Chapter Nineteen
Chapter
Nineteen
For the next three days, I dive full steam ahead into solving the problem of a self-sustaining ghost room.
Despite Xander’s sobered-up insistence that the glasses and spirit boards are good enough, seeing the joy he and Ellie felt dancing with the ghosts convinces me to keep trying.
I want them to have dance parties when I’m gone.
I want them to have lazy Saturdays to watch Colton’s antics.
Time for deep conversations with Laney or to listen to the Jennifers tell stories about all the drama they’ve witnessed at decades of proms and weddings.
To talk philosophy by the fire with Harry.
And Willa.
My heart aches to imagine it. To see the young girl I met come back to her smiling, vibrant self.
To hear the voice Elle so desperately misses.
I imagine Willa and Colton playing tag around the house while Elle watches, enjoying the chance to keep loving her niece the way she deserves.
Before the cancer invaded Willa’s brain and stole her future.
I won’t be here to see it, but it helps to know I’ll have made it possible.
Since Thursday night, Elle hasn’t brought up Willa, and I haven’t pushed. She let me hold her that entire night—and we barely managed to avoid Xander spotting us together Friday morning—but since then, it’s been business as usual. Heads down, all three of us focused on our work.
Now that it’s Monday, there are only five days until Midnight Manor opens, and everything needs to be perfect. The chef Xander and Elle hired started this morning, testing and prepping the menu for both the opening night festivities and the offerings for Sloane’s inaugural spiritualist retreat.
The chef, who introduced herself as Oliviette—but please, call me Olli—stressed that five days isn’t as much lead time as she’d normally like, but assured Xander and Elle that she could handle it.
Which means I need to have my pieces under control, too.
And I nearly do. I finished the rest of the spirit boards and supervised their installation throughout the manor. The only thing I have left is this damn room.
It’s been a long time since I’ve struggled this much with a magical experiment.
There are so many variables. The spell needs to make the ghosts both visible and audible, like the summoning circle I used, while also having a porous barrier so the ghosts can walk in and out of the room whenever they want.
Then there’s the matter of powering the spell.
I won’t be here, and Xander insists he won’t hire any witch who isn’t me, which means the spell needs to be self-generating.
I solved that for the goggles, the large plate of selenite refreshing the glasses without my assistance, but that won’t work for a room this size.
Selenite could revitalize the individual crystals in the grids I’ve laid out in each corner, but they’d need a witch who could set them back up properly to avoid altering the spell.
And as if that weren’t enough, there’s the question of whether to set up the room to run all day or make it something Xander or Elle could turn on for their guests upon request. Both options have their own challenges, and trying to plan for all the different contingencies is breaking my brain.
After a highly indulgent lunch, prepared by the new chef as a sample of what’s to come this weekend—braised short ribs, decadent mashed potatoes, and crisp asparagus—the three of us retreat to our separate tasks.
Elle heads upstairs to bury herself in spreadsheets and ensure the rooms are all prepped and fully dusted and perfect for Friday.
I offered to put together a package of self-cleaning magic, but she asked me to stay focused on the ghost room instead.
So that’s what I’m doing, Xander busy with the chef going over wine pairings, when there’s a knock at the front door.
“Elle? Xander?” I raise my voice as much as I dare with visitors waiting on the porch. “Someone’s here!”
Neither of them answers, and I waffle on what to do. Go find them? Answer the door myself? But when there’s a second knock, I hurry to greet whoever is on the other side.
“Sloane,” I say when the door is fully open, recognizing the dapper investor. To their left stands an extremely attractive white man with dark hair and hazel eyes, dressed in a well-tailored suit, complete with a vest that accentuates his narrow waist. “And…”
“My assistant. Sebastian Fairfax. He’s here to help me with the final inspection.”
Sebastian reaches out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Thompson.”
“Oh. No. I’m not—I’m just the hired help. Elle and Xander are busy with preparations inside,” I babble, and when the man raises a thick eyebrow, I clasp my hand in his. “Sorry. I’m Pippa.”
Sebastian shakes my hand once before dropping it, his neutral gaze inching toward incredulous. “You’re guest services?”
Heat creeps up my chest. “Oh god, no. Not at all. I’d be horrible at that. I’m the witch who haunted the place.” Then I realize why he seemed incredulous. “Oh, right! I should invite you in. Sorry. Please, come inside. I’ll get the owners.”
I move aside and close the door behind them.
Even though I’m definitely not the hostess, I shake off my surprise at their appearance—neither Xander nor Elle mentioned Sloane would be coming today—and step into a role I’ve occupied for years.
Owner-operator of my own business. “Can I take your coats? Get you anything to drink?”
“Pippa?” Elle’s voice shouts from upstairs, and I wish there were something I could do to warn her that her investor was already standing in the foyer.
“Have you— Oh. Sloane.” Elle appears at the top of the stairs and descends slowly, tucking flyaways behind her ears.
“I wasn’t expecting you until Friday afternoon. ”
“Truly?” Sloane adjusts the cuffs of their suit jacket.
“You didn’t think I’d ensure the place was properly prepared before I allowed my students to check in?
” Sloane shakes their head as Elle comes to stand beside me.
“I do try not to micromanage my investments, but that doesn’t mean I remain completely hands-off.
It’s important that my students have the best possible experience working with me, and that includes the location. ”
Elle nods, deferential. “Of course. My oversight. Can I get you and your colleague anything?” Elle turns to me after Sloane introduces Sebastian, who declines a beverage. “Pippa, could you get Alex for me?”
“On it.” I hurry toward the back of the house and grab Xander from the kitchen, where he’s hunched over the counter, taste testing a series of side dishes from the chef.
He must sense my alarm, because he stands straight the moment he sees me. “Something wrong?”
I shake my head. “At least, I hope not. Sloane is here with their assistant. They want to do a final inspection.”
Xander scoops up two untouched plates of the duchesse potatoes with sprigs of rosemary and pours two glasses of water, completely unfazed.
I follow, amazed by his calm. His smile is bright when he presents the kitchen’s offering to Sloane and Sebastian, falling into easy conversation with the pair as I try not to fidget.
Should I stay? Or would it be better to slip away?
A prickle of awareness at my left causes me to turn. Bright orange letters appear on the spirit board.
Who’re the suits?
“Fascinating.” Sebastian approaches the board and glances over to me. “This is your handiwork?”
“I call it a spirit board. It’s calibrated to each of the ghosts in residence. The color tells us who left the message.”
Sebastian closes his eyes and breathes deep. “Male. Adult, but young.” He tips his head to the side, like he can hear Colton’s voice without the assistance of sigils or ghost goggles. “Bit of a childish sense of humor.”
Hey!
You’re not wrong but still!
I chuckle, Colton’s boisterousness easing some of the tension in my shoulders. This is my home turf. I won’t let Sloane’s assistant intimidate me. Especially since he’s not trying to make me feel like an impostor. That’s my own baggage.
“That’s Colton. He died while he was in college.”
“Sebastian.” Sloane’s voice cuts through the short distance to where he and I have wandered away from the rest of the group. “How many spirits are in residence here?”
A flash of worry crosses Sebastian’s face, and seeing his confident armor slip makes me like him more.
He tips his head to the left and breathes deep.
Though I can’t feel anything specific, I get the distinct impression he’s stretching the bounds of his…
intuition? Spiritual attunement?…to see who else is here.
“I sense four, including the one writing on the board,” he says at last.
Damn. He’s good. “Close, we actually—”
“There are five,” Sloane cuts in. “One is farther away, outside the manor.”
“That’s Laney,” I add, trying and failing to keep the impressed tone out of my voice. “They wander the property most days. They don’t like being cooped up.”
I offered to go with them, Colton writes on the board. But Laney said they wanted time to think.
“He’s disappointed,” Sebastian says, and his intuitive connection to the ghosts is so much stronger than mine.
Without the magical interventions I’ve invented, I can’t tell for sure if one of the ghosts is in the room.
And Sebastian is just the assistant. No wonder Sloane is highly respected for this work.
I looked up their retreat a couple of weeks ago.
People spend a lot of money to train with them.
Which, I realize with a sinking feeling, makes it obvious that Sloane would check in. Their standards are astronomical. They wouldn’t leave something this big to chance and trust alone. Especially not a new investment.