“Pretty much,” Ashlyn said as Shayne released her hand so that he could open the door for her. With a murmured, “Thank you,” she stepped inside only to be forced to bite back a soft groan when she felt his hand settle against the small of her back. Needing to put some space between them so that she could think clearly, Ashlyn smoothly stepped out of his touch and focused on the sitting room that looked like it belonged in a nineteenth-century Victorian mansion.
In every corner, there was an oversized leather chair with a cast iron lantern on a small side table next to it, a fire burned low in the stone fireplace to her right and to her left was a built-in bookshelf lined with everything fromHuckleberry FinntoTreasure Island. An antique podium stood by the door to her left, leading to what appeared to be a casual dining room with a bar taking up the far right corner of the room and to her right was a dimly lit hallway leading to the coatroom and the restrooms.
She noted the loveseat across from her before she focused her attention on the framed pictures lining every wall. The first few frames held sketches of the old tavern, the original blueprints for the main tavern, the official postings about town meetings, and old newspaper articles. Old photos of the McClellan family quickly followed along with pictures of the staff over the years, starting from the 1860s.
As she moved around the room, the pictures began to tell the story of the tavern. Ashlyn watched as stoic employees wearing drab clothing slowly changed, became brighter, and employees began smiling. There were photos of every holiday event, pictures of smiling children sitting on Santa’s lap, Easter Egg hunts, Mother and Father’s Day brunches, Fourth of July celebrations, fall festivals, Thanksgiving meals, customers bringing in the New Year, weddings, graduations, and big celebrations.
There were also framed menus showing the changes over the years from simple meals like lamb stew to filet mignon and caviar. She took in the framed awards, the letters thanking the McClellan family and the staff of the Winter Falls Tavern for everything they did for the community only to stop when she came across the large picture in loving memory of Jillian Mathers smiling down at her.
“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” came the softly murmured greeting that drew her attention to her right to find a man with warm brown eyes and a sad smile standing next to her.
“Did you know her?” Ashlyn asked, quickly noting that Shayne was nowhere to be found before running her eyes over the man standing next to her and taking in everything from his neatly combed dark hair, tailored suit and silver name tag, letting her know that he was none other than Caleb McClellan and focused back on the memorial plaque in Jillian’s honor.
“She was a few years older than me. I think she was sixteen, maybe, seventeen when she came to work here,” Caleb said as he reached over and straightened the plaque. “She was too damn kind for this world. She always had a smile on her face and spent hours humoring my grandfather, listening to his stories about the war, the Depression, and his love for a good cigar.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Ashlyn said as she moved to her right, taking in the news article about the memorial scholarship set up in Jillian’s honor.
“She was,” Caleb said, joining her. “I don’t think anyone ever got over her loss.”
“Did they ever find the man who did it?” Ashlyn asked, keeping her tone sympathetic as they continued slowly making their way around the room.
“Patrick Stevenson, a hitchhiker who helped my father with a flat tire and later became our groundskeeper. He stayed in one of the old lodging rooms upstairs,” Caleb said, taking her by surprise.
“He worked here?” she asked as they made their way past the fireplace, taking in the collection of muskets and bayonets secured to the wall above the mantel.
“Unfortunately,” Caleb said, his tone laced with regret. “The police kept that part out of the report, believing that they were protecting the reputation of the tavern. Most people believe thathe was just a hitchhiker passing through town who happened to come across a pretty girl in the woods.”
“But that’s not what happened,” Ashlyn said as they came to the hostess’ podium.
“No, it’s not,” Caleb said with a sad smile as he pulled a thick white envelope from the podium and handed it to her. At her questioning look, he said, “Maria said that we ran out the last time that you were here,” with a pointed look at the engagement ring on her finger.
“She has a good memory,” Ashlyn said as she glanced down at the thick envelope in her hands marked, Winter Falls Tavern Wedding Planner.
“Yes, she does,” Caleb said with a fond smile as the woman in question joined them. “Please let me know if you need anything,” he said as he made his way into the dining room, leaving her standing there, unable to help but wonder where Shayne went.
CHAPTER 11
“Cut me down first.”
“That wasn’t the deal, lad,” Shayne said as he scrolled through his phone, debating his options as the man, who he was guessing had been strung up sometime in the late eighteenth century judging by his clothes, continued to gently sway above his head.
“Who’d ye piss off, lad?” Declean asked from his spot on the stone wall.
“I was framed!” came the immediate reply that had Declean chuckling as Shayne sat there, torn between mints and gum for his little problem with motion sickness. He’d never chewed gum before, but he was willing to try anything at this point.
He’d never had problems riding in a car when he was a spirit, but now that he was human again, his stomach couldn’t seem to handle it. Normally, he had his brothers flash him wherever he needed to go, preferring the sudden drop in his stomach to the overwhelming nausea that threatened to destroy his very soul that came from riding in a car, but with Ashlyn, that wasn’t an option.
“Have ye seen any other spirits come through here, lad?” Shayne asked as he came across a section for over-the-counter medication that was supposed to help with motion sickness.
“A few,” came the hesitant answer that had Shayne exiting out of the browser and pulling up a picture of Jillian Mathers.
“Have ye seen her?” Shayne asked, holding up his phone.
“I can’t see that from here,” he said, pointedly looking up at the sky while Shayne stood there, taking in the noose wrapped around his neck before he followed the rope that had been thrown over the branch above to the base of the tree where it had been tied off.
“What’s yer name, lad?” Shayne asked as Declean disappeared from the stone wall only to reappear by the tree.
“Robert,” came the answer, followed by a muffled curse when Declean released the rope and dropped him to the ground. Shayne watched as Robert dragged himself to his feet, glaring at them as he reached up and pulled the noose off before tossing it aside. Shayne watched as Robert’s gaze flickered between them before he shifted slightly to his right leg and-
