CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Marie looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the old bed-and-breakfast. She cocked her head, as if trying to see it better from a different angle, but it all remained the same. She frowned; it made no sense to her.

“This is the place?” Marie asked, looking at Boo. “This is the bed-and-breakfast?”

Boo was sitting in the back seat, regarding the place as if he were a potential guest.

The house itself had a grandiose sort of feel to it, but it was somewhat depleted by the gloomy-looking exterior. It simpler terms, it looked borderline creepy and decrepit. It made June Manor look like some bright and shiny palace from a Pixar movie.

“Well, Boo, I suppose we don’t run the gamut on creepy and potentially haunted bed-and-breakfasts anymore.” She chuckled at her own joke but realized afterward that it wasn’t funny.

Boo let out a low chuffing noise. He seemed to share Marie’s sentiments.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Marie asked.

Boo whined and pawed innocently at the door. It was as if he knew they were supposed to be here…and that he had work to do.

“Okay, we’ll go. Just…don’t be mad at me, okay? I have to take the credit for this to work. You understand that, right?”

Boo only continued to paw at the door.

Marie looked back at the house. While June Manor had a gothic feel to it, this house took it to a whole different level. It looked like a miniaturized castle of sorts, airlifted straight out of Transylvania and plopped down in the tiny town of Bloom, Maine. The cutest and most traditional detail to the entire place was the hand-carved sign hanging over the wide front porch steps that read BLOOM GARDENS AND REST. In Marie’s estimation, it was the one solitary thing that made the exterior look welcoming. Sure, the place had been well-maintained, but it screamed

house of horrors

rather than

come have a restful night’s sleep inside me.

In other words, she was getting her first taste of what so many others apparently thought of June Manor.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Marie said to herself. “Just remember that.”

As she and Boo got out of the car and crossed the small yard to the front porch, Marie took a moment to reassess how she had ended up here. She certainly couldn’t assume that her three weeks of bed-and-breakfast ownership gave her any right to go into Bloom Gardens and Rest and tell the owner what needed to be done—that was for sure. After all, she was only entertaining this woman’s request for the money so she could keep her own B&B afloat—a B&B that had already endured its share of supernatural activity and controversy.

As they neared the porch, it occurred to Marie that if this bed-and-breakfast was legitimately haunted, she was willingly stepping inside. While she was somewhat fine with admitting that the paranormal had something of a foothold in her own B&B, it was an entirely different matter to willingly walk into a place that was, by the owner’s own words, “being disrupted numerous times on a nightly basis.”

When she stepped up onto the porch, Marie froze for a moment. Was that her imagination, or had the world gone a bit colder?

Boo trotted up the rest of the stairs and waited at the door. Marie followed him and knocked. It made a hollow sound that Marie was sure her already-spooked mind was making out to be much more horrifying than it actually was.

The woman who answered the door stood in direct opposition of the appearance of the house. She looked to be fifty or so, and was dressed in a light yellow summer dress. Her hair was blonde, though she had elected not to go to great lengths to hide the smattering of gray along the roots.

The woman eyed Marie for a moment and took a while to make a smile. Apparently, she was just as weirded out about the situation as Marie was.

“You’re Marie Fortune, I assume?” the woman asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good to meet you, Marie. My name is Anna Grace, owner of Bloom Gardens and Rest.” She then looked down, seeing Boo for the first time. “Oh my, and who is this?”

Boo knew praise when he heard it and went directly to the feet of his new friend. Mrs. Grace scratched him under the chin and rubbed his head.

“This is Boo. And if it’s okay with you, I’d really appreciate it if he could come in with me. He’s my sidekick.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Grace said. “I do love dogs, and this one seems like a sweetheart, but I have never allowed dogs in my house.”

Marie felt her heart seize up in her chest. Oh, that would be perfect—to come all the way out here only to have her secret weapon not allowed in the house. It wouldn’t take very long for her to be found out as a fraud if Boo wasn’t able to come in with her. A small flare of panic sparked within her, but she figured she could at least try to convince Mrs. Grace.

“Oh, I see. Well, he is sort of an integral part of the process. It’s…well, it’s quite hard to explain.” But what she was really thinking was that if Boo was not allowed to come in, the entire situation would crumble. She’d be known as a huge fraud by this time tomorrow.

“I assume he’s housebroken?” Mrs. Grace asked.

“He is. And he barely sheds at all. If you like, I can even vacuum the house for you before I leave.”

Mrs. Grace seemed irritated as she mulled it over. She looked down at Boo and the dog seemed to know he was the topic of discussion. He panted a bit and sniffed at Mrs. Grace’s feet.

“I’ll allow it,” Mrs. Grace said. “Just please keep a careful eye on him.”

The relief Marie felt was instant, but she tried to play it cool by giving a simple yet polite: “Thanks.”

Mrs. Grace nodded and looked outside, where the afternoon was dwindling away into dusk. While she had agreed on meeting at this time with Brendan several days ago, she seemed to be regretting it. “Come on in, both of you, and I’ll give you the tour.”

Mrs. Grace led her inside. And as Marie walked in through the front door, she once again felt the world go just a touch colder. She looked down at Boo to see if he was behaving out of the ordinary, but he seemed completely unbothered. If anything, he looked excited about exploring a new house.

“I can’t be certain,” Mrs. Grace said, leading them into the quaint foyer, “but I believe there are two of them. One seems to be friendly, and the other quite mean.”

“Two of

them

?”

“Ghosts, dear.”

So it was going to be like that, Marie thought. No beating around the bush, no dancing around the spectral elephant in the room. There was something refreshing about it, but also sort of disarming.

Brendan must have loved this lady,

Marie thought.

Marie was listening intently, but she was also taking the time to take the place in. She supposed it had more in common with June Manor than she’d originally thought. Once she got inside, it looked a bit more regal—albeit still spooky. Bloom Gardens and Rest was a two-story building, but it felt as confined as a one-story. It was a peculiar feeling. The ceiling in the foyer was at least twenty feet tall, dipping only the slightest bit as the house gave way to its other rooms. The foyer floor was made of something that resembled subway tile, making a smooth transition into the hallway that appeared to lead off into several bedrooms. Much like June Manor, the stairway to the second level was one of the first things to see as she walked through the front door.

“Did Brendan tell you much about the house?” Mrs. Grace asked.

“Not much,” she said. “I think he was saving that for you.”

Mrs. Grace led them into a small living area occupied by beautiful plush furniture. Marie took a seat on a small loveseat while Mrs. Grace settled into a stately-looking recliner. Boo sat at Marie’s feet.

“It’s been going on for years,” Mrs. Grace said. “At first, it was small things. The salt and pepper shakers would move from the kitchen counter to the powder room sink. The table umbrellas out on the back porch would be closed just as soon as I opened them. My favorite, though, was on a few occasions when I’d have Frank Sinatra playing on my Bluetooth speaker, and there would be this hiss of static and then the Beatles would be playing. And it was

always

‘Strawberry Fields.’ Little things like that.”

“But it got worse?” Marie asked.

“Yes. About six or seven months ago, I got the sense that there was another one. That all these playful little things were from one ghost. And honestly, I don’t know that it ever bothered my guests. I had a few people talk about how they thought they saw something out of the corner of their eye, or how their personal items would go missing only to return to their bedside table right before check-out. But then this other…this other

presence

showed up and it all changed.

“As an example, guests would come to me in the morning swearing that there was this imposing figure standing by the foot of their bed. I even had one couple from Virginia swear that something actually lifted the bed a little bit. Those poor folks checked out of here at two in the morning. The husband looked as white as snow.”

“Have you

seen

either of the figures?” Marie asked.

“I think I’ve seen the mean one. I know when it’s in the room with me because it gets so damned

cold.

And when I tell it to get out, it does….but it’s reluctant. And when it leaves, there have been a few times where I almost see something moving—like a blurred shadow.”

“Is there a dark history to the house?” Marie asked.

“Yes, though I knew none of it until after I purchased it eight years ago. There are police reports that give details of a woman who killed her husband in self-defense. And there are also many rumors around here that claim the man that built the house—the original owner, I suppose—hung himself on the front porch during a thunderstorm.”

Marie shuddered and did her best to hide it. She wanted to leave very badly but, at the same time, couldn’t seem to pull herself out of the seat.

“There’s one other thing, too,” Mrs. Grace added. “My mother used to swear the house she was raised in had a ghost or two in it. She passed away many years ago…and the house was eventually demolished by some big builder. When Mr. Peck was here looking the place over, he told me that such a thing is not unheard of—that there are stories of ghosts sticking with certain families even after they’ve moved into another house. That could be the case here.”

“I see,” Marie said. But she didn’t. She just felt the need to say something so the house wouldn’t fall into silence.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Grace said, “if you need me, I’ll be going to my other house. I live here most of the time, but have been spending more and more time at my little cottage outside of town ever since this second ghost has showed up.”

“You won’t be here?” Marie asked. It felt like the bottom had fallen right out of her stomach.

“No, dear. I don’t think anything here can harm me, but I’d still rather not be around if you tend to aggravate my unwanted guests. I’m so sorry…did Brendan not tell you I would not be staying?”

“No, he failed to mention that part.” She tried to hide her irritation, as she had no quarrel at all with Mrs. Grace. But Brendan was sure going to get a few choice words if she ever saw him again.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry, but I feel that it might be very strange if I stayed here. I’ve already made plans and I’d rather not change them.”

“Of course not,” Marie said. The terror blooming in her heart was almost paralyzing. Even getting those three words out was difficult and there was a childlike waver to her voice that she hoped Mrs. Grace did not hear.

“Ms. Fortune, I do wish you the best of luck,” Mrs. Grace said, already walking toward the door. “If you should need anything at all, my number is on the refrigerator. And help yourself to anything in the fridge, by the way.”

“Thanks. You know, I wonder if—”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Thank you so much for doing this! I’ll see you in the morning.” She opened the door and then, as an afterthought, added: “Maybe be careful about the first bedroom on the second floor. That room in particular is usually pretty…

active

.”

“What do you m—”

Mrs. Grace left so quickly that Marie felt the gust of air left behind by the door as she closed it. When the door shut behind her, Marie felt that it was a concrete slab being pushed in front of a tomb.

“All right,” Marie said, looking at Boo. “Get to work, boy. Let’s get this over with and get out of here.”

Boo looked at her quizzically but then turned and started walking through the house as if he had understood her perfectly. Marie paid very close attention to every nook, cranny, and corner, but was also mentally drafting up a nasty text message that she would soon be sending to Brendan Peck.

Boo, meanwhile, walked through the house as if he owned the place, taking a moment here and there to sniff things of interest. Marie followed him around for a while but when it was clear that he was doing his own thing, Marie summoned up as much courage as she could find and started taking a self-guided tour of the house.

There were four bedrooms downstairs, all of which were essentially the same: queen-sized beds with soft-colored linens, each bed sitting on a large decorative rug that covered about half of the rooms’ well-kept hardwood floors. They also visited Mrs. Grace’s bedroom, and then what looked like a den—a communal room of sorts where Marie could picture guests drinking coffee or tea, reading books, and chatting.

She then went upstairs where there were two more bedrooms identical to the ones downstairs. Boo was trailing behind her now and as he rushed ahead, Marie remembered Mrs. Grace’s last warning—that the first bedroom upstairs was particularly active. She only glanced into the room. But even in that brief encounter, she could absolutely feel something strange about the room. For just a moment, it felt like she was sticking her head into an old chasm that had gone centuries without human contact.

But as soon as she stepped out of the room, it was gone. She shook the feeling off, but noted that Boo had walked in for a moment and seemed to be interested in something. Whatever it was only held his attention for a moment before he turned around and headed back out into the hallway.

At the end of the hallway was a larger room that served as a game room. There was a pool table and a dartboard, but they were both covered. A small bookcase also held a variety of board games. From the look of the room alone, Marie got the feeling that the room was rarely used.

The tour ended back downstairs in the kitchen, and then out on the large back porch. The back porch seemed to be the only modernized thing about the house; the fresh lumber was a telltale sign that it had recently been remodeled or repaired. The porch looked out over a long field that actually looked quite stunning as the sun set—the gardens from the name of the bed-and-breakfast. It had nothing on the beach view from the back porch of June Manor, but it had its own sort of quiet charm.

After the back porch, Marie returned to the little living room. As she reclaimed the seat she’d occupied before, she tried to make herself relax. Maybe this was all a big hoax of some kind. Maybe Mrs. Grace had heard about what had happened with June Manor and was playing an elaborate prank on her.

But as the afternoon lugged in the dusk and the yard outside grew darker, she somehow sensed that those were all just hopes and wishful thinking. Even Boo seemed to get a little unnerved as night approached.

“It’s okay, Boo,” she said. “And I’m so sorry I put you in this situ—”

She was interrupted by a soft clunking noise that came from the kitchen. Both Marie and Boo swiftly turned their heads. Marie’s shoulders went tense and Boo’s tail went rigid. Marie felt herself getting to her feet and knew what she was about to do. She tried to tell herself not to, but before she knew it, she was on her feet and running for the door.