"You want to stay here. In this outdated inn that does not have room service or a bellhop," Tilly said in a disbelieving voice.
"Well, no, Tilly. I'd rather stay at a hotel that is to my level of comfort but Dustin," she said his name in disgust that shocked Tilly, "told me to only stick to the one credit card until we figure out our situation. But if that bastard thinks I am getting anything less than I deserve for being the wife he wanted for years," she laughed. "Well, he has a fight on his hands. But, for now, I am here."
Tilly nodded trying to take it all in. "Alright. So, I have a room available for you," she looked at the few rooms available thinking what would make her the most comfortable and at the last minute veered away from the king suite with the working fireplace and padded seat bay window overlooking the brick street and willows. It was her favorite room and the only one that didn't need updating because the style choices had stood the test of time.
White intricate crown molding, a wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the walls were a perfect french blue and the king-sized four-poster bed was an antique of carved mahogany that royalty in the United Kingdom would love. The bedspread was a fluffy down comforter of snow white with matching pillows and an overstuffed striped chaise in the corner between the books and the fireplace.
And yet, she chose one with a queen-sized bed covered in a handmade quilt, a fireplace that was not working, and one measly window that overlooked the side of the inn where not much was happening. The walls were too red and the floor stillhad carpet that needed to be ripped up to show off the warm honey wood floors.
It would do just fine.
"Alright. Here is your key. Breakfast is in the dining room every morning from seven til ten and on weekends we offer tea and snacks around two."
"How quaint," she murmured passing her a credit card.
Tilly waived it away and told her she could pay when she checked out. And then they both stood there looking at each other.
Tilly waited, wondering what could come out of Fae's mouth if she could be struggling with her husband leaving more than she let on.
And then Fae opened her mouth. "My bags? There are five and they're in the trunk."
Tilly sighed as she took the keys from her sister. As she was getting the last bag up the stairs, her back yelling her a reminder of her age and her sister sitting at the desk looking with a furrowed brow at her phone, she reminded herself this was only temporary.
Her sister would find this place lacking and she would find a way to fix her marriage and go back to her East Coast neighborhood where they had gates and superficial hellos as they did their morning jog in workout gear designed for aesthetic over sweat.
She didn't see her sister for the remainder of the day. Twice she made it halfway up the stairs to check on her, only to turn around, shaking her head as she descended.
Why had she come here? To Tilly? They didn't have the kind of relationship that was invitational. They didn't lean on each other. They rarely checked in with each other.
She ate a late snack on the front porch, enjoying the sunshine as she rocked back and forth. She'd picked up a box of tarts from Eloise that morning, and she was currently eating a blueberry honey one.
The crow sat on the porch railing, seemingly taking in the sun that splintered through the tree cover. She had determined it was a crow rather than a raven.
His or her wings took on a bluish hue where the sun kissed their feathers.
She did leave a strawberry tart with a note for her sister and a pot of tea before she left for the evening. Walking home was when she swam through her thoughts, as the day was left behind with its tasks and to-dos, her thoughts pulled her into their depths, these days usually revolving around one man. His stoic face, his statue-like demeanor.
His warm breath against her skin.
Still, the memory sent shivers down her shoulders to her fingertips, which she wiggled and then tightened into fists.
"I should probably name you," she said to the crow who was expertly hopping from one branch to the next above her. "Oh, do you know Cleopatra? She's a hawk that looks over Eloise. Is that what you are? A protector sent from the world of magic to look over me?" Then another thought struck her. Did she need protecting?
Once upon a time, the answer to that had been yes.
"Talking to ghosts?"
The voice made her jump and let out a squeak of surprise. When she turned to a laughing Ronnie, she let out a breath of relief.
"Don't walk up on people like that. Especially a woman alone at night. Why do I have to keep telling men this?"
He smirked. "Yeah, but this is a safe town, and aren't you part of a coven or something?" His words were teasing.
She narrowed her eyes, making him hold up his hands. "I read something about you and The Lost Souls Witches. Pretty interesting read. Crazy, but given the town we're in, it's fun."
"You looked me up?""Not really on purpose. Saw an article in The Salem Settler and it mentioned you all. Something about investigating the odd happenings. So, more interesting offer for the other night? That new chief was in the article, too. He seems...mysterious." He was teasing, but she could feel a thread of something else in his question.
Could it be insecurity?
