“We really need our own place,” I muttered as Valerie scrambled off the counter and waved to our ghostly friend like he was joining us for breakfast.
Spoiler alert. Don’t try the bacon.
“Looks like we’re spending the day in the attic again,” Valerie said, taking a sip from her mug. “We still have one more day. We can find the guest book.”
“I already did.”
Her head snapped up. “Seriously?”
“Last night.” I nodded toward the ghost. “Valerie, meet Daniel Keene—Natalie's guest for a few days while she was staying at the inn.”
Daniel inclined his head, the movement courteous despite the phantom wind whipping the edges of his coat.
Valerie snatched her phone off the counter and started typing.
“Found it,” she said after a beat. She scrolled through the webpage. “It says Daniel Keene lived a few towns over. He was a toymaker—specializing in hand-carved wooden toys. There isn't much info, except for this.”
She turned the screen toward me, her thumb pressed against the headline of an oldarticle.
Tri-state Blizzard Claims Lives—Local Toymaker Missing
“The name wasn't all I found. There was also a photograph,” I said, “taken early December 1975—Daniel and Natalie standing in the banquet hall.” I hesitated, rubbing the signet ring around my finger. “And one more thing. I think he’s looking for a ring.”
Her eyes flicked to the ghost, then to me. “How do you know?”
“My ring glowed when I found the photo.”
“Your ring glowed,” Valerie repeated slowly, setting her mug down to pace the tiles. Her gaze went distant, that focused look she got when her brain started connecting threads. “So Daniel was here earlier in December… but the storm hit Christmas Eve. Maybe he came back.”
I glanced at Daniel. The air seemed to hum, faint but electric. My ring pulsed once. Then the draft stirred the table where the first challenge card fluttered. A knowing look passed between us—heavy and wordless.
“A proposal,” I said, the realization settling like a stone in my chest. “He probably came back to surprise her on Christmas Eve, and something happened. He never got the chance.”
Valerie stopped pacing. "Natalie’s obituary said she was never married. She spent every Christmas here until the skating show moved in 1980. That’s the year the hauntings escalated.”
She looked up, her voice softening. “He missed her.”
We both turned to the ghost. The solemn look in his eyes confirmed Valerie’s suspicion, and his silent nod made it official.
“But if he's still here because of a ring, where is it now?” I asked. “It’s been fifty years. This place has been cleaned thousands of times. Someone could’ve taken it.”
“It must still be here,” Valerie said, her brow furrowing as she thought. “That medium from the case files, remember? She said the ghost was bound to somethinginsidethe walls.” Valerie huffed a breath. “I figured she meant like… his femur or something. But it’s the ring. I just know it.”
“All right, then we start looking. Maybe it fell into a crevice or behind a vent somewhere.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, mentally cataloging all the places it could be. One day to search every crack and hidden nook in this place. It was daunting.
A selfish thought surfaced. If I stalled and ran out the clock, there’d be no key. The case would stay unsolved, and Valerie would never have the chance to erase us.
I hated myself for thinking it. We were miracle agents. The case had to come first. Daniel deserved a fair shake, and Valerie deserved to know she could finish this without her magic. But that didn't mean I wasn't tempted.
Valerie poured herself a fresh coffee, then eyed the cooling pan on the stove. “There’s just one problem… we’re still starving.”
“The morning’s half gone.” I reached for my coat. “The sun’s out. Roads are probably clear. You start upstairs, and I’ll run out and grab us a pizza.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Pizza? On Christmas Eve Eve?”
“It’ll be a new tradition.” I shot her a look. “I’ll have them add bacon.”
Valerie curled her lip into a little snarl, addressing the ghost instead of me. “You burn one meal and suddenly you geta reputation.”
