“So… just for the carriage house foundation repairs, we’re looking at $55,000 minimum. Which when added to the foundation, roof, and electrical work for the main house and the roof for the barn, you’re looking at close to $150K. Give or take a few thousand.” The contractor leaned his bulk frame against his truck as the massive weight of the estimate settled onto Madeline’s conscious. No, this is not a bad dream, she thought. And no, I will never get a day off.
“Out of curiosity, how do people actually afford to pay you for repairs?” Michael’s voice boomed through the speaker phone.
“Michael, I’ll call you back,” Madeline strained to see the phone screen through her tears as she disconnected the call. She took a deep breath and tucked the phone into her back pocket.”We will discuss your bid and give you a call in a couple of days,”
The man shrugged. “I’m scheduling for next summer right now. Don’t wait too long.”
She watched the contractor drive off, convinced that the last of her hopes and dreams were fading as fast as his tail-lights on the dusty road.
They had managed to blow through their entire cash reserve in the first four months of inn ownership. The expected issues-electrical, roof, plumbing-were no match for the unexpected: a second septic system that they only found because it failed, creating a spectacular and surprising fountain in the owner’s quarters bathroom.
And it was still more than three months before Michael made the move from Texas.
Madeline pulled her sweater tighter around her neck and looked up at one of the second story rooms. Taylor was inside, making the bed in what they now referred to as “Simon’s Room.” They never knew when he’d pop up, but he was at least making himself useful by filling Taylor in on the history of the property-as he knew it-and of his family tree. There was always a sense of melancholia about him, which Madeline chalked up to him being dead.
She was startled by the crunch of tires on the gravel and two quick beeps from a sleek and totally out of place Tesla sedan pulling into the drive.
“Well hello to my favorite B&B and wedding venue owner,” chortled Mark Barnes as he practically jumped from the car. Madeline had never met anyone who was as consistently and annoyingly jovial as Mark. From the day he gave them their first tour of the property until the day they closed on the inn, his ‘aw shucks’ and ‘let’s get this done’ positivity somehow rang a bit false to her.
“Hi, Mark,” Madeline replied. “Probably not the greatest day for a visit. We just got a pretty devastating bid on some necessary work and I’m a bit beat down at the moment.”
“C’mon, Maddie!” Madeline cringed when anyone called her ‘Maddie.’ “Don’t worry. I’ll send my guy over to check things out. Sometimes things that “need” to be done don’t actually “need” to be done if you know what I mean.”
Madeline snorted. “Sure, Mark, that would be great. I’ve gotta run…”
“Now wait one minute. I did come to see you for a reason.” Mark hooked his thumbs through his suspenders as he waited for her to take the bait.
With that affected gesture, Madeline realized what exactly it was that bothered her about Mark. Besides the fact that he was a serial “omitter” of facts, every tiny thing he did had a motive. Hooking his thumbs through the suspenders made him seem folksy, with an almost yokel-like innocence, enticing his audience to lean in and want to know more. To trust what he was saying. Solving problems, finding a contractor-all designed to achieve his ends.
Holy shit, Madeline thought as she shook those thoughts from her head. I need a break. Everyone is not out to get me. I’m just tired and cranky. “Why don’t you come inside for a sec, then. I’ll get some tea-or something stronger if you’d like.” I sure would like something stronger.
“Just a bit of water would be fine.” Mark followed her through the fireplace room and into the kitchen where she grabbed some glasses and poured water directly from the sink. “Vermont’s finest,” Mark raised his glass to her and Vermont well water.
“Oh, by the way, thanks for telling me about the murder on the property.” She tried to keep her voice light and conversational. “And the almost murder.” Mark inhaled just as he lifted the glass to his lips and choked on a bit of that fine water. “Oh, no – let me get a towel.”
Mark waved her off and wiped his mouth with his hand as he regained the very momentarily lapsed composure. “What murder and almost murder would that be?”
Madeline sensed that he knew, but wanted to know what she knew.
“Oh, that some Revolutionary War soldiers did a robber or something and had a disagreement of some kind that ended in one of them being killed. Taylor and I found a book…” Madeline realized she didn’t exactly know anything.
“The fireplace book?” Mark asked.
“Well, yeah.” Madeline was feeling a bit sheepish now. “And also, our neighbor mentioned that someone might have ‘encouraged’ a former owner to fall down the stairs. He died, she said.”
“First, the fall down the stairs was an accident resulting from bad maintenance of those stairs in the barn. Remember? I pointed out how we fixed them. And he died a week later of something completely unrelated. Heart attack I think.” Is it my imagination, or is he getting antsy? Madeline thought.
“As far as the other rumor, that has been around as long as this house has been here, and there has never been one iota of proof that any murder happened here yesterday, last year, or 250 years ago.” Mark took a deep breath and another sip of water.
Madeline noticed that his smile was a bit tighter than normal and his eyes narrower and more shrewd-seeming.
“But funny you should mention that old rumor, because I come here today to offer you a service that can put all of that to rest forever.” And just like that, he had regained his people-pleasing persona.
“What service is that?” she asked. And what will it cost me?
“A cousin of mine is an amateur archeologist of sorts. Well, to be completely honest he’s a bit of mess, actually. He’s been metal-detecting around town-and finding mostly bullets and horseshoes, honestly. And he’d like to come out here and see if there is anything to get excited about. I did tell him that it would most likely just be more bullets and horseshoes, but I wanted to see if you were okay with him and a buddy poking around one day next week.”
Madeline raised her eyebrow and looked Mark right in the eyes. “And in the remote chance he finds something of value? What then?”
Mark looked at the ceiling and shrugged. “I guess we’d discuss a finder’s fee for him, and the profits for you.”
“I guess no harm can come from-” Madeline and Mark both jumped as her answer was interrupted by a huge crash from upstairs.
“What in the…” Mark was flustered.
“Probably the cat.” Madeline knew it wasn’t the cat. “Be right back.”
Madeline sprinted up the back stairs and into the hallway above the kitchen. Simeon was pacing. “Did you break anything? What the-how the hell did you make that noise?”
“Nothing is broken, and I didn’t make the noise,” Simon answered. “I don’t know what the noise was. I am investigating.”
Madeline was still not a hundred percent comfortable having a conversation with a ghost, but he seemed so worried that she very quickly switched into “mom” mode. “Is Taylor okay? Are you ok?” She immediately regretted asking that second question.
“I am the same,” Simeon replied. “And Taylor is as well. But the man downstairs, he is not someone to be trusted.”
“Yeah-I picked up on that,” she said frustratedly. “He’s a salesman, basically. He never actually tells the whole truth. I’m pretty sure that it is physically impossible for him to be completely honest. But that’s his business: making everything seem possible. That’s why we bought this place. He made it seem possible.”
Madeline leaned against the wall the covered her face with her hands. “But it isn’t possible.” Now not only was she talking to a specter, she was confiding in one. It’s time for a break, she thought wistfully, knowing that she wasn’t getting one.
“Be careful,” Simeon said as he disappeared back down the hall towards his room.
Madeline closed her eyes. There is no harm in metal detecting. Too bad her hopes and dreams weren’t made of iron, then maybe the metal detector could find them.
She took a deep breath and headed downstairs. “Mark, you have a deal.” She thrust her hand towards him. “Your cousin can have 15% of whatever he finds, but he can only be here when we are home, and I want to see everything that comes out of the ground.”
“That’s fair, and we agree to those terms,” Mark said as he shook her hand. For too long.
Madeline didn’t believe him.