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“You’re sure? We only have eleven weeks and three days, and there are six cabins that need…well, a lot. Not gutting, but the next best thing.”
“I’ve got my end of it covered. You focus on your part.”
“All right. See you in two days,” I say, disconnecting the call. My part, aside from hovering around and making sure everything goes perfectly, includes shopping for everything required to furnish the cabins, as well as having new signage made and sprucing up the beach.
Phone in one hand and sprinkled donut in the other, I start touring the cabins, taking videos and making notes of everything that needs to be done. When the work really gets going, I’ll probably stay out here to oversee things, but until then, I want my to-do list to be as detailed as possible.
There’s also the matter of press. Haven’s Hollow depends on tourism, and the lake’s spooky haunted history can be a draw for some people—and a turnoff for others. I need to find a way to make it universally appealing.
And then, of course, there’s the matter of the dead body.
Libra has never shared the specifics of what happened that night. At least, not with me. I assume she told the police, but all I know is that her ex, Evan, tried to kill her. Libra’s new boyfriend Callister showed up at just the right moment and managed to fight Evan off. And then, somehow, Evan ended up dead.
It wasn’t murder; Evan definitely drowned in the lake, only yards from where I’m standing. Libra and Callister were both adamant that they stayed on the shore when something spooked Evan and he ran into the lake of his own accord.
He just never came out.
The security cameras I have on the property back up their story, so the cops didn’t press charges or anything. It was days before they finally found the body, and according to the local rumor mill, there was no evidence of foul play. It seems he simply got in over his head—literally—and never made it back to shore.
But something about the way Libra told me the story made it sound like she had doubts about his death, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the tale, especially since that wasn’t the first drowning to take place out here—though the others were years ago. If there’s something dangerous about this beach, I need to know. I can’t advertise it as a safe, fun place to spend the summer if there’s an underwater sinkhole or something.
Anyway, we’ve all been waiting for the coroner to release an official cause of death. Griffin and I are meeting this afternoon for a late lunch, and I’m going to have to poke at him to get me the report. If it says anything other than “accidental drowning,” we’re in trouble.
Once I finish with the cabins, I make a few final notes and then head back into town for my lunch with the mayor. We’re meeting at the diner, which is another Bishop favorite. Griffin’s sister Aerin owns it, and she keeps family recipes on the menu. It’s the perfect place for comfort food.
The place is classic, with checkered floors, chrome stools with red vinyl seats, and a spinning pie case next to the register. There’s even a jukebox in the corner loaded with golden oldies. The whole restaurant smells like cinnamon, and the neon sign out front invites everyone to come and enjoy the offerings at Knife, Fork, and Swoon.
Griffin’s waiting in a booth when I get there, already sipping on a sweet tea. We order sandwiches, and I show him the footage I took of the cabins.
“It’s going to take a lot. I don’t know if I can get it done by the Fourth,” I say.
“I believe in you,” he says with a grin.
I snort. “That makes one of us.”
He takes a bite of his sandwich, watching me steadily. “Seriously, Haven, this needs to happen. What resources do you need? I’ll help however I can.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” I say with a sigh. “Marlan promised his crew will be out on Wednesday, and I can start ordering décor stuff this evening. I’ll do my best, Griff.”
“I know you will. And given that your best is usually perfect, I’m confident that everything will work out.”
“Why is this so important to you?” I ask.
“Tourism is down and it’s affecting the economy. Without Chad Alder here developing real estate, our town has taken a hit,” Griffin says.
I wrinkle my nose. “Good riddance.”
“I know he wasn’t your favorite. I don’t think he was anyone’s favorite. But he was good at what he did, and his proposals had potential to draw tourists to the area. Without him, we need other plans.”
“Come on, he’s been gone, what? A month? That’s hardly long enough to know whether the town will miss him. And frankly, Chad’s ideas were terrible. I don’t think his absence has anything to do with the drop in tourism. He wanted to fundamentally change what Haven’s Hollow is all about. Instead, we need to lean into it. Play up the lore and the connection to the folk. Put up funny signs, like the ones on the mountain trails. Have town festivals. Bring back traditions, like salting doorways and feeding the water sprites at night.”
Griff takes a thoughtful sip of his iced tea. “That’s an interesting idea.”
“I’m telling you, it will work. Annie is already planning this kind of stuff with Mabon Manor, like honoring Wiccan holidays. I think she’s planning to officially open on Beltane. And Sabine could totally play into it at The Silver Serpent. Offer even more tarot readings and harmless cantrips to tourists. People are into this kind of thing, and if the whole town is sort of infused with it, I think people will come to check it out. Think about it: solstice celebrations, a town Samhain festival, maybe a Yule parade. We could even do Krampus Nacht and a midsummer party. The possibilities are endless. We just need some committees. Well, and for people to start honoring the old ways again. You know that’s become an issue.”
“Those are good ideas,” he says. “I’ll talk to some people. What about treasure hunters? Any thoughts on how to approach that? Do we use the lure of the Lady’s Tear to draw tourists here?”
I shoot him a surprised look. “You know the deal as well as I do: It’s our job to prevent that from happening.”
