Spooked solid, p.1
Spooked Solid, page 1
Eerie Check In
Mystic Inn Mysteries
Stephanie Damore
Pink Sapphire Press
Copyright © 2021 by Stephanie Damore
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To Libby,
For your love and light
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Coming Soon
Also by Stephanie Damore
Complete Works
About the Author
Chapter One
Crash! The flatscreen television Benny, the contractor, was installing above the fireplace smashed into a million pieces across the floor. I jumped, splashing my cup of coffee down the front of my blouse and onto my leather sandals.
“Ope! Sorry about that,” Benny called down to us.
Aunt Thelma waved the contractor’s remark away. “We’re fine!” she sang back before innocently turning around to face me.
A mixture of glass and black plastic littered the floor. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. The inn's renovation was a nightmare, and I couldn't even blame it on our resident ghost, Percy the Poltergeist. First, the adhesive for the tile floors hadn't held. I could feel the tiles shifting under my feet, just waiting to be ripped out and replaced once more. After that, the new furniture went missing somewhere around Biloxi, Mississippi (if you could trust the shipping updates). And now, none of the second-floor guest rooms had working bathrooms. Benny’s crew had ripped out shower surrounds and toilets only to learn that the new ones were on backorder.
"Is he okay up there?" I side-eyed the older man balancing precariously on the top of the ladder, inspecting his handiwork, or lack thereof, while I dabbed the coffee stain off my blouse. It was pointless. I needed to change and treat the stain before it set in. Just another task to add to my to-do list. My stress level was dangerously high, and if I weren't careful, Aunt Thelma would insist I down a potion, or worse, raise her wand to "cure" me. I could admit that I was a witch now, but that didn't mean I wanted to be magicked. I saw what happened to the last guy.
"Oh, he's fine," Aunt Thelma glanced at the contractor over her shoulder with a shrug, sounding much too blasé.
I looked skeptical. The last thing we needed was someone getting hurt. Around us, workers buzzed about, cutting new shelving and switching the overhead lighting to LED bulbs. I kept my voice low, "Do you think we should hire someone else?" It wasn't the first time I'd expressed my concerns. I knew Benny was an old friend of my aunt's, but his project management skills were non-existent and this was a big job.
"How can you say that? It's not his fault the grout didn't mix, and I'm the one who ordered the furniture.”
"And the TV?" I watched as a worker cleaned up the mess with a big push broom.
"Well, that's just an accident. Things will sort themselves out, you'll see."
I didn't have nearly the same optimism Aunt Thelma did. The fall festival was at the end of the week, the inn was booked solid for the event, and the renovations were not close to being done. I picked my coffee cup back up and looked down at my clipboard on the registration desk. The renovation schedule had been edited and re-edited. Red ink crossed out delivery dates only to have new dates come and go.
I looked back at my hodgepodge schedule. Today we were supposed to be staging—putting fresh flowers in the lobby, displaying artwork on the walls, and hanging the new welcome sign out front. Now, we'd be lucky if all the rooms had running water by the weekend.
"Hello?" The woman's cheerful voice echoed off the empty lobby.
I snapped my head up, and my mouth fell open. I couldn't believe who'd just walked in. It was a deer-in-headlights moment if I'd ever had one. I gave an inward groan at my rotten luck because that's officially what this was. I was convinced of it. Either that or we'd been cursed. I couldn't rule that out.
"Sophia? My word, it is you!" Aunt Thelma strode around the check-in counter and met her long-time friend and Silverlake's most famous resident with a fierce embrace.
Dread filled every inch of my being. I wished any other reservation would've checked in early. Sophia Emerson was the perfect housewife of the witching world. She built an empire around the motto: Any Witch Can Do It!—referencing her numerous cookbooks and crafting shows. Sophia believed that if you were a witch, all you needed was the proper spell and a healthy dose of self-esteem, and the world was your oyster shell. Now here she was, strolling into our disaster of an inn. My face flushed with embarrassment. I mentally calculated how much trouble I'd get into if I froze Sophia on the spot and used a memory charm to erase the last minute until I could figure out what to do with her. I grimaced, imagining Deputy Amber Reynolds hauling me away in handcuffs. A smile on her face. I looked down, noting the stain on my blouse, and turned a deeper shade of crimson if that was even possible.
"What on earth are you doing here? You're a few days early!" Aunt Thelma held her friend at arm’s length. Unlike my heated complexion, Aunt Thelma's glowed in happiness from the surprise.
"My schedule cleared up at the last minute, so here I am. I hope that's okay?"
"Of course! It's just that the inn's not quite ready for visitors. But I'm sure Angelica has a solution. You remember my niece?"
"Hi, Sophia, nice to see you again." I held out my hand to shake hers.
Sophia replied with a firm grip as she pumped my hand up and down.
"I know I should've called, but Arthur insisted we surprise you." Sophia apologized again.
"Arthur's here?" Aunt Thelma looked over Sophia's head, trying to spot her husband.
"Well, not right this second. He's golfing with Mike. But he'll join us for dinner." Sophia paused and looked hesitantly around the lobby. "I mean...if that's okay." For the first time since walking in, doubt clouded her eyes. Taking in a disaster tended to do that to a person.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Aunt Thelma bristled. The look I shot my aunt suggested otherwise. "The patio's inviting as ever, and we can order takeout from the Simmering Spoon," Aunt Thelma continued, ignoring my hesitation. She was doing that a lot lately.
"Do they still serve those mussels? You know the ones I'm talking about." Sophia's eyes sparkled.
"With the white wine sauce and crusty bread?" Aunt Thelma added.
"Yes!" Sophia clapped her hands.
"They haven't changed the recipe since you wrote it thirty years ago," Aunt Thelma remarked.
"Hush now. Has it been that long?" Sophia appeared to calculate the dates in her head. "You were being generous," she said with a laugh.
A buzz saw punctuated the air, and thank heavens I still wasn't holding my coffee cup, or I would've dumped the whole thing down the front of me.
"Watch where you're cutting!" Benny yelled down at a worker. "I said fifteen inches, not twelve! Watch it!"
Sophia grimaced. "I can stay somewhere else. Really, it's not a problem," she said once the saw stopped whirling.
"Oh, stop. We can make something work. Right, Angelica?"
It was my turn to do some mental math. "I don't have any suites, but there are two adjoining rooms down the hall. Would those work? They're lake view with a small patio and outdoor access." I couldn't hide the skepticism in my voice. Sophia was used to the best of the best. Penthouse suites with butlers at the waiting, not guest rooms turned storage closets. I wish I were exagerating, but it was a fact. Most of the ground-floor rooms were piled with boxes full of new duvets, drapes, and towels, waiting to be unpacked and used once the rooms were complete.
"Anything is fine, really," Sophia's words rang hollow. Maybe it was her wrinkle-free linen suit after a cross-country flight or her polished designer shoes, but I wasn't buying it.
Still, I played along. "I'm going to need a bit of time to get the rooms ready." And a bit of help. I wondered how hard it would be to conjure the boxes upstairs to my apartment and where I would store them once I did.
"Don't worry, I know just the spell," Aunt Thelma said under her breath while Sophia was distracted by the workmen.
"This room has great bones. With the elevated ceiling and fireplace, I could see why you want to hang the television there." Sophia assessed the lobby as Benny re-attached the television bracket.
"Thanks. That was my idea." Previously the old boxy television sat in front of the lobby's two sofas. But with the addition of the stone fireplace surround and mantel, I thought lifting the television off the ground made the space feel bigger.
"Except if I'm not mistaken, that's limestone." Sophia pointed to the stone above the fireplace. "Good luck getting a TV to hold. It'll never happen. Not without a bit of magic and the right bolts anyway."
"Is that so?" Aunt Thelma said with raised eyebrows.
"I'll make sure to let him know." I excused myself to talk with Benny
"If you'd like any help, I'd love to lend a hand. We could even film it!" Sophia hollered after me.
I turned around.
Aunt Thelma's eyes brightened.
Sophia rubbed her fingers together absentmindedly, making the symbol for cash, as she re-designed the space in her head.
"I think we're going to pass," I replied, cautiously.
"What? Why. I think it's a great idea," Aunt Thelma scoffed.
"I don’t know. We don’t have a lot of time, and the last thing we need is more people here. It's chaotic enough." I jumped back as Percy flew in front of my face, my foot slipping on the tile floor as I tried to get out of his way. Thankfully I caught my balance.
"Wouldn't it be great for advertising?" Aunt Thelma drew the last word out, emphasizing it. "You're the one that's always on my case about drumming up business."
"It would be if had planned it out right, which we didn’t. Maybe next time?”
I could see Aunt Thelma wanted to continue the discussion, but now wasn’t the right time, not in front of Sophia.
“Can we talk about this later? I want to tell Benny about the bolt.” I turned back around before my aunt could reply.
"Oh, don't listen to Angelica. She has her wand in a knot with this renovation. We'll convince her tonight," Aunt Thelma conspired behind me, not bothering to hide it.
I closed my eyes, and took a calming breath. Later, in private, I’d explain to my aunt why I thought Sophia's suggestion was a bad idea. You didn't just open your business to a production crew on a whim. Given the way the inn looked, they'd paint us as the most incompetent witches who ever lived this side of Salem—and broadcast it. I shivered, mortified at the thought.
When I opened my eyes, I had the contractor in my sights. Right, the bolt. Shoulders set square, and attitude readjusted, I headed his way.
I made it two steps when something fell from the ceiling, just missing my head. Instinctively, I jumped back. This time I wasn’t so lucky. My hands flew out to protect myself, but the tile slipped from under my feet, causing me to fall on my backside. Glass shattered in front of me at the same time.
"What the devil?" Sophia replied.
I looked above at the recessed light socket where a bulb once hung.
Aunt Thelma rushed to give me a hand up. "You okay, dear?"
I winced. That was going to leave a bruise on my backside, but other than that, I was fine.
"And you thought I was trouble," Percy sailed through the lobby with a chuckle. He was right. I'd take a trickster ghost any day to this mess.
"Who didn't screw in the lightbulbs?" Benny yelled from the ladder.
"I can see you guys are very busy here. How about I run into town, say my hellos, and pop back in a couple of hours?" Sophia backtracked out of her offer to help and out of the inn as her feet inched backward.
"That would be perfect!" Aunt Thelma beamed as if everything would be right as rain by then. I wasn't so sure.
"I'll see you soon!" Sophia disappeared out the door as fast as her heels could safely carry her.
"What are we going to do?" I groaned once Sophia was safely out of earshot.
"Don't panic. I have everything under control."
I gave my aunt the side-eye. Her idea of under control was vastly different from mine. "Don't give me that look. It’s not attractive. Now first thing's first, we need to miniaturize those boxes. That way, we can move them in a snap." Aunt Thelma snapped her fingers for emphasis. "Then I'll activate some charms and voilà. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy!"
"I think it's stressy, depressy, lemon zesty," I sighed, having a bad feeling about all of this.
Aunt Thelma chose to ignore me. "Now, where is my wand?"
"Did you check the cookie jar?"
"It's not in the cookie jar." Aunt Thelma dismissed my comment as absurd.
"It could be." On more than one occasion, I'd found my aunt's wand in odd places like the refrigerator, her tea pot, and even the microwave.
"On second thought, you might be right. And if not, I can snag a cookie while I look. Have you tried Diane's double chocolate ones? They're to die for."
Diane was the owner of La Luna Bakery, and her desserts were heavenly. For the first time that morning, I found myself agreeing with my aunt.
Chapter Two
I had to admit, miniaturizing the boxes had been a brilliant idea. It only took two grocery bags full to carry the now three by three-inch square boxes that were once ten times as big to my room. I dropped the bags on my bed and caught my reflection in the mirror. Stress lines creased my forehead and dark circles bruised under my eyes. Aunt Thelma was right, it was not an attractive look. I used my fingertips and attempted to smooth the creases away and promised myself I’d turn in early that night.
My phone chimed in my pocket, snapping me out of my self-assessment.
"Where are you?" The message read. It was from Diane, who was also one of the festival committee members.
"Gah! The festival meeting!" I'd completely forgotten. So much for relaxing. The stress lines were instantly back in place. I turned on my heel and jogged downstairs to where Aunt Thelma was bibity bobity booing the guest rooms.
"What spell would fix this?" Aunt Thelma asked herself as she stared at the oversized floral wallpaper. Her wand was in one hand and a cookie in the other.
"Aunt Thelma—"
"Your meeting. Yes, I just remembered. You go. Don't worry. I have everything under control."
"You sure?"
"Honey, please." Aunt Thelma gave me a pointed look.
"Good point." Where spells were concerned, she was the more skilled witch. I gave her arm a squeeze as I passed through.
Normally, I'd take the Enchanted Trail over to Village Square for my meeting—the quaint shopping district was a fifteen-minute walk along the lake—but today, I didn't have time.
I snagged Aunt Thelma's car keys from the office, yelled over the workmen that I was borrowing her car, and headed out the door. The sounds of nature outside were a welcome respite, and the change in decibels was profound. I thought my ears were ringing from the buzz saw for a second, but it turned out to be a symphony of insects as they joined in the chorus. I preferred nature's soundtrack any day to calamity inside Mystic Inn. I decided then and there that it was good to get out, if only for a quick meeting.
It was a short drive around the bend and over the stream to Village Square's parking lot. Sidewalks and flagstone paths connected the storybook shops. If you were lucky, you found a parking spot up front along the perimeter. If not, you had to park in one of the side lots and make your way over to the shops on foot.
Today, I was not lucky, and at this point, I wasn't surprised. As I circled the parking lot, looking for a place to park, I glanced over at Wishing Well Park to see how the festival's setup was going. With its ample, green space and towering fountain, the park was a perfect spot to host the festival. Local business owners had all pitched in to make the event happen, including donating money for the stage Mr. McCormick, town council member, and greenhouse manager, was currently assembling. Vendors were at various stages of setting up their booths. Red and white striped tents dotted the landscape. Once word got out about the festival, witches from all over the region flocked to Silverlake to sign up. Adding vendors turned out to be a smart idea as it brought in additional revenue, which the town desperately needed. That was, after all, what inspired me to suggest the festival in the first place.
I waved at Connie, owner of the potions shop, Mix it Up!, as she pushed a dolly stacked with clear totes full of glass vials. Shimmery blue, sparkling green, and vibrant red liquid shown through the transparent containers. I assumed she was headed to the park to set up shop. It had been Connie's idea to create a local marketplace featuring samples of the Village Square shops in the park. The idea was people would like what they saw and head over to the shopping district to buy more. Then, out-of-town vendors contacted us and asked if they could come too, and the town council said yes (well, the majority of them anyway.) Now here we were with a packed park just waiting for tourists to arrive.
