Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
SKYE
“Thanks so much. Enjoy your tour!” I smile professionally at the two elderly ladies who just bought tickets for a private museum tour, and they smile back before wandering off to join Kate, who’s going to take them through.
Most of my attention, though, is on Kieran, who’s with a blond woman who stormed in ten minutes ago and demanded to speak to the manager.
She’s been talking determinedly ever since, a look of self-righteous indignation on her face, while Kieran’s wearing his customer service expression.
I try to eavesdrop, but I can’t make out any words from this distance, and if I go closer, they’ll notice me.
At this time of day on a Wednesday, most of our visitors are either at a demo, in the museum, or eating lunch, so the entrance is deserted.
Though, come to think of it, Daniel’s demo should be finishing up, and we usually get one or two who come in after to pick up information on organic farming or buy something from the gift shop.
Right now, I really wish I was a ghost like Hattie, who popped from solid to invisible when the woman demanded to see the manager, and who I’m pretty sure is right beside Kieran, listening intently.
The woman’s litany of complaints winds down, and Kieran says something in response. I don’t need to strain to hear her screech of reaction.
“That’s it? You’ll look into it? What kind of customer service is that?”
Kieran speaks again, and she whirls around and storms toward the door.
“This is outrageous! I’m going to be calling your corporate office as soon as I get home.”
I look down at the desk to hide my smile. We’re a haunted estate in the middle of Illinois… does she think this is a franchise?
“Ma’am, this is not a Wendy’s. We don’t have a corporate office,” Kieran says calmly, and I glance up to see he’s followed her to the door.
“Then I’m calling the owner!” She plants her hands on her hips and glares.
“You’re certainly welcome to try. May I ask, what outcome were you hoping for?”
It’s moments like these I want to be Kieran when I grow up.
I would have cheerfully kicked her out the door by now, probably followed by a few f-bombs.
But even though I can tell Kieran’s annoyed, he still sounds perfectly pleasant.
We both know she’s after freebies—if her complaint had been a genuine one, Kier wouldn’t have just told her he’d look into it. He takes service seriously.
Sure enough, her outrage suddenly vanishes. “I’ve been through a terrible experience.”
“Yes, you mentioned that,” Kieran agrees. “And I’m definitely going to investigate that further. Was there a different outcome you were expecting?”
She sputters, put on the spot. If she wants “compensation,” she’ll have to ask for it, and that doesn’t fit with her plans.
I study her covertly. I think I remember serving her when she arrived—she asked for a discount on all her day passes because she had a kid with her.
When I told her the children’s passes were already discounted, she tried to argue that she and her husband should get a discount as well, since they were only there to supervise the kid.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard that argument, so I’m pretty good at shutting it down.
“Perhaps you’d like an apology?” Kieran suggests, and her face falls.
“An apology won’t soothe my nerves,” she ventures.
“Won’t it? I’m sorry to hear that. I always find an apology very soothing, myself.” He waits. She hesitates. I listen avidly. Josh is going to be so mad he missed this.
“I think I’m entitled to some reparation,” she finally demands.
Kieran’s smile is perfectly professional but at the same time makes me glad he’s not looking at me that way. “Reparation beyond an apology?”
“Yes! This has been very traumatic.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Kieran says, “That’s certainly something for me to consider.”
She waits. He says nothing more.
“Well?” she bursts out. “Aren’t you going to offer me something?”
“I can offer you my assurance that I’ll look into this very carefully and consider all options.”
Her jaw drops, and she draws herself up, but before she can launch into her next complaint, the front door opens and a man sticks his head in. “Gabby? What’s taking so long? I thought you just wanted a pamphlet?”
Her mouth snaps shut. “They refused to help me,” she declares. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
I expect the man to get upset, but he just sighs resignedly. “Let’s go.”
When the door closes behind them both, Hattie pops back into view, making Kieran jump. “The nerve of that woman! You handled her beautifully, dear.”
“Thanks, Hattie.” He comes back to reception and joins me behind the desk, leaning against it. “It’s always best not to engage with nuisance complainants. If anyone like that comes in while you’re working, pass them to me or whoever’s supervising. Make sure the other ghosts know too.”
I can tell he’s worried one of the ghosts—likely Freddie or Joe—will take it upon themselves to school a visitor.
“Don’t worry, dear, we’re all sharing notes,” Hattie assures him, and I grin.
“What was the issue, anyway?” I ask, dying of curiosity.
Kieran shakes his head. “She had a complaint about Daniel.”
My jaw drops, and Hattie nods sagely. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t heard it with my own two ears,” she confides. “Nobody complains about Daniel… except you, dear.”
It’s true. In all the time I’ve worked here, I can’t remember anyone making a complaint about Dan.
That’s not to say visitors and guests haven’t had complaints about the farming demos—they didn’t see enough, or weren’t allowed to use the equipment for long enough, or it was harder than they thought and now their arms are sore—but they’re always quick to assure us it wasn’t Daniel’s fault.
He’s so annoyingly affable that people can’t help liking him.
The rest of us get complaints all the time.
Some of them might even be valid, like the time I told a man to have the day he deserved, preferably somewhere else.
(I felt justified at the time.) But Hattie’s right; I’m the only person who actually clashes with Daniel…
and it’s mostly because of my unrequited love for him that I’m desperate not to show.
Damn him.
“What was the complaint?” I ask, and Kieran shrugs.
“She said he was really rude to her.”
“Daniel?”
“I know, right? I’ll ask him about it, but you heard the way she was angling for ‘reparation.’ It’s probably nothing.”
“And then she left in a hurry when her husband appeared.” Hattie tsks. “Some people just like to make trouble.”
It’s only an hour later that Daniel puts in an appearance.
He’s changed out of his work uniform, which consists of wool pants with a button front and suspenders and a pullover shirt that’s open at the neck.
It’s not really historically accurate to any one time period, but then, neither is my uniform.
The ghosts who were around back then like to occasionally mutter over them, but the clothes we wear have to combine practicality with impact.
Historical accuracy is third in terms of importance.
Daniel’s in worn jeans and what I think might once have been a band tee. It’s so faded that I can’t tell. He waits until the visitor Hattie’s talking to leaves, then asks, “You ready?”
“I’m just waiting for Josh to come back, then I have to change.
” I can’t believe I’m going to willingly lock myself in a car with Daniel for a few hours.
Didn’t I learn anything from last night’s almost-disaster when I grabbed his hand and clung for dear life like some sort of creeper?
My cheeks get hot as I remember. The poor guy was trying to be a good friend, and I totally took advantage.
“I can hold down the fort if you want to change now,” Hattie volunteers. “And then when Josh and Freddie get here, we just have to hand over to them.”
Um… do I want to leave Hattie alone to be the face of the estate? I chew on my lip, thinking about it, then glance up to see Daniel watching me intently.
“I-I don’t know,” I begin, but Dan interrupts.
“Go. I’ll be here.”
I shoot him a doubtful look. “That’s not as reassuring as you seem to think. You don’t know anything about reception.”
“But I do,” Hattie sings. “Don’t worry, Skye. Between us, Daniel and I have it covered. This time of day, it’s not likely anyone will come in anyway. Off you go!”
Reluctantly, and hoping Kieran won’t have a reason to be mad later, I scoot out from behind reception and head upstairs to the crash room to change.
I can’t say I’m sorry to be taking off this stupid cutaway coat and cravat earlier than usual.
I like the way my uniform looks on me, but wearing it all day is another matter.
Fortunately, when I get back downstairs, there aren’t any guests in sight—but Josh is back, leaning against the desk and listening to what Daniel’s saying while Hattie and Freddie confer nearby.
“…shouldn’t have been so snappy, but she got on my last nerve.”
Dammit! That sounds like he’s talking about the woman who made the complaint, and I missed it.
“I’m pretty sure you weren’t snappy,” Josh says wryly. “Not by normal people standards, anyway. Ewan says she went into the smithy and bitched because he wouldn’t make her something during the demo.”
“What did she want him to make?” I join them.
Josh rolls his eyes. “A set of candlesticks like he makes for the gift shop. He told her we had stock and he was happy to call up and have someone save her some, but she apparently figured if he made them during the demo, they would be discounted.”
“Why would they be discounted?” Hattie asks.
Freddie sniffs. “Some things cannot be understood by the genteel mind.”
“No idea,” Josh tells Hattie. “But I think Freddie just called us genteel.”
“That’s a step up from what he usually calls us,” Daniel murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear, and I snort.
“Are you well, Skye?” Freddie asks, frowning. “Or is a demon attacking you from afar? Blink twice if you need assistance.”
I concentrate hard on keeping my eyes open wide. “I’m fine, thanks. Just something in my throat. Non-demon-attack related,” I add hastily when he takes a step toward me. “Are you taking over for Hattie?”
He nods with more satisfaction than the job deserves, and I’m glad he has the afternoon shift. There shouldn’t be too many people through at this time on a Wednesday, so there’s less chance of him offending someone.
Though I’m sorry I won’t be here to see it if he does.
“You can leave with a clear mind, Skye. Josh and I will look after things.”
“Thank you,” I reply gravely. Freddie might be an elitist pain in the ass, and the housekeepers hate the way he inspects and criticizes their work, but his heart’s in the right place.
“Have we had any updates from Connor and Gabe?” Daniel asks.
Josh shakes his head. “I haven’t.”
“Me either. And I was with Kieran most of the morning, so I think he would have mentioned if he had,” I add.
I’m not sure if that’s good news or not.
It would be great if the Collective reached out to give us a detailed plan in which all our problems are solved and we can go back to our normal lives while the experts step in, but…
Yeah. That’s not happening.
At least they didn’t call to say things have gone completely to shit and we should brace for a demon apocalypse.
“Let’s go, then,” Daniel says to me. “We need to find a spirit that knows all the details.”
I love wishful thinking.