working here starting Monday. Maisie was supposed to tell you.”
He sniffs. “I try not to associate with that woman too frequently. Her reputation leaves much to be desired.”
Yeouch. Poor Maisie. “Uh, well, as you’ve no doubt guessed, I can see and speak to you even when you’re not manifesting. And off the estate. Hattie can tell you all about it.”
He studies me with a pinched expression, then nods. “Well, this will be convenient. It’s been such a hardship having to manifest every time I need to pass along instructions.”
Instructions? Oh man, this is going to be interesting.
“If you’ll excuse us, Skye here was just showing me around. I look forward to speaking with you next week.”
“And you, young man. I shall take myself off and make a list.” He turns before I can say anything else and heads back toward the stairs. I dread to think what he’s going to put on that list. And how much energy it’s going to take him to write it.
“Excuse me, sir?” I call, winking at Skye, who’s only heard my side of things and is mostly clueless. “What was your name?”
“Mr. Walton,” he throws back over his shoulder. I stifle my grin until he’s three steps up, clearly decides haste is more important than dignity, and shoots off at a diagonal.
Then I laugh.
“Okay, you gotta fill me in,” Skye demands, smiling, then laughs like a loon when I do. “It’s going to be so much fun with you here.”
It’s kinda dumb, but that makes me feel warm all over. Nobody’s ever said it to me before.
Skye shows me through the rest of the rooms on the ground floor, which include a small library, a dining room, a glass-walled conservatory, Kieran’s—and now my—office, the staff break room, the utility room, and the kitchen, where I meet Arissa the catering manager, two cooks, and three kitchenhands.
They’re having a planning meeting ahead of the weekend rush, but I get a warm welcome when Skye introduces me, which warms up even further after he tells them about my abilities.
Turns out, some of the ghosts like to play pranks in the kitchen, which has almost led to accidents a few times.
They tried salting to keep the ghosts out, but it’s not a practical option with the heavy foot traffic, high heat, and the fear of a surprise health and safety inspection.
I promise to do what I can and make a mental reminder to revisit the notes I took when I was training with Lisa, the medium.
The storeroom is next. “This is boring, but believe me, you’ll spend a lot of time in here,” Skye warns me.
“Sheets and towels are in the hall linen press, but everything else is kept here.” He explains the shelving system, which is pretty simple but makes it easy to find things quickly.
As we get toward the far end of the room, the hair on my arms stands on end, and I shiver.
“Cold?” he asks. “It’s always cool in here.”
“Uh, I guess.” I didn’t think I was, but… Glancing around, I spot a door. “What’s that?”
“Basement,” Skye says. “It’s unfinished, and we don’t keep anything down there.”
I nod and follow as he heads back toward the hallway. But I can’t help looking back over my shoulder. That basement might be empty, but it gives me the creeps.
Skye takes me upstairs via a cute little elevator tucked in a back corner.
“This floor and the one above are all guest rooms,” he says.
“We have nine double rooms in total, each with a private bathroom, so the maximum number of guests you’d ever have to worry about is eighteen.
There are six here at the moment, three couples who all know each other and have stayed with us before.
We’re expecting a full house this weekend, though.
” He shows me a couple of the unoccupied rooms. They’re furnished to look old-fashioned, with all signs of modern life neatly hidden away in cabinets and drawers, even the phone.
The bathroom fittings look “old,” and the outlets are tucked behind a hinged panel, but everything is fully up-to-date.
It’s newer than the bathrooms in my last three apartments.