The Perfect Hope Part 35

CHAPTER NINE

THE SCREAM SHOT HER STRAIGHT UP IN BED AT TWO IN the morning. Dreaming? she wondered. Had she been-

The next scream sent Hope flying out of bed, rus.h.i.+ng for the door. She grabbed her cell phone on the run and bolted into the hallway in her cotton shorts and sleep tank. Heart thudding, she charged downstairs and into considerable hysteria on the second floor.

The Pill loosed one gla.s.s-shattering scream after the next while her husband, wearing nothing but boxers, gripped her shoulders and shouted at her to stop. Leading with shouted questions, other guests poured out of rooms in various states of undress.

Calm, Hope ordered herself, someone had to be calm.

"What happened? What's wrong? Mrs. Redman. Mrs. Redman. Lola, stop!"

Hope's order cracked out, but she thought it carried less insult than a slap across the face. The woman sucked in her breath. Color flooded into her face.

"Don't you speak to me in that tone."

"I apologize. Are you hurt?"

The color died again, but at least she didn't scream. "There's someone-something-in that room. It-she-was standing right over the bed. She touched me!"

"Lola, n.o.body's in there," her husband began.

"I saw her. The door to the porch was open, wide open! She came in through the door."

When everyone began talking at once, Hope raised her hands. "Just give me a minute, please."

She opened the door to Elizabeth and Darcy, thinking, d.a.m.n it, Lizzy, and switched on the lights. She saw nothing out of place, but she could certainly smell honeysuckle. Mr. Redman came in behind her, with Jake Karlo at his heels. Jake's wife held the door open, her eyes sharp as she tightened the belt of the inn robe she'd thrown on.

"There's n.o.body in here," Redman began, and checked both porch doors. "These are still locked from the inside."

"Nothing in the bathroom," Jake announced, then got down on all fours to peer under the bed. "All clear."

"Bad dream, that's all," Redman said and scrubbed at his close-cropped gray hair. "She just had a bad dream. I'm sorry for the disturbance."

"Please, Mr. Redman, don't apologize."

"Austin," he said to Hope and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm standing here in my underwear. Make it Austin. Sorry about that, too." With a sigh, he stepped over to take one of the robes from the hook in the bathroom.

"We're all pretty casually dressed." Jake stood in jeans so hastily yanked on he'd yet to fasten them. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I'm sure we're fine now," Hope told him, "but thank you."

She stepped out to where Mrs. Redman remained in the hall, her arms crossed tight, hands hugging her elbows. She might have been a pill, but she was s.h.i.+vering, and obviously frightened.

"Austin, maybe your wife would like a robe."

"I don't care if there's no one in there now." Lola jutted up her chin, but it trembled. "I don't care if you say the doors are locked. There was someone."

"Lola." With a patience Hope found admirable, Austin laid the robe over his wife's shoulders. "You had a bad dream, that's all. Just a bad dream."

"I saw her. The door was open, and the light shone right through her. I'm not going back in that room. We're leaving. We're leaving now."

"It's two in the morning." Twin edges of irritation and embarra.s.sment jutted through the patience. "We're not leaving now."

"Why don't I go down and make you some tea?" Hope suggested.

"I'd appreciate that," Austin said when his wife remained silent. "Thank you."

"I'll give you a hand."

Jake's wife-Casey, Hope remembered-fell into step beside her. "You don't need to bother."

"I don't mind. I could use a drink myself. If I were you," she continued, lowering her voice as they went down, "I'd add a solid jigger of that whiskey you have in The Library."

Tempting, Hope thought. "I'll suggest it." Hope wound her way to the kitchen, put on the kettle. "What can I get you?"

"I can get it myself. She really put you through the paces tonight. You don't have to say anything," she added. "It's just I know the type. I waitressed all through college."

At home, Casey got an open bottle of wine from the refrigerator, took off the topper. "She's the type who wants to adjust everything she orders, complains about the food, the service, the table, calculates a tip on the wrong side of insulting, and acts like she's doing you a great big favor leaving that."

As she spoke, she got down two gla.s.ses, poured both.

"This is a beautiful place, and you went out of your way-way out-to accommodate her, with cla.s.s. You give some people a canteen in the desert when they're dying of thirst, they'll b.i.t.c.h that the water's not wet enough."

"Unfortunately true." And that, Hope decided, was all she could discreetly say about that. "Still, I'm sorry your night was disturbed."

"It's all right. Excitement's always a plus. And Jake and I weren't asleep yet." She smiled, sipped. "We were just getting there. So, Hope." She slid onto a stool. "Tell me about the ghost."

"I-" Hope broke off when Jake strolled in.

"The other women have Lola in The Library. Austin's having some whiskey with Bob out on the porch. I think she's calming down some."

"Hopefully some tea will finish the job."

"Hope was about to tell me about the ghost."

"Yeah?" He took his wife's winegla.s.s, had a swallow. "What's her deal?"

"Jake's all about ghosts," Casey explained. "Whenever we can get away, we always look for an interesting old hotel or B&B-with potential. Like this one."

"We were out on the porch a couple hours ago," Jake said. "I thought I saw her. Young, in period dress. Maybe nineteenth-century. Just a flash, you know. Like-" He snapped his fingers. "And the air smelled sweet."

"I didn't see her, but he's right about the scent. Sweet and pretty."