Savage Grandma smiles at their expressions. "Yes, you are, you scaredy-cats." She looks at me. "Have you ever seen so many babies among a group of adults?"
"Never," I respond cheerfully.
Cecily narrows her eyes. I take her hand. Because I want to. Because I can.
"I'll keep you safe," I whisper into her hair as Ophelia leads the way into the famed haunted hotel.
She glares up at me. "If you do anything to scare me further, it's going to be you who needs to be kept safe from me."
I squeeze her waist. "Noted."
Browns and maroons decorate the hotel lobby, and ornate gold filigree embellishes the ceiling molding. A gleaming cherry check-in desk takes up a large portion of the room. What looks to be a fireplace is actually a set of stairs leading down, metallettering readingCocktail Loungeon what should be a mantle. Framed black-and-white versions of the hotel throughout history line one wall.
To the young receptionist, Duke asks, "Can you please provide some background on why the hotel is believed to be haunted?" He sounds serious and unafraid, but I know the guy was standing in front of the building fewer than five minutes ago trembling in his Magnanni's.
She launches into a well-worn explanation of supernatural sightings. The Meat Man with the strange habit of hanging meat from his chandelier, the disturbing sounds of a baby crying in the basement, the Phantom Bellboy, and the infamous women of the night. Unsentimental, she says, "They were murdered and tossed from the third-story window."
Cecily leans her head against my arm, and I tip my head closer to hear her whisper, "Soiled doves and women of the night. This has turned into quite the road trip."
I snicker. It's the only appropriate word to describe the sound.
The receptionist looks at me. "You don't believe in ghost stories, do you?"
"Uh, no." I shake my head as I rock back on my feet. "I don't."
She nods her head decisively. "Perfect. We'll have you in room 306." Her tone is pleasant, but there is an undercurrent close to pleased mocking. Like she thinks she's setting me up.
"Why room 306?" Kerrigan asks, her hands wringing.
"Doesn't matter," I answer. "We'll be fine."
"Marilyn and I might take the motor home tonight," Glenn announces.
"I could sleep on the floor," Duke offers. "Is there a sleeping bag?" He shakes his head like he's clearing it. "Doesn't matter. I'll take the floor."
"I can definitely make that kitchenette table into a bed," Kerrigan adds, eyes lighting.
Given everything I have learned about this family, I did not seeshared fear of ghostsas something that would unite them.
"You're sleeping here," Savage Grandma announces. "End of story."
The receptionist hands out keys. She dangles ours over my open palm and smirks. "Have a nice night."
"Way to go, Errand Boy," Cecily hisses when we step onto the elevator. She punches my upper arm for maximum display of vexation. "I looked it up. Room 306 is the room where the women of the night were murdered."
"She probably gets commission if she incites a level of fear that's still a little fun in the guests, like the perfect small shot of adrenaline. People are more likely to look for the supernatural and claim they see it if they're told to look out for it."
"Good luck," Duke says dryly, stepping off the elevator when it opens on the second floor. Kerrigan gets off too, saying to me, "You better hope you look nothing like the man who murdered those prostitutes." The ancient elevator doors shut with a clang.
Cecily deepens her voice. "I don't believe in ghost stories. Put me in the most haunted room in the hotel."
I press my lips to that inch of space below her ear, the spot I know she loves to feel my tongue glide over. "Is that how I sound, wife?"
She whimpers. "No, husband. You have a higher pitch."
I chuckle against her skin. The elevator doors open on the third floor.
We locate room 306, and slide our key into the lock. Cecily pushes open the door slowly, and it creaks.
