Alexie Aaron - Checking Out

This brought a softening of Mrs. Brewster. Audrey was amazed to see the stout battle-axe once again become Amelia. Mike sure had a way with women, alive and dead.

“Okay, but don’t be too long. We have to make an early start,” Audrey said. “Mrs. Brewster, thank you for your hospitality. Would it cause an inconvenience if we left at eight?”

“Oh no, dear, we’re prepared for early risers.”

“Good night,” Audrey said. She walked to the stairs, and as her back was to them, she turned on the mini camera she had concealed in the clutch purse she brought with her. She would continue to film until the battery ran out.

Mike took a seat just inside the front parlor. “Amelia, you wouldn’t have a little tipple around would you?”

“I’m normally a teetotaler, but I do keep some cherry cordial for medicinal purposes. Calms the nerves,” she said blushing.

“I’d love some, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Mike said, his words as sweet and potent as the aforementioned beverage.

Upstairs, Audrey went about the business of investigating. She took readings of the room she and Mike were assigned. She noticed that the closer she got to the outside walls of the room, the stronger the magnetic field was. She pulled on a flannel gown over the long underwear Mia insisted she bring and went about the masquerade of getting ready for bed. Audrey pulled on a warm housecoat and slid her stocking feet into the warm fuzzy slippers her mother gave her for Christmas. She left their suite and did a sweep of the hall, taking readings. She had taken the precaution of having a hot water bottle to hand if anyone asked why she was walking around. She would claim she didn’t want to bother anyone and was looking for a less than public way down to the kitchen. Inside the pockets of her robe she had a small arsenal of recording devices.

The hall was quiet. Audrey moved in and out of the rooms gathering evidence. She found only one door locked to her. Not having the ability to unlock it quickly, she left that room for later. Instead, she took the back stairs. She wanted to go into the attic but felt explaining why she had gone up instead of down to Mrs. Brewster was beyond her acting abilities. Perhaps, on the way back to her room she would pass by the second floor landing in error…

“I can’t just leave her,” Millie insisted. “She’ll be all alone and…”

“You’re my wife, and I want us to be together. If you loved your job, then I would spend eternity here with you, but it’s plain to see that you hate it here,” Paul said.

“I do hate it here,” Millie admitted. “It was only supposed to be temporary until mother retired or took on a partner.”

“That never happened. She’s too used to depending on you. Look at tonight, it was supposed to be our anniversary celebration, and she asked you to stay the night because she’s got a few guests. It’s time for her to retire or learn to stand on her own.”

“If what you say is true about the Dew Drop Inn being a ghost hotel and we are all dead, then it really doesn’t matter if I stay or not,” Millie said sadly.

“It matters to me!” Mrs. Brewster bellowed from the doorway. “How can you desert me, you ungrateful child. After all the money your father and I spent on educating you.”

“Mother Brewster,” Paul started to say.

“Don’t you Mother Brewster me, you disruptor. Get out!”

“I’m not leaving without Millie,” Paul insisted. “She and I are leaving in the morning after your guests have been fed. You’ll have plenty of time to find someone else to take her place.”

Audrey, who had been listening to the conversation from the back steps, pondered whether Paul remembered why he was there and that he, Millie and her mother were dead. Mia warned Audrey a time or two about how ghosts had no idea of time passing and would repeat history over and over again without knowing it. She didn’t need him to suddenly remember the plan and give up the game. That would put her and Mike in danger. She backed up a few steps and noisily stomped down the last few treads humming a tune. She turned the corner to see all three ghosts staring at her.

“Excuse me, could one of you get me some hot water? The taps in the bathroom aren’t hot enough, and our room is so cold,” she explained sweetly.

Mrs. Brewster dropped her glare and pasted a smile on her face. “Dear, that will be no problem. She walked over and grabbed the bottle and shoved it at Millie. “My daughter will heat the water and bring it up to you shortly. Why don’t you go back to your room? I’ll make sure the fire’s lit.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful,” Audrey said. “You’re so kind. I’m so glad we stayed.” She retreated up the stairs, making sure her retreating footsteps were loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. She did look behind her and could have sworn that Mrs. Brewster had followed her up a few steps. Fearing she was being followed by the woman, Audrey cancelled her trip to the attic. She instead rushed to her room where she found it empty, and the fire had already been lit.

Millie put the kettle on and waited for it to warm. She watched her mother as she returned from the stairs. She had seemed to have forgotten the previous argument. Instead, she started up a conversation with Paul about the dry weather they had been having. Millie looked out the kitchen window and saw snow. The realization hit her. All the nonsense that Mr. Hicks and Paul were spouting was true. She was stuck in the inn for eternity unless she found a way to escape. Paul had come for her, but the spell of the inn was causing him to lose focus. It was plain to see that she would have to step up and save both of them.

She filled the bottle and put it on a tray with some herbal tea and a few cookies. “I’ll take this up. Mother, you rest and enjoy the rest of the evening. Paul, could you help me with laying the fire?”

Mrs. Brewster was about to tell them that the fire had been set but stopped. If she could encourage Paul to abandon the farm and stay on as a handyman, then Millie would be forced to stay, and she wouldn’t have to look for another woman to fill her shoes. She spied the cherry cordial bottle and remembered she had left that nice Mr. Dupree in the parlor. She put the bottle on a round serving tray with two cordial glasses and left the kitchen.

“I never quite got a grip on Mrs. Brewster,” Burt said.

Ted refrained from adding an inappropriate comment.

“One minute she was all nicey-nicey, the next she was Attila’s role model.”

“Mercurial people often don’t realize what they are doing,” Cid mentioned.

“No, this was almost a dual personality thing going on,” Burt argued. He was about to say more when Mia interrupted.

“How was the inn to you? I mean, did the atmosphere change when Mrs. Brewster did?”

“Aside from the fifty yard drop to the ground, no. It still wanted to be hospitable. At one point it seemed as if it wanted to keep me. Does this make any sense?” he asked.

Mia thought for a moment. “It seemed to me the brief time I was there that the building responded to Mrs. Brewster’s needs or she to its. But I never felt threatened until Mr. Chop started bisecting the furniture. Then it became dangerous. The self-preservation mode went into effect. The floor felt like it would digest us if we slipped between the boards.”

“We did want you to go back and talk to the inn itself,” Cid began, “but after hearing your story, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“That’s what you were talking about when I arrived. Talk to the Dew Drop, now that’s novel,” Mia said. She pushed her hand through her hair as she thought.

Ted looked over at his wife and was mesmerized by her. It wasn’t her Nordic blonde hair and soft green eyes that made her so beautiful to him, it was her mind and her heart. He could tell that she was thinking through the situation before speaking. She was examining all the data she had stored in her head on haunted houses, ghosts and ley lines. He caught Cid looking at him looking at his wife and winked. “Quiet, computer is processing.”