Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn (6 page)

“I bet that’s an understatement,” Bonnie teased. “This is Utah, after all. How many wives did you say he had?”

“Well, actually, only three.” Again, I left the fourth wife out. She took too long to explain.

“My dear,” Bonnie took my arm, “We absolutely must talk. This would make a wonderful story.”

“It’s a love story,” Grandma explained. She’d told this story to hundreds of guests when she and Grandpa ran the bed-and-breakfast. “…Between William and his first wife, Marissa. On the day they married, he promised to build her the fanciest home in the valley. Years later, he kept that promise. He was mayor of Silver City for years, and they held many official meetings in this parlor.”

Bonnie laughed. “Did the mansion have a delightfully scandalous name? Polygamy Parlor? Too Many Wives? The More The Merrier?”

“Plain ol’ Ross Mansion. Fifty years ago, my grandparents turned it into a bed-and-breakfast. Now it’s the Who-Dun-Him Inn.”

“Such a wonderful name,” Dr. Ray said.

Grandma murmured her agreement.

Calabria asked Grandma, “Did your husband have more than one wife?” I looked at him in surprise, then realized from his smile that Calabria was teasing Grandma.

Grandma laughed. “Oh, gracious, no. We haven’t had polygamy for years, except in those fundamentalist groups. No sister wives for me. Besides, George couldn’t have handled more than me.” She sighed. “He’s been gone ten years.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” Dr. Ray commiserated. “My wife passed on five years ago.”

Right then, I knew Dr. Ray was done for. He didn’t know Grandma like I did, but he could see something that I, as her granddaughter, rarely remembered— Grandma might be in her seventies, but she was still an attractive woman.
Run, Dr. Ray. You’re starting to look like a boy toy
.

I pushed open the heavy dining room door. “Breakfast is served from seven until ten. Mr. Calabria has spared no expense, and all your meals are included through Sunday afternoon. Luncheon at noon. Dinner at six. Tonight, the dining room will become a four-star restaurant, so dress accordingly. Also, you’ll be seated at the large table tonight. For the other meals, you may sit at any of the tables, including the smaller ones.”

Grandma looked at me sternly. It took me a moment before I got it. I didn’t want to admit I didn’t have a chef for the weekend, but I knew Grandma well enough to know that, if I didn’t, she would. “My grandmother is your chef this evening. She has cooked for many guests throughout the years, and I’m sure you’ll be well pleased with the results.”

She winked at me.

Dr. Ray said, “I look forward to sampling.”

BJ pointed a long, red nail at the wall. “Is that original?”

“Yes. William commissioned the built-in china cabinet for Marissa.”

“What about the mirror?” BJ asked, pointing to the large, antique-looking, framed mirror on the other wall.

“A later addition.” Much later. Like two weeks ago. A one-way mirror added specifically so the actors could watch from the kitchen and time their entrances into the mystery dinners.

Garrett leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms, and chuckled, a not-quite-warm sound. He tipped his head toward the gilt frame listing the menu in the calligraphy that Ilene Jackson, owner of Knits and Knots, Silver City’s fanciest craft store, had traded for a weekend stay or two. “I see the breakfast entrees also have a detective theme. Colombo’s omelet. Perry Mason’s steak.”

I could feel warmth flooding my face. “I couldn’t resist.”

“With an imagination and a history like yours, you really have to write mysteries,” Bonnie said. “
Polygamy
mysteries.”

“I could represent you,” Calabria said magnanimously.

Garrett snorted derisively. “If all you ever want to do is write murder mysteries.” How could a Texas drawl sound so harsh?

Calabria frowned. “We are jesting, are we not?
Signora
Butler will not write a book when she has such a wonderful inn to run.”

The elegant model with the fancy hair— Alexis? — put her hand on Garrett’s arm as if to stop him from saying too much. As if she also heard his antagonism. She whispered to him too softly for me to hear.

Garrett shrugged. “Why not? It’s true.”

Hesitating, I glanced at the other authors, gauging their response to his palpable anger. Bonnie’s eyes were wide, Dr. Ray pursed his lips, Alexis looked even paler.

Calabria bristled. “This is not the time, Garrett. We will have our discussion in private. Later.”

Garrett took a step toward Calabria and the tension in the room increased tenfold.

I may not have known what to do, but Grandma did, and she didn’t hesitate. “Gentlemen, I will have none of that in my dining room.” She used the no-nonsense tone of voice none of us grandkids ever dared disobey— and Garrett was no exception. He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Of course. Sorry, ma’am.”

Calabria simply laughed, as if he found Grandma’s impertinence refreshing, and his laughter obviously ticked off Garrett even more. I wasn’t sure what he’d do now, but when he finally moved, he walked out the door and into the foyer.

Crisis averted.
Thank you, Grandma
.

* * *

Wanting to give both men a few moments to calm down, I babbled on about the dining room table and the antiques.

Liz caught my eye and shot hers toward Grandma.

I followed her gaze. Dr. Ray apparently liked Grandma’s show of spunk, for now he stood beside her by the window. She motioned to different aspects of the room. There was another guide on this tour, providing personalized attention.

Boy— or would that be
boy toy
? — when Grandma made up her mind, she wasted no time.

As I led the group into the foyer, Garrett rejoined us, but steered clear of both Calabria and Grandma.

“This is another of my favorite rooms.” I pointed to the words emblazoned on a fancy brass plaque on one of the double doors, and read aloud.

PERRY MASON LAW LIBRARY ~ Los Angeles ~ 1957

With everyone inside the library, including Tour Guide Grandma and Dr. Ray, I motioned to the full bookshelves lining every inch of wall space. “The same William Ross who built the mansion installed the first of these shelves for his first, book-loving wife, Marissa. This was, after all, originally the ladies’ parlor.”

“Ahh,” Dr. Ray said with a hint of book-loving reverence in his voice, “how many books do you have here?”

“William Sr. began the collection with books brought from England. William Jr. collected law books. I added mysteries.” I smiled at Dr. Ray, who for the moment, was not gazing at my grandmother. “There are fifteen hundred, with more mysteries, both books and movies, in each guest room, and starring that room’s detective.”

BJ giggled, showing her young age. Calabria smiled indulgently as she blurted out, “I
love
the window seat.”

I pulled back the heavy curtain to expose the fluffy cushions lining the two-foot recessed window outlined with satiny honey oak. Big, wet snowflakes were still falling outside, obscuring the normal view. I was
so
glad my guests had arrived safely. “This is a great reading nook.”

BJ seated herself there and smiled at Calabria.

Was it my imagination, or did Bonnie roll her eyes before turning to the others? “Did you hear Suzanne had a baby?”

Alexis shook her head no.

Garrett said, “Terrence.”

Bonnie laughed. “What?”

Garrett shrugged. “The baby’s name.”

“You
knew
about her little boy?” Bonnie sounded skeptical.

“Sure. She told me about five months ago.” Finally, he sounded genuinely warm, as he hadn’t before.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I just found out this week.”

“She asked me not to say anything.”

“Garrett, you are the most closed-mouthed person I know.”

Calabria held out a hand to BJ, who hopped to her feet, and he motioned impatiently. “And the rest of the house?”

The guru didn’t seem interested in the books, while his authors ran fingers along spines and pulled out old volumes.

Calabria headed back toward the foyer, the wrong way for my normal tour, but I could work with it. I pointed at the semicircular counter. “If you need anything, at any time, just call and the phone will ring in the office here, the kitchen, and my living quarters. I’m sorry to say that your cell phones will not work here this weekend. The tower at Snow Haven was knocked out by a lightning storm and the repairs may not be completed before you leave.”

“Have I told you that I have more authors?” Calabria frowned. “They are on national tours and receiving awards.”

I felt as though he was dying to have me ask, so I obliged my wealthy, irritating client. “Who are they?”

As he listed his other authors— romance writer, Diane Darcy, YA fantasy author, Bruce Simpson, and thriller queen Suzanne Noble— I realized I’d heard of all of them. Calabria
was
an important man. Worse, he knew it, and wanted every person around him to acknowledge it. I figured his expectation of hero worship would get old very quickly.

Obviously, a few of the authors were weary of the routine. Garrett pursed his lips into a tight line. Alexis sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead. Bonnie crossed her arms and frowned.

“The tour?” Calabria prompted me.

“There’s purified water and sugar-free punch in the extra fridge in the kitchen. Feel free to have some any time you’d like, day or night. Or, if you prefer, there is also a Pepsi machine.”

I led them into the exercise room. “You may work out between seven a.m. and ten p.m.” One glance told me Calabria didn’t care, so I moved through the curved arch at the back into the plant-filled arboretum, which ran alongside both this room and the library, joining the three so you could walk in a circle through the three rooms and back into the lobby. “Miss Marple’s indoor garden is a peaceful place.”

BJ touched a leaf. “I feel the energy in here. It’s peaceful, and yet…” She trailed off.

Calabria smiled at his kooky young wife while the others glanced at her as if she was crazy. Next, she touched the white wrought-iron park bench. “I feel sadness and also healing.”

I stared at her. I bought the Inn from my parents three months after Robert’s death and spilled many tears on that bench. As if sensing my thoughts, BJ caught my eye and smiled gently, her sophisticated blonde facade dropping for a second to reveal a more… what? A centered person? Was she full of hooey? Or could she really pick up the vibes of my tears?

Shaking off the strange sensation from BJ’s words, I led the way back into the foyer and up the main staircase, which rose along the library wall toward the rear and curved twice until it headed back toward the front. Soon, we all stood in the large common area on the second floor, except Garrett, who wandered around the staircase and stared from the windows, still frowning.

The door to the Sam Spade room was closed, and now would be an excellent time for Martha to keep it that way, if she still intended to surprise her brother.

“There are fifteen detective guest rooms. Seven on each floor and the Magnum, P.I. carriage house suite outside.”

“The
bridal
suite,” interrupted Calabria.

I paused for a moment to see if he would continue. When he didn’t, I did. “Two of the third floor rooms are not yet completed. On this floor, you’ll find Jessica Fletcher, Mike Hammer, Inspector Clouseau—”

”Oh,” interrupted Bonnie as she clutched her heart dramatically, “Clark would
love
the Inspector Clouseau room.”

So the authors
did
know each other well. “Actually, I think he might prefer the Max McKnight room.”

“His character even has his own room here?” Garrett turned and laughed, though not without warmth. The faint smile did wonders for his looks. “That’s great.”

“This I’ve gotta see.” Bonnie said.

So I led them first to the futuristic Max McKnight room, where they oohed and ahhed over the sleek, queen-sized metallic bed that appeared to hover. I forked over quite a bundle for this illusion and was gratified by their obvious appreciation.

I heard Grandma tell Dr. Ray, “You will love the Hercule Poirot room,” as they slipped out.

Liz whispered, “Should I chaperone?”

“Make sure they don’t go into the Sam Spade room,” I whispered back. “And mention dinner and her promise to serve it by six.”

“Supper.” Liz winked, knowing Grandma would correct her. She smiled and excused herself to chase down our flirtatious grandmother as well as the prey caught firmly in her macaw talons.

I continued the tour in the far corner of the second floor. “The elevator goes from the top of the mansion to the cellar.” I didn’t mention that you couldn’t get to the family quarters in the former cellar without punching in a special code. “Originally this was a hidden space used during polygamy years so when the feds were expected, the men could slide down the fire pole to the cellar, go through the tunnel to the barn, climb up through the trapdoor and into the hiding place on the bottom of the wagon, where three men would fit.”