Pet Friendly Page 5
Of all the weekends to be out on the road.
He called Claire to give her his revised ETA.
“I don’t think we’re going to make it in time for dinner,” he said. “I got a late start and traffic is miserable.”
“How’s the weather where you are?”
“Fine,” he said. “Why?”
“Bob just told me we’ve got ice pellets coming down out here. You might want to find a place to stay the night and start out again in the morning.”
“I think we’ll be okay, but if anything changes I’ll give you a call.”
“How’s Gwen holding up?”
“She, um, didn’t come.”
Imagining the look on his sister’s face, he braced for a scathing comeback.
“I’ll keep your dinner warm for you,” she said. “Just drive carefully, okay?”
“Will do,” he said. “Thanks.”
Todd looked at the phone.
Well, that was different.
“Looks like it’ll be slow going for a while,” he told Archie. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”
The little dog glanced from Todd to the stationary cars around them and back again, as if confirming that there was, indeed, nothing much to look at. Then he yawned expansively, smacked his lips, and curled up on the seat, pausing a moment before he closed his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Todd said. “I’ll let you know if anything exciting happens.”
While Archie dozed and the Jeep crept forward, Todd thought about what had just happened on the phone. Claire had been going out of her way to be hostile to his girlfriend since the moment they met, but she’d just been given the perfect opportunity to unload on Gwen and hadn’t taken it. What had changed?
Maybe, he thought, it had something to do with their conversation the day before. Todd had suspected for years that Claire was nursing a grudge about his so-called abandonment of Emma Carlisle. Being younger, she’d been sheltered from the unpleasant realities of the family’s situation after their father’s death, and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if Claire had misinterpreted his willingness to help out as an excuse to leave Emma behind.
Whatever the reason was, though, he hoped this signaled the end of Claire’s campaign against his girlfriend. Todd was nuts about Gwen. He was determined to marry her, and his sister’s complaint that she only cared about money was ridiculous—Gwen’s family was loaded! Sure, she talked a lot about the nice things she had, but that was only because she had a lot of nice things to talk about. Deep down, Gwen was no more materialistic than anyone else, and once she realized that Todd’s desire for a simpler, slower-paced life was sincere, he knew she’d be as excited about the possibilities as he was.
After forty minutes of crawling along, the snarled traffic suddenly evaporated and the Jeep began to pick up speed. By then, however, the sky had darkened and it wasn’t long before rain was pelting down. The sound of the windshield wipers woke Archie from his nap. He stood up on the seat, put his paws on the dashboard, and stared avidly at their back-and-forth motion.
“Careful,” Todd told him. “Don’t give yourself a stiff neck.”
The rain would slow them down a bit, he thought, but at least they were moving forward again. As they passed the first construction zone without incident, Todd began to feel more confident about their prospects for reaching Claire’s house that night. Unfortunately, the sound of water sluicing along the car had a predictable effect on both man and dog, and it wasn’t long before they were searching for a rest stop.
“And maybe a McDonald’s, too,” Todd said, peering through the downpour. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
CHAPTER 6
“Excuse me, Miss Carlisle, have you got a moment? There’s a little problem I need to discuss with you.”
Emma had just gotten to work that morning when her handyman, Jake, showed up. Finding Jake at her office door was always unsettling. He cared more about the inn than anyone other than Clifton and herself, but he had yet to come to her with a “little problem” that had cost her less than a thousand dollars. Given the inn’s precarious financial situation, she’d been hoping the two of them could remain strangers for at least a few more months. She invited him to take a seat and closed the door.
“What’s on your mind?” she said.
“It’s the roof. You remember there was a problem after that windstorm in August?”
“Right. We lost some shakes over the east wing. I thought that was fixed.”
“It was,” he said. “But at the time, I warned you that the underlying structure was unsound. We need to shore up that roof before the rains start up in earnest or the water’ll eat right through the ceiling below.”
“That’s over the Spirit Room, isn’t it?”
“Right.”
Emma considered that for a moment. It wasn’t only rain that was the problem. Once snow started falling, every cubic foot of accumulation would place fifteen to twenty pounds of pressure on the already-weakened roof. If it caved in, water damage would be the least of her worries.
“How bad is it leaking now?”
Jake shrugged. “No way to tell for sure without cutting a hole in the roof and sending the scope down.”
“You still haven’t found the door to that part of the attic, I take it?”
“No, ma’am. Whoever built this place had some pretty strange ideas about construction.”
She nodded. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this problem. Old buildings weren’t made to conform to modern codes, and when they were built for people with more money than sense, they could be downright bizarre. No wonder everyone thought the Spirit Inn was haunted.
“Have you got any idea what it would take to fix it?” she said.
Jake considered that awhile.
“No,” he said. “But it’s probably going to be a bigger job than I can do on my own; the damage could go all the way to the ceiling. Even if it doesn’t, though, I’ll still need somebody to give me a hand.”
Emma bit her lip. Hiring someone with the right skills who was willing to take a temporary position wasn’t going to be easy—or cheap. She knew Jake resented being the last one on her priority list, but if he’d just stick it out a little longer, she swore she’d make it up to him.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ve applied for another loan at the bank; I should hear from them in the next few days. Until then, why don’t you throw a tarp over the damaged area and give me an estimate for the work that needs to be done?”
Jake was clearly unhappy about her refusal.
“It won’t be worth the paper it’s written on if I can’t get in there and take a look first,” he grumbled.
“Then just do the best you can.” She glanced at the door. “Listen, I have to make sure that things are ready for tonight. Let me think about this some more and we’ll talk about it again on Monday, okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “Monday, then.”
Jake walked out of the office and closed the door more firmly than necessary.
Just what she needed, Emma thought, another expense. When was the place going to stop being a money pit? She set her elbows on the desk and massaged her temples. It was times like these when Emma missed her grandmother the most. “You could sell it, take the money, and see the world.”
Her banker’s words came back to her as Emma stared down at her desk. Hardly a week went by when she didn’t get a call from a developer asking if she’d be willing to sell. It was getting so that the natural beauty of the area was something only the ultrarich could enjoy. The ski lodges were bad enough, but tens of thousands of acres had been bought up and fenced off by high-tech millionaires who built enormous “cabins” that remained vacant most of the year. The way she saw it, if she sold out there’d be that much less for regular folks.
She sat up straight and took a deep breath. It doesn’t matter, Emma thought. She’d been through a lot worse: a troubled childhood, her mother’s
overdose, abusive boyfriends. She was determined to make this place work. Her loan was going to be approved, the roof would get fixed, and the problem that was eating up her profits would be resolved. In the meantime, there were guests who needed her. She would not let them down.
Emma took a peek in the mirror before heading out. As she adjusted her ascot, she wondered if the whole Victorian theme was really worth the bother. The jackets the staff wore had to be custom-tailored, and although the dry-cleaning bills weren’t exorbitant, it would be a lot cheaper if they switched to outfits that could be laundered in-house. Clifton had nearly had a stroke when she mentioned the possibility, but sooner or later he’d have to admit that if they wanted to put the inn on a stronger financial footing, they’d have to start thinking outside the box. If he was going to insist that Jean-Paul be more frugal with the kitchen staples, he had to be ready to make a few sacrifices himself.
Adam was alone at the front desk when she walked out. Emma looked around.
“Where’s Clifton?” she said.
He shrugged. “He took off when you got here.”
She nodded absently. Clifton never seemed to stop patrolling the inn. At least once a day, it seemed, he would run off and neither Emma nor anyone else would be able to find him. Then a few hours later he’d turn up, having inspected the grounds, tested the water pressure in one of the rooms, or inventoried the staples in the pantry. Emma had spent years working at the inn, but she’d have bet there were still places Clifton had been that she didn’t know existed.
And even he can’t find the door to the attic.
“Well, if you see him again, will you tell him to come find me? I’m going down to the conference rooms.”
“Sure thing,” Adam said. “By the way, thanks for the help last night. Guess I’m still a little slow.”
“You were doing fine,” she said. “I just needed something to do.”
Emma struck out across the lobby, waving at familiar faces and exchanging a word or two with those she’d missed the night before. A woman visiting for the first time said she was interested in nineteenth-century Queen Anne buildings, and while the two of them discussed the finer points of Eastlake versus Gothic Revival influence on American Victorian architecture, Emma took a look at the ceiling. Whatever might be wrong with the roof over the Spirit Room, she thought, at least it wasn’t evident in there.
She checked the banquet room, making sure the tables and chairs had been set up, the place settings were all arranged, and the decorations were complete. Then Emma spent several minutes walking around the Spirit Room, inspecting its ceiling from every angle. There was a slight bow in the middle and a few superficial cracks that had probably been there for years, but no signs of mold or water damage. That didn’t mean that her handyman was wrong, of course, but it did ease her mind a bit. For the time being, at least, they wouldn’t have to set out buckets to catch any leaks. And who knew? Maybe Jake would drop his camera inside and find that there wasn’t much to repair after all.
When she’d finished her inspection, Emma went back to the banquet room and asked one of the waitresses if she’d seen Clifton. The woman told her that he’d dropped by the kitchen for a short time about ten minutes before but that no one had seen him since. As Emma stood there amid the occult-themed décor, she wondered if her assistant manager might actually be one of the ghosts that were said to inhabit the Spirit Inn. It certainly would explain a lot.
CHAPTER 7
Todd and Archie were finally off the Interstate and the Jeep was making good time when his phone rang. It was Claire.
“Where are you?”
“Almost to Monroe,” he said. “We got hung up in traffic and took the detour from hell. Why?”
“The weather out here is getting worse. The highway patrol is advising all nonemergency vehicles to stay off the roads until tomorrow afternoon.”
Todd looked out his windshield at a garden-variety rainstorm.
“It doesn’t look that bad here.”
“Yeah, but you’re about five thousand feet below us. Once you get past Gold Bar, things are going to get ugly.”
“Crap.”
They’d gone too far to turn around, Todd thought. He and Archie would just have to stop for the night.
“So, what do you want to do?” she said.
“We’ll have to find a place to stay, I guess. Know any motels out here that allow pets?”
“There’s the Dog Days Inn. It’s about five miles past Monroe.”
Todd chuckled. “The Dog Days Inn, huh? What’s it like?”
“We’ve never stayed there, but Bob knows a guy at work who has. He says it’s all right.”
“I’ll check it out. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate to leave you in the lurch.”
“No problem,” he told her. “Not much either of us can do about the weather. I’ll talk to you later.”
When they hung up, Todd looked up directions to the Dog Days Inn. Google Maps said it was about seven minutes away. Yelp gave it two stars.
Oh well, he thought. You can’t expect five-star accommodations at a pet-friendly hotel. Besides, it was only for one night. How bad could it be?
But when he pulled into the hotel’s gravel driveway, Todd’s optimism faltered. What had appeared on the Internet to be a quaint Swiss chalet was actually a one-story cinder-block building with a white clapboard façade, green shutters, and a peaked roof made of corrugated steel. The Jeep rolled to a stop.
“Well, what do you think?”
Archie put his nose to the window and the two of them stared out at the peeling paint, damaged siding, and weeds growing along the foundation.
“Yeah,” Todd said. “It’s a little run-down.”
He pointed.
“And there’s some dog doo over there . . . plus a few beer cans and cigarette butts.”
Archie shrank back.
“Tell you what,” Todd said. “You wait here while I go in and take a look. Maybe it’s not so bad inside.”
He stepped out and made his way carefully toward the front door.
The first thing Todd noticed was the smell: a disagreeable blend of urine, smoke, and pine cleaner. The olive-green carpet was a patchwork of stains and cigarette burns and the furnishings looked like garage sale castoffs. Even so, the place was pretty busy. There was a play area just off the lobby with balls, chew toys, and a couch. A bored-looking teenager sat by the entrance, watching two bull terriers eviscerate one of the couch’s seat cushions.
Todd walked up to the counter and asked if there was a nonsmoking room available.
The desk clerk was reading the Daily Racing Form. He turned the page.
“We don’t have any nonsmoking rooms.”
That was surprising. Todd was pretty sure the law required every hotel in the state to have smoke-free accommodations.
The man looked up. “There’s a bed and a toilet in every room, but technically this is a kennel, not a hotel.”
A kennel? This guy had to be kidding. Still, Todd thought, he and Archie would need someplace to stay the night, and the weather was only going to get worse. He figured one night wouldn’t kill either of them.
“All right, I’ll take one of those.”
“Sorry,” the man said, returning his attention to the racing form. “We’re all full.”
“But the sign out front says ‘Vacancy.’ ” Todd pointed.
The clerk reached over and flipped a switch on the wall.
“No, it doesn’t.”
They drove for another half an hour trying to find a place that was pet friendly. As the elevation climbed and the sky grew darker, Todd began to lose hope. Archie, too, seemed upset; the little dog shifted in his seat, whining and refusing to settle. It had been a long time since their last break. Todd figured it was time to look for a rest stop.
“How about a walk?” he said. “The rain’s letting up. I bet we’ll both feel better after we’ve stretched our legs.”
“Hold on,” Todd said. “Let me at least stop first.”
But instead of calming down, Archie started digging at the door panel. As the Jeep turned into the parking lot, Todd felt a rush of cold air and saw the passenger window start to open.
“Whoa, hold on! Archie, stop!”
He lunged across the center console, grabbing for the little dog’s collar, but it was too late. With a yelp, Archie launched himself out of the open window and dashed off. Todd slammed on the brakes, but by the time he got out of the Jeep, the little dog was gone.
“Archie! Archie, where are you?”
It had been an hour since his uncle’s dog had disappeared. An hour Todd had spent tramping through the woods, following what he thought might be Archie’s tracks, and slowly losing hope that he would find the little dog before sundown. He pushed a branch aside and stumbled over an exposed tree root, barely regaining his balance in time to keep from toppling over. The farther he went, the darker it became and the harder it was to tell if the marks on the ground had been made by a small dog or a wild animal. Todd stopped and looked around at the increasingly dense underbrush, wondering if he should keep going or return to the Jeep. If he could just sit down and rest a minute, he thought, maybe he could figure out what to do next.
There’s a fallen log up there on the right, just past the next turn.
Goaded by his inexplicable certainty, Todd pushed on and found the log about forty yards ahead. He stood there staring down at it, wondering why he’d been so sure the log was in that exact place. In a forest that age, of course, there was a good chance he’d find fallen logs every so often, but this wasn’t the first time in the last few minutes that he’d known what lay just around the next corner. It was as if he was experiencing déjà vu over and over again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been there before.