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Now, I looked this up. A belfry is the upper section of a building or tower where bells are traditionally housed—so yeah, apparently there was once a working bell atop Bell’s Books, Bed & Breakfast.

Maybe that’s where the name came from?

Of course, Bell's doesn't have an actual bell anymore. But it does have bats.

Fourteen vegetarian supernatural vampire bats who have developed an unhealthy obsession with tomatoes.

Mine specifically.

Clarissa and I relocate them to a purpose-built roost at the far end of the property. And yeah, I stock it with tomatoes.

Not the Brandywines.

I'm in love, not insane.

Belinda sees me. She says nothing.

But that evening, the empty basket I used to carry the tomatoes comes back over the fence.

Clean.

More progress.

Next, we tackle the attic.

The ghosts already have their spectral residence. What they lack is taste.

Donna Summers at two in the fucking morning is one thing. I have nothing against Donna Summers. But listening to it on repeat for six straight hours is a crime against the living and the dead.

I install enchanted soundproofing. Clarissa finds an old turntable. One of her brothers brings spectral speakers. Another Sprite hangs a tiny, mirrored ball.

And I add a charm that keeps the music inside the attic after ten.

The ghosts love it.

Belinda stands at the bottom of the attic stairs with her arms folded.

“You don't have to do this.”

“I know, Sweet.”

Her eyes flick to mine. But that's all I say.

No demand.

No declaration.

No you're mine.

I go back to work.

She watches for another ten minutes.

And that’s more progress.

After, I ward the property. This task matters a great deal to me.

I use protection spells at the gates. Reinforced charms around the windows. A layered barrier around the foundation to keep anything truly dangerous from wandering inside with paying guests.