Chapter 5
The light outside shifted from overcast gray to a murky gold, deepening the lines in Margaret’s face as she reached for her mug again.
She took a careful sip, holding the cup in both hands.
Lauren could see her knuckles, thin and webbed with veins, tightening as if the ceramic might slip away if she didn’t anchor herself.
“I’m sorry if I startled you with the name,” Margaret said. “It’s just… I never thought I’d see her face again. Not in this place.” Her eyes flicked to the window, where a pair of gulls hovered, then back to the table. “Would you mind if I…?” She gestured to the photo.
“Please. I’d be grateful for anything you can tell me about her,” Lauren said.
Margaret studied the image for a long moment, thumb on the corner, gaze drifting between Katie’s smile and the blurred shadows behind her.
“She was only here for a few summers as I mentioned. The last one I had just graduated, and my mother sent me out to earn ‘real money’ before college.” Margaret’s voice softened, amused.
“I thought I’d work at the A others said the owners sent her away for stealing. But I never believed any of it.”
Lauren leaned in, unable to stop herself. “Why not?”
Margaret took a breath, long and measured. “She wouldn’t have left me behind. I know it sounds childish, but that’s how it felt. I was quite shy back then, and she was the only friend I had. She talked about her future all the time. She wouldn’t just let it go.”
Her voice faltered, and for a second, Lauren saw the echo of the teenager Margaret must have been, lonely and fiercely loyal.
“Do you remember anything else?” Lauren asked gently. “Even if it seems small.”
Margaret was quiet for a long time. She twisted the strap of her purse around her wrist, knotting and unknotting it.
“There was a place…” she said finally. “A storage room. Under the old carriage house, back near the tree line. The staff wasn’t allowed in.
I never saw what was kept there, just that the door was always locked, even when the owner asked for something from storage. ”
Evan straightened, interest flickering across his otherwise neutral face. “Is it still there?”
Lauren thought for a moment. She’d seen a stone outbuilding behind the inn, half-swallowed by brush and tangled with dead raspberry canes. “I think so. I haven’t been inside yet. The doors are rusted shut.”
Margaret nodded, satisfied that her memory was worth something. “If you find anything, let me know.” She reached into her purse and drew out a business card, yellowed around the edges, and wrote her home number on the back with a tidy, schoolteacher’s hand.
Lauren accepted it. “Thank you…for telling me about her.”
Margaret stood, gathering her shawl around her shoulders. “Thank you for remembering. Most people just want to talk about the ghosts.” She managed a smile, but it was clear her visit had left her tired.
Lauren walked her to the door, Evan hanging back but watching, always the observer. The wind had picked up, rattling the porch rail and carrying the smell of lakewater and wet leaves.
Margaret paused on the steps, looking out over the grounds. “I hope you fix it,” she said. “This place deserves a happy ending.”
Lauren watched her go, the small figure marching determinedly down the gravel, purse held like a shield against the world. For a long moment, she stood in the doorway, unsure whether to feel comforted or haunted.
Inside, Evan picked up the photograph from the table, turning it over in his hands. “Looks like you’ve got your first guest mystery,” he said, half a smile on his lips.
Lauren huffed a laugh. “I think I’m in over my head.”
He set the photo down carefully. “You’ll figure it out.”
She wanted to believe him.
Outside, the light had dimmed from the clouds forming, and a mist was beginning to creep up from the lake.
Lauren crossed to the dining room window, pressing her palm against the cool glass.
She could see the carriage house from here, its roofline half-collapsed, the doors mottled with age and lichen.
It looked, she thought, like a mouth waiting to be pried open.
Behind her, Evan moved to the window, standing a respectful distance away. “We could check it out this week, if you want.”
Lauren nodded, not trusting herself to speak. For the first time since she’d bought the inn, she felt something other than exhaustion: a restless, humming hope, as if the building itself had passed a secret from one caretaker to the next.
She let the feeling settle. Then she left the window, turning on every light as she moved through the rooms, unwilling to let the dark have the last word.