Greta linked her arm with mine after relieving me of the handle of my suitcase, dragging it along behind us as she led me, unresisting and truly grateful, across the now quiet street.
“I’m new here myself,” she admitted, “only six months, but everyone knows your grandmother and the whole town talks about Ninomae Wilde.” She blushed then, Greta’s flawless skin with just a hint of a tan pinking on her high cheekbones. “I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless of me.”
“Not at all,” I said, because I would have forgiven her anything in that moment, you’d better believe it. “I’m kind of used to it. Mom was a force to be reckoned with, so I can just imagine what kind of reputation she had here in Hallow before we left.” Well, the sheriff himself had mentioned her, hadn’t he? And just what he thought of her before he found out she was dead.
My mother was dead. Still took getting used to.
“She sounds to me like the kind of person who didn’t let anyone push her around.” Greta’s smile returned as she released me to lift my heavy bag over the threshold and into the front entry of the Sleepy Hallow Inn. I almost told her I could handle it, except I wasn’t sure I could and having someone take care of me when I’d had to fend for myself—even when Mom wasn’t a box of ashes in my backpack—was nice for a change.
“What brought you to Hallow?” I hoped she didn’t hear the ring of sarcasm in my voice, because I didn’t want to alienate the only person in town so far who seemed to give a crap I was even here.
Greta laughed at my tone, however, shrugging her thin shoulders inside her pink sweater, the need for it apparent as we made our way across the narrow foyer to the big, wooden front desk, stained as dark as the floors, the heavy chandelier drooping with black crystals and sparkling with faux gold had me struggling not to sigh at yet another color challenged location in town. At least Greta was bright and sparkly, seeming out of place where she stood behind the desk, sorting through a book as she spoke.
“The owner, Florian Redbane, is my companion,” she said. As I unshouldered my backpack and set it next to my feet, grateful for the release of weight, I realized that was the second time she used that word and it had me frowning a little. She dimpled as she looked up. “You can have the Moon Room. I know you’ll just love it.”
I would have taken a sleeping bag on the side of the street at that point, weariness hitting me like a blow. Don’t tell me three days on a bus was relaxing. You try sleeping in a cramped seat surrounded by strangers making stops every freaking time you finally fell into slumber. While I was accustomed to rough living thanks to my choice of careers and had spent many sleepless nights along the road, a bit of pampering—like her kindness—came as a lovely surprise and had me sagging in relief.
“I said no, Sergio, and I meant it!” We both looked up, startled in unison, at the sound of a loud voice coming from one of the rooms off the foyer. The doors were almost closed, the glass smoked (of course), though thick enough they’d hidden the conversation from us until now. It wasn’t hard to identify Florian Redbane or his fury as he went on. “You may not care what happens to this town but Hallow is my responsibility and I won’t see it decimated by this ridiculous money grab.”
“Be reasonable, Florian.” The two men drew closer to the doors, visible shadows despite the grayed-out glass, voices louder now. I raised my eyebrows at Greta whose expression had turned to anxiety, though she quickly smoothed her features and shrugged at me as the conversation went on from Sergio’s side. “We both know Hallow has been in decline since it went missing. We’ve held off the Lakesiders for as long as we can, but we have to admit defeat. Or, at least, stave it off as long as possible. And this deal is a good deal.” There was a short pause, the sound of papers being shaken. “Millions, Florian. Enough to take everyone and start again.”
Money talked. I had little doubt the deal would go through. Forgive me for no longer feeling empathy for Hallow, however, though it did seem odd that Sergio would want to keep the residents together.
Whatever. This place was strange enough already without me trying to figure out why.
“I’m done, Ivanov.” Florian strode out into the foyer, his rotundness accentuated since he’d shed his topcoat, white blouse (that was no men’s shirt, but a flouncy, full-sleeved and cuffed monstrosity of what looked like cream silk) only making his tight waistcoat more of a barrel around his generous middle. But there was nothing amusing about his expression or the way he carried himself, despite the fact I caught my mind comparing him to a little penguin on a rampage. “As leader of the council, I can assure you we will not stand for this. Hallow is our home and the source of more than residences, as you well know.” Okay, more weird. Was there a gold mine under this place or something? Untapped oil reserves? If so, why was it in such dire need of a shot of cash? Nope, not going there. I firmly closed the door on my curiosity.
Even as my curiosity cracked it open again just for a peek.
“It’s not like there’s enough power left here to mean anything.” Sergio Ivanov towered over Florian, looking even more elegant, I had to admit, in these surroundings, fitting into the décor quite nicely. And was handsome, almost gorgeous, actually now that he’d shed his hat and sunglasses and I could see his face, the thick, shaggy black curls he wore. Okay, so it had been a while since I’d dated, all right? Blame it on exhaustion and my weird mood, but he was definitely hot.
Wait, what did he say? Power? What did that mean?
I didn’t get to fumble for control of my nosy mind. As Sergio was offering his argument, Florian looked up, his black eyes settling on me. The moment his widened, mouth dropping open, I knew my welcome had been outlived despite Greta’s offer.
“What is she doing here?” He huffed his way forward, index finger jabbing at me while Greta audibly caught her breath in surprise at his reaction.
“Ms. Wilde needed a room—”
That was as far as she got. With strength I wasn’t expecting—and an assault that honestly had me stunned and unresponsive—Florian Redbane grasped my backpack in both hands and—I kid you not—heaved it toward the front door.
It impacted the floor with a loud thud, the top zipper I’d been holding together with an old hair elastic flying open, some of my possessions escaping to skitter out across the polished wood and hit the bottom of the closed door.
“No Wilde,” he snarled in my face, just slightly taller than me and intimidating despite myself, his breath heavy with peppermint and pale skin so translucent I could see individual veins under his cheeks as he flushed with rage, “is welcome at my establishment. Now, get your trash and get out.”
I gaped at him longer than made him happy, for the simple reason I just couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. Maybe Greta’s initial kindness had put me off guard or it was the weariness of the road, Mom’s death unprocessed, or the fact my own grandmother had basically just told me the exact same thing this stranger did. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t moving fast enough for Florian, because he grasped my arm after a moment and spun me around, pushing me physically toward the exit.
“Out!”
Now, I could have called the cops or done something rash or stood up for myself. Just didn’t have it in me, I guess. Because I found myself on my hands and knees with him standing over me, my suitcase brought forward by the horrified Greta, while I fumbled my stuff back into my bag. He only gave me time to grab my things, before kicking the door open and again pushing me out onto the front entry, continuing to bully me all the way to the street.
I still don’t know how I found myself, suitcase on its side, backpack spilling onto the pavement, standing on the sidewalk with the door to the inn slamming shut behind me. It felt like a dream, like a horrible nightmare I observed from somewhere else. Except, of course, there I stood, trembling and ready to cry all over again while the one shining moment of compassion I’d experienced dried up and vanished like a puff of smoke.
***