Crazy in Love (9 page)

There was a long, awkward pause as Flynn stared out into the sea of faces. Jake pushed up from the boxes and stepped a little closer.

“Um, okay then,” she said, letting go with a nervous laugh. “That’s pretty much it. If you don’t have any questions—”

“
Do you have any experience in running a hotel?” Jake glanced toward the voice, which had come from Hildy, the head of housekeeping and one of the more skeptical faces.

“
You mean, me personally?” Flynn cleared her throat. “Well, my family has been in real estate development for a long time, and over the years we’ve owned a number of hospitality businesses.”

“
My dad was a mechanic,” someone to Jake’s left grumbled. “Doesn’t make me a car.”

“
Esther gave us raises on the anniversaries of our hire dates,” Selah, one of the bar waitresses, called out. “My anniversary is in October. So am I just shit outta luck or what?”

Selah wasn
’t known for her delicate nature.

“
I, uh…” Flynn blinked a few times. “I haven’t had time to review Aunt Esther’s financial policies, but—” A hand waved in the air, and relief flashed across Flynn’s face as she pointed to Annabelle. “Yes, Annabelle?”

Annabelle stood up.
“I think what people want to know is, you know, if you’re going to sell to a big chain or something? Because, I mean, we know they don’t, like, disembowel people and put their heads on pikes—”

Jake dropped his face into his hand and laughed.

“—but, you know, they do sometimes come in and kinda clean house and we all really like it here and like this place the way it is.”

Flynn
’s eyebrows knit and she seemed frozen while trying to unweave the delicate strands of Annabelle’s logic. “Um… was there a question in there… somewhere?”

“
Yeah. She’s asking if you’re going to sell us out.” Oscar, one of the landscaping guys, took a step forward from where he was standing at the back. “Because if you are, we need to know so we can find other jobs.”

“
Well…” Flynn’s eyebrows were practically meeting above her nose. “I mean… even if we did sell, you’d keep your jobs.”

Oscar folded his arms over his chest.
“Can you promise that? Can you put that in writing?”

Flynn looked like she
’d been slapped, and Jake felt a knot of anger rise in his gut. Despite the fact that he had no one to blame but himself, he really wanted to take Oscar outside and pummel his fat head.

“
In writing?” Flynn said. “No, I can’t. But if someone
takes over this place, someone who… who… who knows what they’re doing… I mean, why wouldn’t they keep you?”

“
Because we get paid decent,” Selah said.

Oscar nodded.
“Esther valued us, and she paid us like she valued us. You think a big chain is going to do that, sweetheart? Think again.”

Flynn blinked.
“I… uh… well… I…”

Jake had expected this to happen. Watching how Flynn responded to the situation was a big part of getting to know who he was dealing with. It was
his
response that was throwing him for a loop. He hadn’t anticipated how impossible it would be for him to simply stand back and watch her swing.

He took a step forward.

“I was wondering,” he said, noting the completely reasonable expression of alarm in Flynn’s eyes as he walked up the aisle toward her, “what you thought of the place?”

He stopped, mid-aisle. There was a pause while Flynn seemed to be waiting for the sucker punch, but when it didn
’t come, she allowed a small smile.

“
I think it’s…” She paused for a moment, seeming to fight within herself until one side won. Her face relaxed a bit, and an almost-smile played on her lips. “I think it’s incredible. The grounds are gorgeous, and so well kept. And the lobby is… oh, if I could move into that lobby, I would, I’m telling you.” There was a mild smattering of appreciative laughter. Flynn motioned out to the area where Mercy had taken a seat. “The pumpkin risotto is a dream come true.”

“
So it’s safe to say you’re impressed, right?” Jake kept his eyes on her.

She met his gaze and nodded.
“Yes.”

“
Well, considering you haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours yet, I think that’s pretty much all we can ask.”

“
Bullshit,” Oscar said. “We can ask about the sale.” The room went starkly quiet. Jake turned toward Oscar, wanting to pummel him now more than ever.

“
She just got here, man,” he said in a low voice. “Back off.”

“
No.”

“
It’s okay.”

Jake raised his head to find Flynn moving he
r focus over the crowd, connecting with as many people as possible. “It’s a fair question. It deserves a fair answer. The truth is, I don’t know. The decisions haven’t been made, and I honestly don’t know yet what we’re going to do. If you feel that you want to look for employment elsewhere, I certainly wouldn’t fault you. But I think this place is very special, and I hope those of you who think so too will stay.”

Flynn gave one quick, decisive nod to the crowd and left the podium. She walked gracefully down the aisle, but Jake could see her hands shaking as she passed him by. He stood where he was, watching the doorway through which she
’d disappeared, until he felt a faint tug on his sleeve.

“
Oh, hey, Annabelle,” he said, glancing down at her quickly before returning his stare to the doorway.

“
Um, Flynn had those boxes come in for her, and Herman almost put his back out—what do you think she
has in them? A dead body? Anyway, I thought maybe you could—”

“
Have Clyde do it,” he said quietly, pulling his focus away from the door and turning a forced smile on Annabelle. “I’m the last person Flynn wants to see right now.”

“
Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Annabelle said. “She seems really nice.”

“
She is really nice,” Jake said, still staring at the doorway.

Too bad I
’m a total asshole,
he thought.

Six

“Oh, God,” Flynn groaned, sitting up in her bed. “You again?”

The room was golden. Aunt Esther was sitting in the corner, rocking on her phantom rocking chair, not caring that the real one
had been turned backward and her face was passing back and forth through the wooden slats that supported the headrest. Flynn made a mental note to turn it back around in the morning; this was infinitely creepier than the first time.

Esther set the purple afghan in her lap and looked at Flynn.
“I’ve come to a decision.”

Flynn closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to alter her dream through sheer force of will.

Okay. Sunny beach. A drink with an umbrella, delivered by a faceless yet handsome man wearing only a wink and a smile.

“
Ahem.”

Lady, stop screwing up my concentration
.
Okay. Ocean breezes. Warm sand. Fully loaded drink. Faceless Yet Handsome wearing a wink and a smile… and
a mysterious tattoo right above his—

“
Ahem
.”

Flynn opened her eyes.
“You don’t like me very much, do you? Because you know this is just mean, right?”

Esther picked up her afghan and continued knitting.
“It’s not a matter of whether I like you or not. It would appear we’re stuck with each other. And it occurs to me that the white light of which you speak so fondly may not be available to me until we figure out whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing.” She raised her eyes to Flynn’s, yanked out a loop of yam, and wrapped it militantly around the tip of the needle.

“
What
we’re
supposed to be doing?
We
are not supposed to be doing anything. I’m supposed to be sleeping, and you’re supposed to be dead.” She sniffed. “And why does this place always smell like peppermint? Is that like a special ghost thing? I’ve had the windows wide open for two days—”

Esther stopped rocking and focused her ghostly eyes on Flynn.
“I need you to do something for me.”

“
Do exorcisms only work on demons? Couldn’t a good priest just”—she wiggled her fingers toward the apparition—“cast you out?”

Esther rolled her eyes.
“You really are a prickly little thing, aren’t you?”

“
Sometimes. Maybe.” Flynn swallowed. “Can you blame me? You’re really creeping me out.”

Esther sighed.
“I can see how you’re Elizabeth’s granddaughter. Same contentious nature.”

“
Gee, I wonder if I’d be less contentious on a full night’s sleep. Let’s try it, shall we?”

Whoosh.

Suddenly Flynn wasn’t in her bed anymore. She was in the corner of the Rose Banquet Room, watching herself staring down at Tucker from behind the podium. Tucker was standing in the aisle, smirking up at her with that smirky little smirk. After throwing her up there like a piece of raw meat in front of a pack of wolves, he had the nerve to stand in that aisle and come to her defense with that smirk?

Whatever.

“So it’s safe to say you’re impressed, right?” His words were soft and fuzzy, echoing through her memory.

She watched her own face, looking stricken and confused and very much
not
like she owned the place. “Yes.”

Tucker was still locking eyes with Flynn
’s podium self, and this time, she saw something she hadn’t seen in the moment, when her whole being had been focused on the fantasy visual of throttling his neck.

This time, she saw what might possibly be a hint of regret.

“Well,” he said, “considering you haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours yet, I think that’s pretty much all we can ask.”

Then his eyes drifted over to the
corner, connecting with Flynn’s dream self. The rest of the room faded, but Tucker stayed still, watching her from where he stood.

“
I’m sorry,” he said, his lips not moving.

Another
whoosh,
and Flynn shot up in her bed. The room was dark and empty. No fuzziness. No orange glow. No dead aunt.

Well. That was a good start.

Flynn leaned forward and put her face in her hands. This whole thing was a big mistake. Obviously, her mental state was taking serious hits from coming here, and she wasn’t even doing a good job. Her lunch date had been poisoned, she’d completely hosed the staff meeting, and the one person she’d trusted had betrayed her. After her public humiliation, she’d retreated back to the cottage, unpacked the boxes from Freya (exactly how many clothes did Freya think she’d need, anyway?), and curled up on the bed like a scared little girl.

Add to all that the fact that her subconscious was torturing her in the form of a dead aunt she
’d never met, and Flynn felt secure in her assessment that things were not going well.

She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her jeans up off the floor, and stuck her feet in. Camisole, sweater, sneakers, and she was ready to get out of that creepy cottage. She wished she
’d had the presence of mind to ask Annabelle for a room, but in her rush to escape, she’d forgotten.

Tomorrow, she was getting a room. Maybe her subconscious would settle down in a different environment. Maybe she
’d dream about being haunted by George Washington, or Eleanor Roosevelt.

Pretty much anyone would be an improvement on Esther.

She stepped outside, and the chilled air woke her up immediately. The moon was full, and a light mist lay over the ground. The faint scent of roses hit her, and she turned toward the back of the courtyard. Pebbles crunched under her feet as she followed the path, the dappled moonlight
giving her just enough illumination to keep her from tripping over the three stone steps that led through an archway covered with roses, and then…

“
Oh,
wow
,” she breathed as she took it all in.

It was beautiful. The garden was laid out in a circle, with pebbled paths cutting through the rosebushes like spokes on a wheel, all leading to the gazebo in the center. Flynn wandered down the first spoke, sniffing the roses as she went. She didn
’t know anything about roses, but she could tell that each bush had a different variety. Some were red, some pink, some yellow. Some blossoms were huge, petals wide open to the world, and others were dainty little bulbs. They all had their own take on the basic scent of rose, some smelling more fruity, others going the more traditional floral route. By the time she’d wandered through all the pebbled lanes and found her way back to the gazebo, the creepy feeling she’d had in the cottage was gone, replaced with a flush of excitement. She sat down on the gazebo bench and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. The fragrance that surrounded her was more soothing than any bubble bath she’d ever taken, and the moonlight was making the place seem magical, and hers alone.

Maybe nature
’s not always a bad thing,
she thought as she leaned over to lie down on the gazebo bench. She closed her eyes and took in another deep breath, feeling snug in her big sweater and comfortable in her skin.

And then her mind went blissfully blank.

“Um. Flynn?”

There was a nudge at Flynn
’s shoulder and her eyes
shot open. Sunlight was breaking through the roof of the gazebo, and she sat up.

“
Are you okay?” Annabelle asked, sitting down next to her, putting her hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “A guest told me there was a homeless woman sleeping in the gazebo and I thought it would be crazy Jeanne, but…” Annabelle looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“
I’m fine,” Flynn said, allowing a little yawn. How had she slept out there all night and not even noticed? The wooden benches were comfortable, but they were still wooden benches. “I just… was having trouble sleeping, so I went for a walk and…” She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“
Oh. Okay.” Annabelle nodded, her face the picture of support. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

“
Yes. It is.” Flynn rubbed at her eyes. “Um, what time is it?”

“
Eight-fifteen.”

“
Wow.” Flynn smiled at Annabelle. “You’re here early.”

Ann
abelle smiled. “I try to get here about seven or so, you know, so I can get a jump on the bookkeeping before things get too busy.”

“
So, you’re the bookkeeper, the concierge… everything? Isn’t that a bit much for one person?”

Ann
abelle shook her head, curls bouncing around her grinning face. “Oh, no. Not for me. I like to keep busy.”

“
Okay.” Flynn stretched. “Okay, then. Hey, I’m gonna go take a shower, and I’ll see you in the office in about an hour. You think you can get me up to speed on this place?”

“
Sure, but there really isn’t that much for you to do.
Esther left most of it to me. You know, she was elderly and everything.”

Flynn stood up, expecting her back to be bothering her from the hard wooden bench, but she actually felt better rested than she had in a long time.
“Well, I’m not. You’ve got a big load on your shoulders, Annabelle, and you shouldn’t have to do it all alone. I’m not trying to impose on your territory. I just want to see how things work so that I can…”

She trailed off. She wasn
’t sure exactly what it was she was supposed to be doing, but she needed to do something while she was here besides fight with her dead aunt. Getting involved in the day-to-day seemed like as good a place to start as any.

Annabelle nodded, then nibbled her lip.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“
Yeah. I’m fine.”

“
Because if you’re having trouble sleeping, you could maybe try some of that Tylenol PM. I was having a bit of insomnia this spring, and I’ll tell you, one of those at night, and you’re out like a light.”

Flynn shrugged, wondering how Tylenol PM would stand up to dead Aunt Esther. She gave it comparable odds to an Olsen twin going up against Godzilla, but smiled anyway.

“Maybe I’ll give it a try,” she said. “Thanks, Annabelle.” Annabelle nodded, turned, and bounced her way back toward the inn. Flynn wrapped her arms around herself and followed the path back to the cottage, taking the time to sniff a few roses along the way.

***

The Poughkeepsie dive where Jake had set up his appointment with Rhonda Bacon was dark and smelled vaguely like feet and peanuts. Jake stared down into his drink, which he hadn’t touched. It was barely noon, and if the clientele in this place were any indication, drinking during the day was the gateway to a sad, sad place. But in his experience, people tended to let their guard down more around people they perceived to be weaker than themselves, and he was going to have to be pretty damn pathetic for a mousy girl like Rhonda to perceive herself as the stronger person.

He checked his watch. It was barely noon. He took a small sip of scotch. Yep. Just the right amount of pathetic.

“Mr. Tucker?”

He
’d caught Rhonda coming into the bar in the mirror, but he started at his name for effect, anyway.

“
Ms. Bacon,” he said coolly, motioning to the seat next to him. “Thanks for coming all the way out here to meet me. Shiny’s a small town. Didn’t want to take the chance of anyone seeing us.” Which was true enough.

“
Oh. Yes. Of course.” Rhonda sat down, tucking her skirt nervously around her knees. She was an odd duck, Rhonda. She was maybe thirty-five years old, but dressed like she had one foot in the grave and the other behind a librarian’s desk. She had thick glasses and seriously kinked brown hair that, if red, would be eerily reminiscent of Bozo the Clown. She wore a matching sweater set with a long gray wool skirt and a pair of Keds, and she had a squirrelly look in her eyes that gave away the fact that she’d been working for a total dickhead for the past five years.

“
I’m sorry I’m late,” Rhonda said. “There was traffic.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose and gave a tentative wave to the bartender, who passed by her like she was invisible. Jake waved his hand, and the bartender nodded and gave a
just a minute
motion with his hand.

“
So, you gonna tell me what your message was about, or am I going to be forced to make small talk?” Jake twirled his glass lightly under his fingers. “Because if that’s the case, I’m gonna need another one of these.”

Rhonda squirmed in her seat.
“I just wanted you to know that you were right,” she said quietly, then lowered her voice even further. “I think Mr. Chase has been taking money from somewhere. You know.” The whisper got hoarse. “
Embezzling
.”

Jake worked up a look of mild surprise.
“And I would care about that because… why?”