Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Evie
I glare at the pile of bills on the desk and the never-ending to-do list I’ve added four more things to that need fixing or replacing after the festival. Two guests have rung during the day—one to say the stair banister feels loose, another to report that the knobs on the dresser have fallen off.
I grabbed the toolbox and made quick work of fixing them, but it was only a few boxes checked off my ever-growing list.
The Pumpkin Festival is less than a week away, and although the B&B is full of witches coming in for the annual broomstick race on Sunday and tourists traveling in for the festival, I have to keep things running smoothly.
Good reviews mean enough visitors throughout the rest of the year to stay in business.
The family owns the property, but all the little costs of repairs, utilities, food, and employees add up.
Not that we keep staff year-round. The aunties and I manage fine save for October through the end of December, when we have our holiday rush.
Nothing fills the rooms like the Pumpkin Festival, though.
So even if it means giving up my new mattress to sleep on a beaten old thing you can hardly call a bed, it’ll be worth it.
Plus, the extra money can go toward fixing up my orange 1970s Volkswagen Beetle.
She was my grandmother’s car, and even though she’s more rust than paint, I can’t bear to have her towed away.
The office phone rings. I exhale before picking up the receiver and summoning what little customer-service cheer I have left.
“Brews and Broomsticks Bed-and-Breakfast, Hawthorne speaking.”
“Miss Hawthorne, it’s Mr. Gables, staying in the green room on the second floor. My sink is leaking something dreadful. I’m heading out for the day, but I hope you can have someone fix it before I return this evening. I’d hate to have soggy socks. It’s bad luck, you know.”
“I’ll get right on it. Thanks for letting me know.
” I set the receiver down and bury my head in my hands.
I just replaced the faucet in that room two months ago.
We’ve maybe had half a dozen people stay there since.
Unless the poltergeist is pulling my leg again, there’s no reason it should be leaking.
Clove lets out a howling yowl as she weaves her cold, ghostly form between my legs under the desk, sending goose bumps rising over my body.
In the boiler room next to the office, the old water heater lets out a loud clang.
My aunts’ warnings about the family curse echo in my head.
“No, that’s ridiculous.” I push to my feet and rub at the throbbing in my temples.
“What’s ridiculous?” Liam’s warm, accented voice comes from the doorway.
“Sands of Salem! What are you doing here?” I tuck a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from my bun behind my ear. “Aren’t you supposed to be out working? Looking for the thief or clues?”
To be perfectly honest, I’ve been burning to ask him about the case since he arrived. While romance has been my genre of choice lately, I grew up with my nose buried in mystery novels, reading under the sheets with a flashlight.
“I’m meeting with the chief of police tomorrow, but I figured I’d spend the day building up the guise of our fake-dating arrangement.” He leans against the doorframe, dark auburn scruff on his face, arms crossed and forearms bulging.
This is not going to work. How am I supposed to fake-date someone who makes me feel like a teenager?
I press my thighs together, crossing my legs as I recall leaving my magic wand in the nightstand drawer a few nights ago when I was in a rush to clean the room before Liam arrived. I can only hope he doesn’t accidentally stumble upon it.
My three aunts were home when it was delivered. They cackled for months, never letting me live down the fact that a witch didn’t need a magic wand for that, just a man with the right cock. I had to drown out what they said next for fear of never being able to look them straight in the eyes again.
“Look, Liam. I appreciate you saving my ass yesterday, but I’ve got a B&B to run, and you’ve got a job to do.”
“Evie, I can perfectly well keep up this fake-dating act and do my job. As I explained earlier, it’s actually the perfect cover for me, and you could use the help around here.”
“Unless you know how to fix leaky sinks, loose doorknobs—”
The papers on my desk go flying as though a hurricane has blown into the room. Dozens of to-do sticky notes, grocery lists, my calendar, and the framed photo of Mom, Dad, Evalyn, and me scatter across the floor just as I hear the familiar cackle of the poltergeist.
“Henry.” Teeth clenched, I storm around the side of the desk, gathering up the mess.
“You look terrible. Sit down before you end up on this side of the floorboards with me.”
Henry materializes in his classic grey tweed three-piece suit and cap-toed oxfords, sitting cross-legged on top of my nearly cleared desk. A crystal decanter appears in his hand, and he pours himself a dram.
“Who’s this fella, Evie? I thought you were holding out for my poor, sweet soul?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and huff out a breath.
“Henry, I don’t have time for this. What do you want?”
“I wanted to see what all the commotion was about. The ladies have been squabbling upstairs about a finely dressed gentleman courting my Miss Evie.”
“We aren’t courting—”
“I am courting Miss Evie,” Liam replies in a smooth tone that threatens to melt the panties right off my body. To make matters worse, he crosses the small room and slips an arm around my waist. “To answer your question, yes, I do know how to fix those things and more. Just point me to your tools.”
I stare dumbfounded at the jaguar as though his touch has short-circuited my brain.
“You can see him?”
“Jaguars aren’t nicknamed ghost cats for no reason.
I can’t see all the specters, even though I can sense them.
Ones with stronger tethers to this house, like that kitten curled under your desk and Henry here, are more corporeal.
The floating whiskey decanter would have been a dead giveaway, though. ”
“Would you like a dram?” Henry holds the carved crystal bottle out to me.
“No, thank you. I’ve got work to do.”
For the next several hours, Liam helps me tackle the list of broken and leaky things that have been piling up. He even tinkers with the water heater until it’s purring as quietly as a kitten.
I push my glasses up my nose. “I think that’s it for today. I’m starved.”
“I can whip us up some dinner.” Liam washes his hands in the kitchen sink and tests the new disposal. It hums smoothly as he flips the switch on and off.
“No cooking. I think we’ve done enough for today. Let me treat you to dinner. There’s a diner a few blocks away. My folks used to take us there a lot when we were kids. I think it’s under new management, but the food is great. The best part? No cleanup.”
Liam throws back his head with a chuckle.
“Okay, deal, but don’t be surprised if I don’t let you pay.”
Planting my hands on my hips, I purse my lips.
“While that’s very chivalrous of you, you worked all day for me for free.”
“Oh, I’ll be sending you my bill later.” He winks before offering me the crook of his elbow. “What I charge in is information, and I’d rather ask you than subject myself to your three aunts.” He glances at the swinging kitchen door. “No offence.”
“None taken. They can be a bit extra, but they mean well.” I smile, truly smile, and feel relaxed in a way I haven’t in years. Despite the lack of quality sleep and working all day, which I know will settle into aching muscles later, I feel good.
I like having Liam around, with his gentle conversation and quiet lulls. We work well together, and he has such an interesting life in the big city.
Which is exactly why I don’t need to go getting attached. He belongs there, and I belong here in Pumpkin Hollow. I’m the eldest daughter of the Hawthornes, and keeping the B&B alive and running is my responsibility.
Yes, at times I wish I was anywhere else, but when I truly think about it, nowhere else seems right except here.
“So, about your family’s wand.”
“What is with you and the wand?” Suddenly, the blood rushes from my face, and I’m glad I’m facing away from him as I realize with mortifying clarity what he must be getting at.
“Look, I’m so sorry I didn’t check all the drawers—” I turn around to face him, but his brows are drawn tightly together.
“I’m asking about the family wand on the mantel. What drawers are you talking about?”
“Oh, nothing. Gibberish. Nonsense. I’m just tired and hungry.
The magic wand isn’t really magic. It’s just a family relic passed down from Hawthorne to Hawthorne.
I don’t even know how many generations it’s been in my family.
” I shrug and grab a rag, wiping down the already clean counters to occupy my hands.
“I just know my aunts, mother, and grandmother before me drilled into my head that it isn’t a toy, it isn’t to be played with, and it has to stay at the heart of the B&B, or else the family will be cursed for all eternity, yada yada. ”
“Well, is it true?”
I scoff and toss the rag into the laundry basket.
“Of course not. It’s just a tale to tell young Hawthornes so they don’t mess with and break antique things. Let’s get cleaned up and head to dinner before we end up eating each other out of starvation.”
After pushing past Liam and heading toward the servants’ quarters, I swear I distinctly hear him say under his breath, “Would that be so bad?”
Goddess, I’m doomed.