Читать книгу Anything's Possible! - Judith McWilliams - Страница 5

“What you need is a gimmick, Aunt Hannah.” Cassie Whitney absently scooped up a handful of fresh, red raspberries from the bowl on the kitchen table and began to munch them.

“No, dear, what I need are paying guests. Even one or two would be nice.”

Hannah sighed despondently as she began to expertly shape the pastry for the raspberry tarts. “I feel so bad about Gertie. She depends on the money I pay her for cleaning the guests’ rooms to supplement her social security, and if there’re no guests...”

Cassie eyed her aunt worriedly, beginning to fear that the situation was even worse than she’d originally thought when she’d arrived last night to find the normally bustling inn silent. It wasn’t like Hannah to sound so discouraged. She had always been one of the most positive people Cassie had ever known. In fact, Cassie’s father claimed that after forty-four years of reading The Little Engine that Could to her kindergarten classes, Hannah had been brainwashed into believing that anything was possible.

“And if the truth were told, dear, I feel sorry for myself, too.” She gave Cassie a rueful smile. “I need the money the guests bring in. My pension is more than adequate for normal living expenses, but...” She glanced around the spacious, old-fashioned kitchen with affectionate resignation. “There’s no denying China View is very expensive. The heating bills alone are horrendous, and something always seems to need fixing or painting or replacing. And the taxes...” Hannah shuddered.

“Are the taxes in arrears?” Cassie cut to the heart of the matter.

“Not exactly,” Hannah hedged.

Cassie frowned as she considered the matter. “I would have thought you were either in arrears or you weren’t.”

“Well, you see, property taxes are paid in two installments. The first installment was due June first.”

“And this is June twenty-second. So you’re late.”

“Technically, but the tax office always gives you a ninety-day grace period before they take any action. And I was able to make a partial payment,” Hannah added.

“How much do we owe?”

“No, dear.” Hannah shook her gray head emphatically. “How much do I owe. China View is my white elephant, not yours.”

“It’s the family’s white elephant,” Cassie insisted. “Whitneys have been living here forever.”

“Only since 1844, when Jonas Middlebury died and left it to his fiancée, who was a distant relative of ours.”

“How romantic.” Cassie’s blue-gray eyes softened dreamily. “To die tragically and leave the love of your life all your possessions.”

“From all accounts, demon rum was the love of his life,” Hannah said tartly. “He’d have made poor Millicent a terrible husband.”

Cassie jumped at the sound of a thump coming from the pantry behind them. She turned and looked across the kitchen at the closed pantry door. “What was that?”

“Probably the wind blowing through the open window knocked something over,” Hannah replied, dismissing the noise. “You’ve been living in New York City too long. You’re nervous of your own shadow. Not only that, but you’ve lost weight.” She frowned at Cassie’s cheekbones, which were a shade too prominent beneath her creamy ivory skin. “You need fattening up.”

“It’s been a long, stressful winter in the advertising business.” Cassie massively understated the case. “But also a very successful one. You are looking at Welton and Mitchell’s newest vice president.”

“Congratulations, dear.” Hannah beamed with pride at Cassie’s achievement.

“Thank you. And, since I got that promotion because I’m very good at selling things, why don’t I use my expertise to sell China View to prospective guests? A month from now, when my vacation is over, you’ll need my room for the surplus guests.”

“Wouldn’t it be a comfort to be booked full?” Hannah popped the tray of tarts into the oven. “But this is your vacation, dear. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“And I will,” Cassie assured her. “But lying around doing nothing palls very quickly. I much prefer to have a project percolating in the back of my mind. It keeps me from getting bored.

“Now then,” she went on briskly, “I think our first order of business had better be the taxes. I’ll give you a check, and you can pay them.”

“I just don’t feel right taking money from you,” Hannah said worriedly.

“Think of it as a temporary loan. I do earn an excellent salary.”

“But I’m the adult and—”

Cassie laughed. “Aunt Hannah, it may have slipped your mind, but I’m thirty-four years old.”

Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “It doesn’t seem possible, but I guess you are. But even so...”

“Think of it as allowing me to invest in a piece of the family’s history. Now, what we need is a plan of action.” Cassie changed the subject before her aunt could think of any more objections. “Your business has dropped off because...?” She looked at her expectantly.

“Business has disappeared,” Hannah corrected. “And it’s because of that new resort they built four miles up the coast. I hear it’s the last word in luxury. They have a swimming pool, plus the ocean at their doorstep and a fancy French chef.”

Cassie munched on more raspberries as she considered the situation. “We don’t want to compete with their strengths.”

“We can’t compete with their strengths!”

Cassie ignored the home truth. “They’re offering an anonymous luxury that could be found anywhere. What we need to do is to push the local flavor of China View. This place is the essence of New Hampshire’s whaling past, from the collection of scrimshaw in the living room to the widow’s walk on the roof.

“Which brings us back to a gimmick.” Cassie absently tucked a stray reddish brown curl behind her ear. “We need something to make China View stand out from the resort. Something to make it unique.”

“Unique?” Hannah washed the flour off her hands as she considered the idea. “We could claim that the original owner brought back a treasure from one of his trips to the Orient and buried it on the grounds, and then drowned before he could retrieve it.”

Cassie shook her head. “We’d have guests digging up every flower bed on the place.”

“We could tell them that digging wasn’t allowed?”

Cassie eyed her aunt with affectionate amusement. “That tactic may have been successful in your kindergarten classes, but I guarantee it doesn’t work with adult greed. Anytime there’s money to be had, and free money at that, the rules of civilized society seem to go by the board. No, we need an attraction that appeals to something safer than people’s greed.”

“You mean like their intellectual curiosity? They...” Hannah frowned at what sounded like a pan falling off a shelf in the pantry. “Oh, dear,” she muttered. “I hope I haven’t gotten mice again. I do so hate to kill the poor little things.”

“That’s it!” Cassie exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with sudden excitement. “It’s perfect. It’s even timely.”

Hannah frowned in confusion. “Mice?”

“No, ghosts! Don’t you see, Aunt Hannah? It’s the perfect gimmick. We’ll say that China View is haunted!”

“But that’ll drive people away,” Hannah protested.

“No, it won’t,” Cassie said with absolute conviction. “People love ghosts. I’ll bet we’ll be filled to capacity as soon as the news gets out.”

“But how’s it going to get out?”

“We’re going to help it, of course.” Cassie’s soft pink lips lifted in a mischievous smile. “All we have to do is tell a few people that we saw what looked like a ghost, and the story’ll be all over the coast by week’s end. Maybe I can get Ed Veach at the newspaper to do a feature story on the sighting.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Isn’t that false advertising?” Hannah asked worriedly.

“Only if we actually claim that the inn has a ghost. And all I’m going to do is imply like crazy.”

“But...”

“If you don’t like the idea, Aunt Hannah, then of course I won’t use it. But I really don’t think it’s wrong. It’s not like we’re charging more and promising a ghost.”

“Our customers do get good value for their money,” Hannah said slowly.

“And they’ll have a great time trying to contact our ghost,” Cassie added. “Do you know if there’s ever been a hint of a ghost here at China View?”

“Not a murmur. I think ghosts are supposed to haunt places where violent deeds occurred, and nothing like that ever happened here.”

“What did happen here?” Cassie asked.

“Not much. Jonas Middlebury built China View for his fiancée, Millicent Whitney, and drowned at sea right afterward. He left the house to Millicent, and she lived here until she died, shortly before the First World War. She willed it to her nephew, who was your grandfather, and when he died, he left it to me, since your papa had already moved to Boston. Nobody has ever even died here.”

“Hmm, not much to work with.” Cassie wrinkled her small, straight nose in disappointment. “Too bad we didn’t have a more adventurous set of relatives. Jonas sounds the most interesting of the lot. How about if we claim that he’s our specter?”

Hannah pushed her glasses back on her nose as she considered the idea. “He’s probably our best choice. But what happens when no one ever sees him? People will stop coming, and I’ll be right back where I was.”

“What makes you think that they aren’t going to see him?” The twinkle in Cassie’s eyes deepened perceptively.

Hannah stared at her uncertainly. “Are they?”

“Yes,” Cassie said slowly. “Not indiscriminate sightings, of course. Just an occasional glimpse.”

“Moira Featheringham,” Hannah unexpectedly said.

Cassie blinked. “Who?”

“An old friend of mine, dear. Moira is very active in our local theatrical group. She might know where we could hire someone to play the part of Jonas.”

“Aunt Hannah, that’s perfect!” Cassie beamed approvingly at her.

“Thank you, dear. I’ll call Moira right now. Would you check the pantry for signs of mice and then keep an eye on the front desk for me? The only reservation I’ve had in weeks is supposed to arrive sometime late this morning.”

“Glad to.”

“And if you should need me for anything, dear, I’ll be up in the attic. I want to make a start on going through the old trunks up there for the church rummage sale.” With a preoccupied smile, Hannah disappeared up the back stairs.

Cassie finished off the last of the raspberries and then went to check the pantry. Opening the door, she stuck her head inside and glanced around. The window was closed, which left a mouse as the culprit. Stepping inside, she moved a few pans, looking for telltale droppings, but there was nothing to be seen.

Cassie frowned as she picked up an aluminum pie plate lying on the floor. It must have been stacked off balance and finally fallen, she decided as she carried it back to the kitchen. She set it down on the counter to be washed and then poured herself a mug of coffee, bringing it out to the tiny room off the lobby that served as an office. While she had the chance, she intended to go over the inn’s books to try to get some idea of how her aunt stood financially.

Two hours later, Cassie had a much clearer picture of the situation, as well as a more optimistic view of the future. While it was true that China View was expensive to run, Hannah had resisted the impulse to borrow. With the exception of the taxes, she had no outstanding debts. If they could just lure some of her guests back, Hannah and Gertie would be fine.

Cassie looked up as she heard the sound of a car engine straining up the steep incline of the inn’s driveway. Aunt Hannah’s lone reservation? she wondered as she got to her feet. She straightened the front of her copper silk camp shirt and adjusted the thin leather belt on her white linen slacks before going to greet what she hoped was a paying customer.

She hurried through the inn’s small lobby to the large window that faced the parking area in front. She peered out, but in the bright sunlight all she could see was a dark shape inside a white car. A rental car, she discovered, recognizing the sticker on the bumper.

Cassie instinctively leaned forward as the car door opened, curious as to what kind of guest they were about to get. Not the senior-citizen type China View normally attracted, she realized with sudden interest as a man slowly emerged from the car. This man was younger. Much younger. She studied the long, lean length of his legs, which were covered by a pair of tan cotton-twill pants, for an appreciative moment. Then her gaze skimmed upward over his flat stomach to linger speculatively on the width of his broad shoulders. Shoulders made even broader by the thick white cotton sweater he was wearing.

As she watched, he turned and, keeping one hand on the car door as if for support, studied the inn. The bright June sunlight poured over him, gilding his tanned skin to a shade of deep amber and adding a golden sheen to his honey brown hair. He looked aloof, remote and untouchable. As if he were a Greek god suddenly transported to earth.

Cassie shook her head in an effort to break the strange spell that the stranger’s presence had enmeshed her in. It wasn’t like her to react so fancifully to a man, she thought uneasily. Her years in advertising had long since taught her that physical looks counted for very little. They could be altered to create almost any image a person desired, just as they could mask virtually anything. It was the personality behind the looks that counted.

She watched as the man reached into the back seat of his car and pulled out a battered leather suitcase. He had a nice tush. In fact, he had a nice everything. Did everything include a wife? Her eyes narrowed consideringly. Somehow he didn’t look like anybody’s husband. He looked too... Cassie struggled to put a name to her impression. Unrestrained, she finally decided. He had an aura of being free and accountable to no one.

The sound of his footsteps on the weathered wooden boards of the front porch interrupted her speculations, and she retreated behind the reception desk.

The string of small bells above the front door gave off a silvery tinkle as the man pushed it open and stepped inside. His gaze swept around the small lobby assessingly, coming to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of Cassie. Leaving his suitcase just inside the door, he walked over to the reception desk and gave her a warm smile.

Even though Cassie was well used to the orthodontically perfect, gleaming white smiles of the male models she worked with, she was still taken aback. It wasn’t that this man’s smile was whiter or wider. It was that it was real, she realized. There was honest amusement in it. An amusement that was reflected in the tiny golden flecks that seemed to float in his dark brown eyes.

She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth. She didn’t know what this man had that was so potent, but whatever it was, she was certainly susceptible to it!

“This is China View, isn’t it?” His deep voice vibrated through her confused thoughts. It fitted him exactly, she thought distractedly. Powerful, darkly intriguing and sexy as hell.

“Um, yes.” She made a supreme effort to respond with her normal competence. “And you are...?”

“Dan Travis. I have a reservation.”

Cassie checked her aunt’s notation on the reservation sheet. “You’re in Room Fourteen.” She pushed the registration book toward him. “How long do you expect to be staying with us, Mr. Travis?”

“Dan, please.” He scrawled his signature across the blank sheet. “And it rather depends.”

“On what?” Cassie decided that the question wouldn’t be out of line from an innkeeper.

Dan stared into her bright, curious eyes and wondered what she’d say if he told her the truth. The gleam of interest he was almost sure was flickering in her eyes would probably die, and she would avoid him like the plague. Or tell him to leave.

And he didn’t want to leave. Not quite yet. His eyes swept over the mass of reddish brown curls that provided a vibrant frame for her classic features and lingered on the enticing curve of her lips. They looked so soft and velvety. What would they taste like? he wondered. Soft and sweet or tart and tantalizing?

She’d asked him a question; he pulled his wayward thoughts up short. If he didn’t want to make her suspicious, he’d better say something.

His best bet would undoubtedly be to keep his answers as close to the truth as possible, he decided. That way he wouldn’t have to remember a lot of lies.

“Business. I’m in insurance and, if something comes up that the office can’t handle, I may have to leave. For the moment, I’m supposed to be taking it easy. I was in an accident.” Bitter memory gave a painfully authentic edge to his voice. He’d never forget the whine of bullets whistling through the air. Or the dull thud they’d made as they’d slammed into the truck he’d been riding in. Or the terrified screams of the refugees in the back of that truck as the bullets had ripped through them. He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the memories.

Cassie glanced away from the raw pain burning in his eyes, feeling as if she had inadvertently intruded into something intensely personal. Had he lost someone he’d loved in the accident?

“So I decided to follow my doctor’s advice and spend a few weeks lying around in the sun.” Dan fought for an even tone.

“Doctors usually know best.” Cassie heard her pronouncement with a feeling of disgust. How could she have just uttered such trite drivel, when what she’d really wanted was to say something to banish the pain that seemed to radiate from him? But he might well resent any personal comments from her, she conceded. And even if he didn’t she still wouldn’t know what to say. Somehow words seemed a scant defense against such palatable anguish. This was probably a classic example of Least Said, Soonest Mended, she told herself.

“My aunt may have explained when she took your reservation that the inn serves breakfast and dinner, but not lunch. Though if you ask in advance, a picnic lunch can be prepared for you. And we request a deposit of one night’s stay,” Cassie said, giving him her usual spiel.

“Certainly.” He pulled an envelope out of his pants pocket and took out six one-hundred-dollar bills, dropping them on the counter. “Put that on my account.”

Cassie stared blankly at the small pile of bills. No one paid for anything with cash these days. For one thing, it wasn’t safe to be carrying that much money. There were too many people in the world only too eager to try to take it away from you....

She looked up, her eyes lingering speculatively on the hard thrust of his jaw. Dan Travis didn’t look like he’d be an easy man to take advantage of. Unexpectedly, she shivered. Her gut reaction was that he’d deal with threats in a ruthless fashion.

“We do take credit cards,” she offered.

He shrugged. “I’ve found that credit cards cause credit problems. I never use them.”

“I see.” Cassie picked up the bills, wondering why he was lying to her. That was a rental car he’d driven up in, and you couldn’t rent a car without a credit card. So why would he use a credit card for his rental car and then pay cash for his room? It made no sense. Unless he didn’t want whoever paid his bills to know that he’d been here. But why not? China View was about as innocuous a place as one could find. An eighteenth-century Puritan minister wouldn’t find anything to complain about.

“Is cash a problem?” Dan asked.

“Umm, no,” Cassie hastily disclaimed. “No, not at all.” She scooped the bills up and shoved them into her pocket. “I was intending to go into town this afternoon anyway. I’ll deposit it in the bank then.”

“Is there a restaurant in town?”

“Uh-huh,” Cassie murmured, debating whether to invite him along with her. He was definitely the most interesting thing that had happened on her vacation so far. And if past visits to China View were any indication, he was the most interesting thing that was likely to happen. On the other hand, she didn’t want to give him the impression that she was in the habit of making a play for every personable male who appeared at the inn.

“I’ll have to get directions from you,” he said. “I missed breakfast, and I’ll never last till dinner.”

A hint to be asked along? Possibly. She would invite him to go with her, she finally decided. The worst thing that could happen would be for him to refuse. She’d survived men refusing her invitations in the past and undoubtedly would in the future.

“You’re welcome to ride along with me if you like,” she said casually. “I have an errand to run, but I always finish up by having coffee at the café.”

“I’d love to.” He gave her a sudden smile that sent a sparkle of anticipation through her. “If you can wait until I put my case in my room and make a phone call?”

“Sure. Just push nine for an outside line.” Cassie handed him his key. “Number fourteen is at the top of the stairs, second door on the right. I’ll meet you out front in half an hour.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he picked up his suitcase and began to slowly climb the stairs, obviously favoring his right leg.

Who did he want to call the minute he arrived? Cassie wondered as she went in search of her aunt, to tell her that her reservation had arrived and she was taking him into town with her.

She found Hannah in the attic, happily reliving the past as she sorted through the trunks that lined the walls. As Cassie had expected, she had no objections to her borrowing the car to go into town.

Cassie had just located her aunt’s car keys on the kitchen counter when she heard a thump at the back door. She pocketed the keys and cautiously peered out the window over the kitchen sink. After twelve years of living in New York, being careful was second nature. Spying a man outside, she observed him carefully. Because of the way he was standing, she couldn’t get a clear view of his face. All she could tell for certain was that he wasn’t all that tall. Not much more than her own five-four.

Curious as to why he would have come to the back of the inn instead of the front, she opened the door. Her eyes widened as she studied the man standing on the stoop. He was wearing a rusty black suit of an antiquated design. Clutched in one of his large hands was a battered, black felt hat. Dusty boots covered his oversize feet, but it was his face that Cassie found fascinating. He had a full, black, bushy beard that almost totally obscured his features and piercing black eyes that snapped with some emotion.

“Well?” he demanded.

Impatience. Cassie identified the emotion with an inward sigh. She saw a lot of it in her line of work.

“Well what?” she shot back, refusing to be intimidated by someone who looked like he’d wandered out of a Broadway rehearsal. Broadway rehearsal? She examined the man more closely. He looked exactly like one of those old paintings of whaling captains hanging in the town library. She grinned happily at him. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Aunt Hannah’s friend at the amateur theater group had done them proud. And on such short notice, too. Now, if only his command of acting was as good as his knowledge of period costumes, and he didn’t demand a fortune for the impersonation. She hastily wiped the eager expression off her face.

“Won’t you come in?” She moved aside.

“Thank ‘ee.” Jonas stepped into the kitchen. “I’ve come about the haunting job. I want it.”

“You certainly look the part.” Cassie gave credit where it was due. “Did Aunt Hannah’s friend explain what we want?”

“Someone to scare the bejammers out of your guests.”

“I think it would be better if you were just to shake their bejammers a little. I don’t want to send anyone into shock.”

Jonas shook his head in bemusement. “Beats me why anyone would want to be scared, even a little. But then there’s no accounting for tastes and that’s a fact.”

“It’s also one of the first premises of any advertising campaign. Now then, Mr.... What did you say your name was?”

“Didn’t. You can just call me Jonas. Captain Jonas Middlebury.”

Role immersion, Cassie thought in approval. “What we need, Jonas, is for you to put in an appearance most days for a few hours and judiciously allow yourself to be seen once. At most, twice. We don’t want to saturate the market and destroy our credibility.”

“Do you speak English, gal?” Jonas frowned at her. “Didn’t understand a blamed thing you said. Ain’t natural for a woman to talk like that.”

“Don’t get too far into the nineteenth century,” Cassie said dryly. “Some modern woman is liable to strangle you. What I meant was that I don’t want you to show yourself too often because people won’t believe it.”

“They’ll believe in me,” Jonas stated with a conviction Cassie found heartening. “I’ll give you good value.”

“What do you charge?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.” Jonas scratched his beard reflectively. “Haven’t got much use for money, being a ghost and all.” He shot a covetous glance at the freshly baked raspberry tarts sitting on the counter. “But now food, that’s another matter.”

“Ghosts don’t eat.” Cassie couldn’t resist pointing out the flaw in his logic.

“Don’t know about ghosts in general, but this ghost eats.” He inched a little closer to the tarts.

Cassie found herself smiling at him. He was such an interesting mixture of belligerence and charm. “How about if we say five dollars an hour and all the food you can eat?”

“Deal.” He sat down at the kitchen table, still staring at the pastries. “Starting now.”

“Starting now,” Cassie agreed, well pleased with their bargain. Jonas was absolutely perfect for the role. She couldn’t have done better if the real Jonas Middlebury himself had materialized. She scooped a tart onto a plate and then, at his hopeful expression, added a second.

Yes. Things were definitely shaping up. This was going to be a very interesting vacation, she thought happily. Anything was possible with a ghost in the kitchen and Dan Travis in an upstairs bedroom.