Chapter Twelve

Now…

The following week, the B&B haunted house officially opened, and as Whitney stood on the front steps, she was relieved to see the line of cars pulling into the parking lot and finding available spots along the street.

Families and groups of friends, some dressed in their own Halloween attire, started to form a line by the entrance where Wes stood dressed like a zombie to greet them.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this house was actually haunted,” Trent said, standing back to admire Wes’s amazing handiwork on the faux exterior of the B&B. The wooden facade he’d created to look like a decrepit house with loose wood planks and broken windows, dark shadows behind torn curtains, and smoke that resembled a ghost rising from a crumbling brick chimney was truly amazing.

“You haven’t even seen the inside yet,” Sarah said, appearing next to them outside. She was dressed as a broken printer that was smashed in a fit of rage, and next to her, Marissa was dressed in a shirt and tie, holding the baseball bat.

Trent laughed when he saw them dressed in reference to Office Space. “You two look great.”

Marissa giggled. “Dad is totally confused. He thinks I’m a baseball player but can’t figure out why I’m dressed in a shirt and tie,” she said.

Poor Wes. Technology really wasn’t his thing, and he was living with two techies. Sarah and Marissa had bonded the year before over their passion for coding, and the two were incredibly close now.

“And the best part…” Marissa said, turning Sarah around. Baby Henry was sleeping in a sling on her back, dressed as a black toner cartridge.

Trent immediately was enamored. “I’m totally going to wake him up.”

Sarah laughed. “Doubt he’ll stay asleep much longer anyway with these crowds coming through,” she said, nodding her approval for Trent to take the baby.

Whitney swallowed hard as he carefully unwrapped Sarah’s sling and took the still-sleeping baby into his arms. The tiny thing appeared even tinier in Trent’s huge, muscular arms.

He looked so incredibly sexy holding the baby, Whitney had to look away.

Trent sniffed Henry’s forehead and grinned. “Baby smell should be bottled so that when they are older and stinky, we can be reminded that at one time, they didn’t smell so bad.”

“Hey!” Marissa said, but then she sniffed her underarm. “Never mind. You have a point.”

Trent winked at the little girl. “Want to give us a tour?”

She nodded excitedly. “Can I take them through, Mom?” she asked Sarah, and Whitney’s stomach knotted even more. Marissa must have decided she was ready to start calling Sarah Mom. Wes and Sarah had told the little girl she could call Sarah anything she was comfortable with. Sarah looked just as pleased hearing it.

Would Whitney ever get that chance to hear someone call her Mom? Experience that sense of love and pride?

“I can stay out here and help Wes direct people,” she said. “I already saw it when I took the photos.”

Sarah shook her head. “No way. You have to see it now, all set up with the right lighting and the actors on-site.”

Whitney hesitated.

“Go! Enjoy.” Sarah was insistent. “It’s the family-friendly hours, so you won’t get too scared—there’s no pop-out scares right now. The actors will behave until nine, then all bets are off,” she said with a grin as she opened the front door and Marissa ushered them inside.

“I’m keeping the baby,” Trent told Sarah as he followed Marissa inside.

“Figured you would,” Sarah said.

Whitney reluctantly followed Trent, carrying Henry, and Marissa inside, and Sarah shut the door behind them. Already her palms were sweating just standing in the dimly lit foyer of the transformed B&B. If the outside was incredibly done, the inside was nothing short of a spectacular feat, and Sarah was right, it did look so different at night.

Dark bulbs had replaced the regular lighting, so the eerie glow of the house made her feel as though she’d stepped into a black-and-white dream out of the past. Directly in front of them was the B&B check-in desk that looked like an old-school hotel check-in. Skeleton keys hung on hooks behind the desk, and old, antique-looking photos hung on the wall—the creepy images a source of nightmares all on their own. Dark, shredded curtains hung in the entryways to the dining room on one side and the den on the other, preventing a view of what lay behind it, and ominous flickering candlelight lit the way upstairs. It looked professionally decorated, and she was impressed by all the work Sarah and Wes had pulled off in such a short time.

“This way first,” Marissa said, leading them into the dining room through the flimsy, tattered curtain.

She motioned for Trent to go ahead, then stayed close to his back as they entered. Long tables with fake-bloodstained white tablecloths draped over them were set up inside, and on display were fantastically gory desserts, candies, and drinks, including the floating eyeball one Jess had shown her weeks before.

“Jess is so incredible,” she said, feeling a slight tug of guilt. She’d barely talked to her friend in weeks.

“Help yourself to a spider. They’re delicious,” Marissa said, picking one up and shoving it into her mouth.

Whitney suspected the little girl would be buzzing on a sugar high by the end of that evening.

After tasting some of the delicious, if disgusting-looking, treats, they all followed Marissa into the den, which had been transformed into a witch’s lair, where a frightening witch stirred some questionable-looking items in a large cauldron. The actress was quite convincing with the makeup and the haunting way she chanted her spell over the smoking liquid. She glanced up at them and crooked her finger at Whitney to come closer, but Whitney shook her head.

“I’m good here, thanks.”

Trent laughed as he moved closer and peered inside the cauldron. “Looks delicious,” he said, playing along.

“Just need a few more baby toes,” the actress said, pretending to peer at baby Henry.

Trent cuddled him closer. “I’ll protect this child with my life.”

Whitney’s gut tightened even more, and she moved out of the room.

Marissa continued the tour, leading them upstairs, in and out of the various guest rooms and hallways—all featuring a unique, frightening display—crazed scientists, zombies, vampires rising out of coffins, an insane asylum…

The amount of work Sarah and Wes had put into the event was truly something, and going by the squeals of delight and terror echoing throughout the B&B as guests started to flow through, the event was turning out to be a great success.

Whitney suspected they’d surpass their original money-raised-for-charity goal by the end of the week. They’d get a lot of returning visitors to the event, and once word of mouth spread, no doubt people would drive in from farther away to experience it.

“And lastly,” Marissa said, leading them out the back door, through the overgrown garden, toward the gazebo, “is Madam Z, our on-site fortune-teller.”

Sitting at a table inside the gazebo was an older woman dressed in a beautiful multicolored dress with mismatched patterns, a bandanna wrapped around her head, her long, dark hair loose around her shoulders. Gold necklaces, bangles, and rings reflected the light coming from a crystal ball on the table in front of her.

“Come and let Madam Z see what the future holds,” the woman lured.

Whitney shook her head, but Trent nudged her forward. “Go on…it’s all just for fun.”

She sighed, then reluctantly stepped inside the gazebo and took a seat on the edge of the chair, ready to bolt at any second. What would this woman see? Did she want to know?

“Okay…what do you see?” she asked as calmly as possible despite her racing pulse. She clenched her hands on her lap and stared politely into the ball as the woman waved her hands over it in a dramatic display.

Whitney waited, but the ball went completely dark, and the woman’s eyes held a real look of fear when she reopened them. Her gaze met Whitney’s, and a shiver ran through her. She stood abruptly, knocking over the chair in the process, and stepped down from the gazebo.

“Hey, wait,” Trent called after her as she headed toward the parking lot.

“I’m sure it was just a loose cable or something,” Marissa said, crawling under the table to check the plugs.

“It’s fine. We should get going. The real guests are all coming through now,” Whitney said, trying to sound unfazed, but her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty.

There’d been no future in that crystal ball…at least not one she wanted to know about.

…

The haunted house had definitely freaked her out.

Whitney was still quiet as Trent pulled the Jeep into their driveway half an hour later. She wasn’t a fan of the scariness of the season, the gore and terror, he knew that, but the fortune-teller and the crystal ball malfunction had really frightened her.

He touched her hand gently as he turned off the vehicle. “Hey, it was just a bad wire connection.” Marissa had managed to get it fixed again as they’d left the garden, but Whitney had had enough for one night.

She nodded. “I know. I’m fine.”

She didn’t seem fine, but he knew not to press the issue when she was already on edge. He opened the door, climbed out, then took her hand as they made their way up the walk and into the house.

He flicked on the interior lights and hung his keys on the hook near the door. “You hungry? Did you want me to make something? Coffee?” It was after eight, but he suspected she’d be staying up to work.

But he was surprised when she shook her head and started to climb the stairs. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh…okay.” He stood there awkwardly, finding himself in unfamiliar territory. She was obviously upset about something, and for the first time in almost a year, she wasn’t heading straight to her laptop to work. She was going to bed. Did she want him to go to bed, too? Or did she want to be alone?

Damn, this shouldn’t be such a riddle. They were engaged. They’d been together for seven years. He shouldn’t have to question what his fiancée needed or wanted from him. He hated this feeling of walking on eggshells around her. He never knew what to say or do, fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Would you like company or…”

She paused on the stairs, and her expression was more tired than she usually let him see. The dark circles under her eyes were evident, and she looked pale and even thinner. He wished he could protect her and keep her safe, fix whatever she was struggling with…if only she’d let him in.

“I know it’s early, but do you mind?” she asked.

His heart soared a little despite the concern he had for her. “Don’t mind at all,” he said, joining her on the staircase.

When she reached for his hand, unexpected emotions strangled him as he held hers tight and they headed upstairs. This rare moment of her displaying any bit of vulnerability had him conflicted, but all he knew was that she was reaching out to him and he’d be there for her in whatever capacity she needed. If she wanted to talk, he was there to listen.

In the bedroom, she sat on the bed and bent to remove her boots, but he stopped her. He knelt on the floor in front of her and removed them.

She didn’t protest the help, sending him a silent, grateful look as she allowed him to continue undressing her. He removed her sweater, lifting it over her head. Next, he unclasped her bra and slid it down her arms and away from her body. He took her hands and helped her to her feet, then removed her jeans and socks.

Opening his dresser drawer, he retrieved his oversize, faded football T-shirt that he knew was her favorite and slipped it on over her head.

He pulled back the blankets, and she climbed into bed, tucking her feet under the covers.

He undressed and slid in next to her and opened his arms. She moved in closer, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He kissed the top of her forehead and lay awake until the sound of her breathing grew deeper, the muscles in her body softened and relaxed…and she was asleep.