I place my grandmother—the cockatoo—on the kitchen table. “I can’t listen to this anymore. I need some space to think. You’ve got food and water, and if you can’t control your own cloaca, that’s your problem. I’m going to go check into my B&B and come to grips with”—I gesture madly around me—“all this. You.”
“None of this is my fault,” she snaps. “All I did was die!”
“Die and leave me buildings I can’t sell in a town where there are clearly no jobs that young people can live on?” I stomp into the next room and change into a new pair of jeans and a T-shirt as I continue to shout at her. “Die and take over the body of a bird that was honestly my best friend, and now she’s just—just banished to the ether so my uppity grandmother can insult myentire family? And I can’t even tell you to drop dead, because you already did.”
Maggie runs into the room and flaps into my face. I bat her away carefully, but she doesn’t stop hollering in my head. “You should be grateful! You have a free home and a thriving business, with an extra bonus grandmother! And again, everything would be a hell of a lot easier if you had the good sense to have a cat instead of a stupid pink bird!”
“I didn’t know I was going to become a witch today, so thanks for making me dump your ashes in the stupid magical waterfall. Really enjoyed having human remains in my hair. I guess now I know why Mama hated you. You’re an asshole!” I shove my pajamas in my bag, zip it closed, and slide on my boots before stomping over to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow once I’ve cooled off a little. Then you’re going to tell me how to rent out all this shitty property so I can move back home with my sisters. I’ll drop you off with your real owner, and you can screech at him all you want, because he actually deserves it.”
The door slams behind me, and I’m barreling down the stairs and out into the alley. The nerve of that woman! I had always pictured my missing grandmother as sweet and kind with curly white hair and an oven filled with cookies and cornbread. Fluffy pink sweaters and house slippers and rosy cheeks. Never once did I imagine she might be an infuriating, self-righteous cockatoo.
I feel guilty for just a moment—I have essentially locked a conscious adult in a room with no way to escape—but she’ll be fine. There’s enough food and water to last a week, now that she’s a bird, and she’s in her own apartment, and whatever she does next is her own business.
After I get my car unwedged from its spot in the alley, I head for the nearest drive-thru, get some food, and come back intotown. The Magnolia Inn is just around the other side of the square, so it feels a little ridiculous parking close enough that I can see the video store from there, but I didn’t really want to be seen dragging a suitcase around the sidewalk and crying. It is a small town, after all. As I stuff fries and chicken nuggets in my mouth in the inn’s passive-aggressively marked parking lot, I wonder if I should go close up the video store, but what’s the point? Honestly, if somebody broke in and stole all the movies and both slow cookers, I don’t think I would mind. It was a terrible business idea even ten years ago, and there’s no chance it could support me into retirement. Thriving business, my ass.
The faster I rent it all out, the better.
I’m so desperate to escape this whole situation that I call Colonel. His voicemail warmly informs me that the law office closes promptly at five. Damn it.
Once I’ve eaten an adequate amount of my feelings, I grab my chocolate milkshake and drag my suitcase toward the front door. This place seemed pretty expensive to me, but I felt like it was okay to splurge a little, considering the situation. I’ve only stayed in three hotels in my entire life, and I wanted to try one without a number in the name. Now I’m mad at myself for not sticking with the Motel 6 just outside of town, which would’ve cost half as much and not required me to stare across the square into the dingy windows of the last video store in the world.
When I walk in, there’s no one at the front desk, and I let out an explosive sigh because honestly, it would be nice if one single thing was easy today.
“Rough travels?” someone asks, and it’s then that I notice the figure sitting in a wingback chair by the fireplace, reading a book. He’s a blue-eyed, prematurely gray silver fox, probably mid-thirties, but definitely not outside the realm of possibility. There’sa bookshelf beside him filled with a wide range of titles, not just the usual 1980s used books people buy to take up aesthetic space, and I grudgingly tell myself I picked the right place. A dog sleeps peacefully on the rug, stretched out as if warming itself by a fire that doesn’t exist. It doesn’t so much as blink an eye at me, but I suppose a B&B dog would get used to constant customers.
“The travels were fine, but the destination is proving to be a challenge,” I tell him, wishing my eyes weren’t so wet and runny.
He stands and walks behind the counter. “Rhea Wolfe?”
“That’s me.”
His smile is sympathetic as he checks me in. When he takes my ID, I notice the wedding ring, and I’m honestly kind of disappointed. It would’ve been nice to know there were two hot, available men in town, especially considering the first one is apparently related to my grandmother’s sworn enemy, not that she’ll give me details on anything pertinent to that fact.
“So I’m Nick, one of the owners, and you can let me know if you need anything. My husband, Nathan, will have the included breakfast on the table from eight to ten. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”
“Nope. Give me all the bread and nuts. And there will be coffee?”
He puts a hand to his chest and closes his eyes. “If not, what’s the point? We bring in beans from Atlanta, and we got a really nice espresso maker for our last anniversary.”
“Sounds like I have no choice but to wake up, then.”
“Please do. We supposedly have enough ghosts as it is.” Nick hands me an old-fashioned key on a metal ring. “Not in your room, though. You have the Dogwood Room, on the second floor. Hope you don’t hate pink.”
“How much pink are we talking?”
“A…tasteful amount.”
I have to laugh. “I’m sure it will be fine. It’ll be dark soon.” I glance back at the bookshelf, and he waits for me with professional patience. “So this place. Is it…” I trail off, unsure how to continue.
“We have excellent reviews and no bedbugs,” he hurriedly assures me. “I wash the sheets myself, and I’m very fussy. Almost annoyingly so.”
“No. It’s not that.” I glance at a black-and-white photo on the wall behind him of the inn in a different time, with a horse tied to the fence out front. “My family is from this town, and my mom left and made me promise I would never visit, and then my grandmother died, and now I just got here to take care of her will and everything is going wrong. So I guess I’m asking if it’s as terrible as I think it is. Small-minded and boring and utterly lacking in Wi-Fi.”
He purses his lips. “It’s a little small-minded, but folks will generally accept you once you don’t feel like a stranger. I’m from here, and people were leery of Nathan at first, but once everyone tried his biscuits, they were all in. The Wi-Fi actually isn’t that bad—the code is posted in your room. It’s getting more cultured all the time, with live music and the farmers’ market. I left for college, but I missed it. These days, we’re very happy here. Does that help at all?”
I smile with a little sniffle. “Good news about the Wi-Fi.”
“And we have a system for dealing with the turkeys.”
