Should’ve known better. There were lots of bed-and-breakfasts and guest ranches dotting the Hill Country. Wanda had tried to set hers apart with its theme. Her place served as sort of a museum for Hill Country folklore and ghost stories. Each guest room was based on some local legend.
For instance, Lorelei’s room, from the comforter printed with running wolves to the hand-carved figures on the wooden vanity, centered on the wolf spirit that “haunted” nearby Devil’s Backbone, an area also rumored to host the apparitions of monks, Native Americans and Confederate soldiers. Sam’s suite was based on the famed Faust Hotel, a historic haunted site, and Wanda had decorated it based on old photos she’d seen of the establishment. The only creepy room was the one based on a cave, in which Wanda had blacked out the windows and bat noises played periodically through a hidden speaker. In addition to the themed decorating, Wanda had also arranged tours that took visitors through the region from one “unexplained phenomenon” to another. And Wanda had always been a hell of a storyteller, probably because she believed the outlandish tales she shared.
“She’ll be missed,” one of the scheduled guests had told Lorelei, choked up by the news that the inn’s proprietor had died. “My husband and I came to the Haunted Hill Country every year for our anniversary, and we just loved Wanda. Your mother was a special woman.”
Ava came toward her with two cups of coffee. “You look like you could use some.” Then she reached into a cabinet beneath the counter and procured a bottle of whiskey. “And maybe a shot of this with it.”
Lorelei gave a dry laugh. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she appreciated the thought. “Thanks, Ava.”
“Least I can do.” Ava slid her glasses up on her nose with a finger. “I wish you had let me help with those calls. You didn’t have to take care of them alone. Can’t be easy to tell people over and over that your mama’s gone.”
“I wanted to.” Saying it forced her to accept it. Running from the truth wouldn’t change it. “I needed to be doing something, keeping busy.”
Ava cast a sheepish look over her shoulder, at the crammed full refrigerator. “Guess I can understand that.”
Lorelei poured a modest token shot into her coffee and raised her eyebrows questioningly at Ava, who nodded and pushed her own mug across the counter.
“Hit me, barkeep.” Ava waited for her own more generous slug, then stirred cream into both mugs with a cinnamon stick.
Lorelei inhaled deeply. Her mug smelled like heaven. “Ava, can I ask you a…delicate question?”
The older woman nodded, her faded grey eyes earnest. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other in the years since you got your degree, but Wanda was the closest thing I ever had to a sister. I’d be honored if you thought of me as kin.”
“Was there something romantic going on between Mom and Sam Travis?”
Ava spluttered, choking on coffee.
“Sorry.” Lorelei handed her a couple of napkins, feeling guilty as Ava continued to cough.
“What a thing to suggest!” Ava finally managed to say, cream dotting her upper lip. “Of course there wasn’t anything romantic. Thank God you asked me and not Sam. He’d be horrified.”
Lorelei’s face grew hot. Now that she’d voiced the question, it did sound absurd—especially given how devoted Wanda had remained to her late husband. “Well, I didn’t think so, but I wanted to be sure. It’s not like she was always conventional with her beliefs, so she might have overlooked the age difference. He was cryptic and grudging. All he told me was that they were ‘good friends.’ But he’d obviously talked to her right before she went to sleep and he was the one who found her in her bed.”
Had Sam Travis been the person to hear her mother’s final words?
Lorelei couldn’t help flinching, recalling her mom’s last words the last time they’d spoken. I’ll be here. The mug trembled in Lorelei’s hands. She’d taken for granted that her mother would, indeed, always be here.
She cleared her throat. “The biggest reason I wondered about their relationship is because of you.”
“Me?” Ava squeaked.
“Well, you didn’t mention him to me when we spoke on the phone and you said all the guests had gone.” A heads-up that someone else was going to be under the same roof with her would have been nice. “But every time he’s come up in conversation this afternoon, you’ve…”
Ava turned away, busying herself with a rag and wiping down the long expanse of already clean counter.
“You’re acting weird about Sam.” Almost guilty, which had made Lorelei speculate that maybe Ava harbored a secret about her mom and the cowboy. Something was clearly bothering Ava.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Lorelei prodded.
“Only that it’s wonderful to see you again.” Ava put the rag down and smiled sadly. “I just wish you could have come home before this.” There was no accusation in her voice, but that made it even worse somehow.
Lorelei was tempted to agree with Ava, to say I wish I had, too, but Lorelei had given up wishing a long time ago. When her dad died, she’d wised up—no wishing wells or “first star I see tonight” or fairy stories for her. Those were all just pretty guises for denial. Lorelei needed to live in cold, hard reality. And that meant she knew what to do with the inn.
She’d sell the property and use the money to help with her staggering college loans. Wanda would approve. Her mother had been proud that Lorelei got into such a prestigious school and she’d always fretted that she couldn’t do more to take care of her daughter from so far away. The woman who’d once given her crystals and dream catchers for protection would be assisting in protection from debt, a far more useful security. It was something tangible and parental Wanda could do for her, which made Lorelei feel, for a moment, closer to the mother she’d lost.
Lorelei bit her lip, wondering if she should tell Ava what she intended to do. But it seemed cruel just now, with the inn being the most visible reminder of Wanda. Lorelei didn’t want the kind-hearted woman to feel as if she was losing her friend twice in one week. I’ll tell her after the memorial service Saturday.
With the decision made to sell, Lorelei felt as if she could breathe easier. As an adolescent, grieving for her father, she’d hoped that they could move away, start fresh somewhere his memory wasn’t so potent. At the very least, she’d wanted Wanda to date, to set the example that it wasn’t a betrayal to move on with life. Instead, Wanda had continued to talk about him as if he were a member of their household. On holidays and special occasions, she set a place for him at the table. She talked about having spirit conversations with him in her dreams and seeing his ghost in his favorite recliner. The lack of closure had ripped at Lorelei.
Not this time. After the service and the will-reading, when she officially inherited the inn, she’d call the would-be guests in her mom’s files and break the news to them. She’d sell the B and B to someone who could create their own niche here, and she’d return to her life in Philly, her ties to Fredericksburg severed. Lorelei would have the closure she so desperately needed.
SITTING IN THE MIDDLE of a semi-circle of pictures, Lorelei debated opening a window. It’s stuffy in here. Given the high ceiling of the great room and the dropping evening temperatures, she knew the stifling sensation