Judith McWilliams - Anything's Possible!

“That’s it!” Cassie exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with sudden excitement. “It’s perfect. It’s even timely.”

Hannah frowned in confusion. “Mice?”

“No, ghosts! Don’t you see, Aunt Hannah? It’s the perfect gimmick. We’ll say that China View is haunted!”

“But that’ll drive people away,” Hannah protested.

“No, it won’t,” Cassie said with absolute conviction. “People love ghosts. I’ll bet we’ll be filled to capacity as soon as the news gets out.”

“But how’s it going to get out?”

“We’re going to help it, of course.” Cassie’s soft pink lips lifted in a mischievous smile. “All we have to do is tell a few people that we saw what looked like a ghost, and the story’ll be all over the coast by week’s end. Maybe I can get Ed Veach at the newspaper to do a feature story on the sighting.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Isn’t that false advertising?” Hannah asked worriedly.

“Only if we actually claim that the inn has a ghost. And all I’m going to do is imply like crazy.”

“But...”

“If you don’t like the idea, Aunt Hannah, then of course I won’t use it. But I really don’t think it’s wrong. It’s not like we’re charging more and promising a ghost.”

“Our customers do get good value for their money,” Hannah said slowly.

“And they’ll have a great time trying to contact our ghost,” Cassie added. “Do you know if there’s ever been a hint of a ghost here at China View?”

“Not a murmur. I think ghosts are supposed to haunt places where violent deeds occurred, and nothing like that ever happened here.”

“What did happen here?” Cassie asked.

“Not much. Jonas Middlebury built China View for his fiancée, Millicent Whitney, and drowned at sea right afterward. He left the house to Millicent, and she lived here until she died, shortly before the First World War. She willed it to her nephew, who was your grandfather, and when he died, he left it to me, since your papa had already moved to Boston. Nobody has ever even died here.”

“Hmm, not much to work with.” Cassie wrinkled her small, straight nose in disappointment. “Too bad we didn’t have a more adventurous set of relatives. Jonas sounds the most interesting of the lot. How about if we claim that he’s our specter?”

Hannah pushed her glasses back on her nose as she considered the idea. “He’s probably our best choice. But what happens when no one ever sees him? People will stop coming, and I’ll be right back where I was.”

“What makes you think that they aren’t going to see him?” The twinkle in Cassie’s eyes deepened perceptively.

Hannah stared at her uncertainly. “Are they?”

“Yes,” Cassie said slowly. “Not indiscriminate sightings, of course. Just an occasional glimpse.”

“Moira Featheringham,” Hannah unexpectedly said.

Cassie blinked. “Who?”

“An old friend of mine, dear. Moira is very active in our local theatrical group. She might know where we could hire someone to play the part of Jonas.”

“Aunt Hannah, that’s perfect!” Cassie beamed approvingly at her.

“Thank you, dear. I’ll call Moira right now. Would you check the pantry for signs of mice and then keep an eye on the front desk for me? The only reservation I’ve had in weeks is supposed to arrive sometime late this morning.”

“Glad to.”

“And if you should need me for anything, dear, I’ll be up in the attic. I want to make a start on going through the old trunks up there for the church rummage sale.” With a preoccupied smile, Hannah disappeared up the back stairs.

Cassie finished off the last of the raspberries and then went to check the pantry. Opening the door, she stuck her head inside and glanced around. The window was closed, which left a mouse as the culprit. Stepping inside, she moved a few pans, looking for telltale droppings, but there was nothing to be seen.

Cassie frowned as she picked up an aluminum pie plate lying on the floor. It must have been stacked off balance and finally fallen, she decided as she carried it back to the kitchen. She set it down on the counter to be washed and then poured herself a mug of coffee, bringing it out to the tiny room off the lobby that served as an office. While she had the chance, she intended to go over the inn’s books to try to get some idea of how her aunt stood financially.

Two hours later, Cassie had a much clearer picture of the situation, as well as a more optimistic view of the future. While it was true that China View was expensive to run, Hannah had resisted the impulse to borrow. With the exception of the taxes, she had no outstanding debts. If they could just lure some of her guests back, Hannah and Gertie would be fine.

Cassie looked up as she heard the sound of a car engine straining up the steep incline of the inn’s driveway. Aunt Hannah’s lone reservation? she wondered as she got to her feet. She straightened the front of her copper silk camp shirt and adjusted the thin leather belt on her white linen slacks before going to greet what she hoped was a paying customer.

She hurried through the inn’s small lobby to the large window that faced the parking area in front. She peered out, but in the bright sunlight all she could see was a dark shape inside a white car. A rental car, she discovered, recognizing the sticker on the bumper.

Cassie instinctively leaned forward as the car door opened, curious as to what kind of guest they were about to get. Not the senior-citizen type China View normally attracted, she realized with sudden interest as a man slowly emerged from the car. This man was younger. Much younger. She studied the long, lean length of his legs, which were covered by a pair of tan cotton-twill pants, for an appreciative moment. Then her gaze skimmed upward over his flat stomach to linger speculatively on the width of his broad shoulders. Shoulders made even broader by the thick white cotton sweater he was wearing.

As she watched, he turned and, keeping one hand on the car door as if for support, studied the inn. The bright June sunlight poured over him, gilding his tanned skin to a shade of deep amber and adding a golden sheen to his honey brown hair. He looked aloof, remote and untouchable. As if he were a Greek god suddenly transported to earth.

Cassie shook her head in an effort to break the strange spell that the stranger’s presence had enmeshed her in. It wasn’t like her to react so fancifully to a man, she thought uneasily. Her years in advertising had long since taught her that physical looks counted for very little. They could be altered to create almost any image a person desired, just as they could mask virtually anything. It was the personality behind the looks that counted.

She watched as the man reached into the back seat of his car and pulled out a battered leather suitcase. He had a nice tush. In fact, he had a nice everything. Did everything include a wife? Her eyes narrowed consideringly. Somehow he didn’t look like anybody’s husband. He looked too... Cassie struggled to put a name to her impression. Unrestrained, she finally decided. He had an aura of being free and accountable to no one.

The sound of his footsteps on the weathered wooden boards of the front porch interrupted her speculations, and she retreated behind the reception desk.

The string of small bells above the front door gave off a silvery tinkle as the man pushed it open and stepped inside. His gaze swept around the small lobby assessingly, coming to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of Cassie. Leaving his suitcase just inside the door, he walked over to the reception desk and gave her a warm smile.

Even though Cassie was well used to the orthodontically perfect, gleaming white smiles of the male models she worked with, she was still taken aback. It wasn’t that this man’s smile was whiter or wider. It was that it was real, she realized. There was honest amusement in it. An amusement that was reflected in the tiny golden flecks that seemed to float in his dark brown eyes.