Salem's Daughters (14 page)

Chapter 19              Help is on the Way

Within a few hours all ten rooms were filled. A total of thirteen kids were running around Murcat Manor and terrorizing the cats. One cat for each kid, Bob thought, and then considered stuffing a feline in each of their suitcases while carrying their luggage out to their cars when they left—the guests wouldn’t know it until they arrived home.

Bob stepped into the vastness of their kitchen, which doubled as their work space where he and Debbie spent most of their time. As a youth, Bob envisioned having a home office complete with a fireplace and mahogany walls lined with bookshelves.

But within one generation, times had changed. Now, laptops and a flat surface to place their electronic workstations replaced the need for what he now considered a ridiculous and pompous vision.

Bob sat his laptop on the kitchen table and plugged the AC adaptor into the wall. He looked with amazement at his wife. He wondered if she knew he’d entered the kitchen.

Debbie was in a world unto herself, hard at work, preparing the very first dinner for a full house of guests. Bob could smell the unmistakable aroma of pot roast and roasted vegetables as it filled the kitchen. He pictured pulling the meat apart with his fork and savoring the taste of the first fruits of Murcat Manor’s opening weekend.

“Finally. A few minutes alone.” He wiped his brow as he looked at food cooking on all three stoves and ovens. “I’m beat. That was a lot of work, hauling their luggage from the parking lot up to their rooms. There must have been close to a hundred pieces. And yesterday, I spent the entire day mowing the lawn. I still have a list of twenty things I need to do. This is more work than I thought it would be.”

Debbie chopped vegetables on a cutting board. She struggled as her hand was still not healed where she sliced her palm the day DeShawn Hill died.

“I’ve been thinking about that. We need to hire full time help. I’m thinking two people, at least for the summer.”

Bob rose and slipped his hands around Debbie’s waist. “You need help in the kitchen. I need a helper with the luggage and for maintenance. It's only the first day and those unruly triplets have broken just about everything they've touched. Let's face it. I'm not the best at fixing things."

Debbie turned and wrapped her arms around Bob’s neck. “At least the place is packed. I thought for sure the death of Mr. Hill would ruin us before we had a chance to start. The local news channels were all over that.”

Bob reached around her and snatched a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. “It was a slow summer,” he said, tossing it in his mouth. “I guess we were the only thing happening. They kept coming out for follow up stories. I was scared too. But the extra coverage helped us book out rooms well into the fall and much of December.”

Debbie slapped away Bob’s hand as he reached in for a second treat. “The positive reviews and write ups in the Battle Creek and Kalamazoo newspapers and a few online sites and blogs helped too. They focused on the themes of the ten rooms rather than Hill’s death.”

Bob moved on to one of the refrigerators. “I think we’ll be okay, as long as Detectives Darrowby and his goon sidekick Kowalski stay away.”

“Darrowby scares me. Why hasn’t he closed this case? It should be a simple but freak accident. Although he’s not calling this a homicide, he sure seems to be treating it like one.”

Bob sniffed the air. “Something’s burning.”

Debbie rushed back and forth from stove to stove, juggling pots and pans of food, then zeroing in on a sauce pan she had neglected.

“No worries. I can make another batch,” she said as she scraped the ingredients into the garbage disposal and ran the pan under the water faucet. “It’ll just take a few minutes.”

“You’re amazing. You know that?”

Debbie used her apron to wipe her brow. “What? You’re only now noticing? I’m telling Grandma.”

Bob laughed harder than he had in days. “Thanks. I needed that. Still, you do need help running this place and so do I.”

“So you concede? We’ll hire a handy man slash bell boy slash cook slash cleaning person?”

Bob didn’t need to consider. “Yeah. We can afford one. Actually two. One for you and one for me. I’m not up for trying to be a handyman. Not in my genes.”

Debbie ran over to the next stove and looked over her shoulder at Bob. “Like that toilet Eugene Barnett clogged in the Roadhouse Blues?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Bob sat at the table and opened his laptop. “That’s motivation enough to put an ad on Craigslist right away.”

“Well, for now, let’s enjoy the success of a full house.”

“You got that right.” Bob discretely reached over the table and snatched a blueberry muffin from a tin cooling under a kitchen towel.

“Maybe we can plan on an addition for next summer? Add a few more quest rooms. We could add two additional rooms downstairs for the full-time help so they can be here around the clock. What do you think?”

“With the money we’re making, I don’t see why not.”

“When you’re finished with the muffin, “Debbie said with a grin Bob did not expect, “please set the table. The first shift of five families will eat in thirty minutes. That’s ten adults and seven children.”

“Are the Barnetts and their triplets part of the first group?”

“Afraid so. Let’s hope Eugene doesn’t eat his worth in weight. Or you’ll be plunging the toilet in The Roadhouse Blues again tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, we definitely need help.” Bob finished writing his ad for two full time summer helpers on Craigslist. He hit the Enter key with gusto. “With any luck, we’ll hire someone before good ol’ Eugene leaves.”

Chapter 20              One Less Cat

It was Monday morning, the last day of Memorial Weekend. Bob’s alarm on his cell phone played a recording of a rooster crowing. Without opening his eyes, he reached over to the night stand and turned it off.

He plopped his head back on his pillow, still exhausted, then opened his eyes and stared out the bedroom window. The morning sun would break over the eastern horizon in less than an hour.

Every muscle in his body ached. To his left, Debbie breathed in a soft cadence. She had failed to heed the belligerent barnyard fowl.

Bob knew Debbie worked harder than he had, and wanted nothing more than to let her sleep. Five o’clock in the morning. He shook his head. They had gotten less than four hours rest.

Their work was far from over. Debbie’s focus was on keeping the kitchen clean and organized. Her injured hand prevented her from doing half of what she was capable of accomplishing.

There would be a turnover of guests today. That meant changing the sheets and towels from all ten guest rooms, then washing the dirty laundry, drying, folding, and putting them away in the upstairs pantry. Luggage to carry out to the departing cars. More luggage to bring in from the new arrivals. A breakfast and a dinner to cook and the cleanup that followed.

Bob shook Debbie. She muffled a snort as she woke. “What time is it?”

“Five in the morning.”

“So much to do,” she mumbled as she pulled off the covers, a half dozen sleeping cats jumping to the floor then making their way to the cat beds lining the wall. “Ugh. I haven’t even stood up and I need a day off.”

Bob never imagined how hard and strenuous it would be to run a bed and breakfast. They both got out of bed, backs sore, shoulders hunched. “All I want to do is watch the last of our guests leave, then take a long nap.”

Debbie looked in the mirror and stuck out her tongue. “Blech. I look awful,” she said as she tried to fix her shoulder length blonde bob with her fingers.

Bob wrapped his arms around her slender waist. He grinned at Debbie in the mirror. “You look pretty darn good from where I stand.”

Debbie turned. “Thanks, lover boy. Tempting. But I have work to do. The afternoon will bring new guests. All ten rooms will be filled again. And I’ll have to cook what the newspapers, websites, and blogs promised will be my biggest and grandest meal; a turkey dinner that will rival Cornwell’s Turkeyville.”

Debbie let out a flap of air through her lips. Bob tried not to cringe at her morning breath. He smiled weakly, but didn’t think he was convincing.

“What in the heck was I thinking, letting them write that? I sorely regret that now. How’s the ad in Craigslist coming?”

“I’ve gotten a few responses and set up interviews beginning this afternoon. The first is Raymond Hettinger. He’s twenty-seven years old and a local handyman. Claims he can fix anything. Second is Maria Gonzalez who would help you. She’s twenty-two and a medical student at Western Michigan University looking for a summer job. At this rate, I’ll probably hire them out of necessity before the day is over.”

“At least the Barnetts will be gone. Hopefully their toilet isn’t blown apart.”

Bob helped Debbie make breakfast for both shifts. But time flew by too fast and the guests needed their luggage brought down to their cars. The dishes, piled high and dirty in the sinks, would have to wait.

Bob and Debbie donned their best smiles and hoped they didn’t look as bad as they felt. One by one the guests left. He did feel good there were no complaints. The weekend, as demanding as it was, had been a tremendous success.

Bob shook the hands of a couple leaving for home in nearby Battle Creek. “Thank you again for visiting Murcat Manor.”

“I hope to see you back again soon,” Debbie said with a genuine smile. “Check our website for available listings. We’re open all year.”

“Thank you,” the wife beamed. “I can’t tell you how much this weekend away from the kids has helped us. We really needed this three day weekend alone.”

Debbie nudged Bob and grinned.

Bob wasn’t merely happy with the money coming in. He was thankful he and Debbie were able to make people happy. Couples getting away from a stressful life were taking a weekend to reconnect. He saw this venture in a new light. It wasn’t just himself benefiting. He was helping make a difference in other people’s lives.

Another couple stepped off the porch and into the driveway. Patrick and Marian Allen was it? A young man and woman on their honeymoon. They stayed in their room the entire three days, emerging only to eat.

“The Love Machine was amazing,” Patrick said, his wife hugging his waist tight and smiling brightly. “We’ll have to book this room again soon.”

“We’d love to have you back,” Debbie said. “Check our website for available days.”

Bob noticed a handful of cats emerge, now that the Barnetts and their red headed triplets of terror had finally left. He’d wondered if the cats might have run off the property, never to return. Instead, the felines huddled and purred around his legs.

“Oh, isn’t that just darling,” Marian said. “These cats love you so much.”

Bob’s eyes revolved in a three-sixty.

She bent over and picked one up, uncurling it off Bob’s lower leg. “Oh, this one is just such a cutie. I’m instantly in love.” She looked to her husband. “Can we keep it?”

Patrick Allen saw the pleasure in his wife’s face as she hugged the cat and wasted no time. “Say Bob, just how many cats do you have?”

“Too many, trust me.”

Marian held Rebecca tight as the cat tried in vain to escape. “Wow. This one sure is warm to the touch. It’s almost like she’s on fire on the inside. I guess that means extra loving. Oh, she’s so adorable.”

She looked at Bob with a pouty face, her lower lip sticking out. “Can we have him? Please?”

Before Debbie could say no, Bob blurted out, “Yes. Of course you can. And it’s a her. Take her home with you. Please.”

“Oh, thank you very much. We don’t have kids yet, although we sure put in the effort this weekend to get a running start.”

She looked at the collar charm. “Rebecca. I like that. I have a niece named Rebecca. I think she’ll work out just fine.”

“Don’t forget to have her spayed,” Bob said. “You don’t want thirteen cats like we have.”

As Bob said this, his head started to feel hot. He thought the cat glared at him. There were brief thoughts of revenge. For the first time in his life, Bob thought of seeking retribution for any and all frustrations on someone else. But the quick thinker he was, Bob realized this wasn’t his revenge. It was someone else’s. Rebecca locked eyes with Bob and hissed loud.

But that of course was nonsense. Rebecca was just a cat. Bob shook his head clear and waved to the Allens as they got in their car. “Thank you. Hope to see you again. Without the cat.”

Chapter 21              Burning Down The House

Emily lay on the one of the two couches in the living room, soaking up the sun’s rays beaming through the bay windows. Annie and Jacqueline took up the other cushions. Through her droopy eyes she saw the other cats lying together in their usual groups on various pieces of furniture.

Scarlett, Angel, and Esther each took a cushion on the second sofa facing the fireplace. Isabella, Rachel, and Madelyn commandeered three of the oversized sitting chairs.  Chloe, Midnight, and Helen found a place on the ottomans.

Emily dozed off into what she hoped would be a peaceful slumber. Minutes into her morning nap she faded back four hundred years into the dark forests on the outskirts of Boston. It was midnight. She was gasping for air. Her legs ached as she ran faster than she ever could imagine.

Sarah, where are you?

“Emily, wake up.”

The ground rumbled as three raging demons rode dragon-like beasts and descended upon her. There was nowhere to hide. To her left and to her right, her friends were cut down by the terrifying monsters.

Sarah, please run harder.

“Emily, open your eyes. Now.”

Up ahead was their city of refuge. She had to make it. But she sensed her impending death. A hatchet hurling through the air end over end. Her beloved sister pushing her out of the way. Sarah’s eyes frozen wide open as she joined her fallen kindred in the muddied trail.

“Emily
.”

The voice echoed in her head. Emily awoke with a snap.

“You were having another nightmare,” Midnight said.

The other cats, minus her best friend Rebecca, lifted their sleepy heads and glared at her.

“I’m sorry,” her cousin Chloe said as she jumped up on the sofa and joined her. “I know you miss your sister, and my cousin, Sarah. But you need to understand it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could to save her. It’s been four hundred years. Time to move on from that evening. The rest of us have.”

Emily took a long, strenuous stretch. “I know. I’m trying. And thanks for waking me up. I just don’t know what else to do. That night haunts my sleep.”

“Nothing a little mischief won’t cure,” Midnight said. “Come on, let’s find some trouble to get into. Remember the last time we burned this place to the ground? Rebecca was standing right about here when she started the first fire. She blocked the front door with a tremendous blaze so no one could escape. Helen locked all the windows and the back door. We can do it again.”

Midnight stood in the center of the living room floor and started walking in a circle. She mimicked Rebecca and gradually picked up her speed until she was in a steady trot.

“This is how Rebecca did her thing. Just like in the barn in Boston. And the Turner house. And the Amish property before that. She’d run around in a circle until a fire started in the center, then she’d project the flames up and out to start multiple fires and blocking the exits.”

“No,” Emily fired back. “Absolutely not. Stop right now. We need to keep a low profile here. Good ol’ boring Bob and this bed and breakfast is the perfect setting for us.”

“How about the neighbors,” Scarlett countered. “We can perform our craft at night.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” Isabella said. “They’ll never know what happened.”

The other cats nodded in agreement.

“Rebecca’s not here,” Emily said. “We can’t start any fires.”

“I can cause inanimate objects with dormant energy to explode,” Esther said. “Bet I can start a fire. I’ll focus on a car’s gas tank. How about the Brady family next door? The kids now live there. I bet they’re pompous jerks as their parents were fifty years ago.”

“What about the new hired help,” Midnight said. “Raymond and Maria. Bob just hired them. It’s their first day. Those two have no idea what they just walked into. I say let’s kill them.”

“No. Just stop it, okay? No more trouble. No more mischief. No more fires. And no more murders.”

The silence from the cats gave way to laughter from the kitchen. Debbie was serving the second shift breakfast. Five families. Ten adults. Three children.

“I really hate kids now,” Jacqueline said as she walked to the large arch that led to the kitchen and peered in.

“The Barnett triplets were the worse,” Chloe said. “The ones here aren’t so bad. But that freckled faced girl at the end of the table pulled my tail again last night. I almost lost it levitated her right out her second story bedroom window.”

“I considered speeding up the s
ynaptic transmissions
in her brain receptors to the point she’d take in every piece of information her five senses detected.” Annie said. “Give the little brat a case of sensory overload that would drive her and her parents crazy.”

“Wow. Look at you,” Helen said. “You sound like a college professor.”

“We can thank Madelyn for that,” Annie said. “She’s the one researching and teaching us the latest and greatest in the scientific and medical fields. We’re learning how to better understand our powers and use them far more efficiently.”

“She’s helped explain what I can do,” Rachel said. “I’ve never understood how I can leave my body and travel around.”

“Now we know,” Madelyn said. “The term is astral projection. Some call it an out of body experience. As long as you leave your physical body in a safe place where people won’t find it and think you’re dead, you’ll always have a place to come back to. Remember during our fourth life when you separated and the Amish family found your body and buried it in the backyard?”

Rachel shuddered at the thought. “Sure do. With no way to get back, I floated off to the Netherworld. I had to wait for you all to join me until we could come back in our fifth lives at the Turner place.”

“Too bad Rebecca’s not here,” Scarlett said. “She could catch that kid’s pony tails on fire.”

“I can short circuit the thoughts of that brother and sister,” Helen said. “Make them think they’re each other. And if we see those Barnett triplets here again, I’ll rewire their brains so every month they’ll think they’re one of the other brothers. Their parents will never be able to tell which one is which ever again.”

“We all know we can’t do things like that,” Emily said. “And thanks to all of you for showing constraint. We’ll just have to do our best to stay out of the way of children.”

Chloe started to nod off. “Okay,
Mom
.”

“Maybe we need lookouts while the rest of us sleep,” Annie said. “Like a sentry.”

“Great idea,” Chloe said through a yawn. “I second that motion.”

“And since you mentioned it,” Esther said, laying her sleepy head on her folded paws. “You get the first shift. All in favor?”

The remaining cats all said, “Aye,” in unison.

“Fine,” Annie said as she stood and stretched. She walked over to the large arched door leading into the kitchen. “Those kids are such brats. Isabella, maybe you could implant a thought in the parents’ minds to smack some sense into them.”

“Better yet,” Scarlett said. “Plant the thought into one of the adults to slap another person’s kid. That’ll start a fight between families at the table.”

“Great idea. I can do that.”

“
Isabella
?” Emily glared at her. “Don’t you dare.”

“But it’s so boring here. There’s no excitement, unless you count the kids chasing us and pulling our tails.”

Emily knew she needed a diversion. “Madelyn, the Battle Creek newspaper is on the coffee table. Anything interesting on the front page?”

Madelyn jumped up on the low table in front of the couch. Emily saw her gasp.

“What is it?”

The cat used her paw to read back and forth and down the column of the lead story. “You won’t believe this. Remember the couple who took Rebecca home with them?”

Emily knew this could not be good. She joined Madelyn, who pointed at a large picture of the remnants of a house, still smoldering from a fire.

“Damn it. Rebecca’s at it again.”

The other cats jumped up on the table and gathered around the newspaper. Front and center was a picture of Patrick and Marian Allen.

“Madelyn, what’s the story say? You’re the only one that can read worth a darn.”

“A young couple from Battle Creek died yesterday while they slept when their house caught on fire. By the time fire trucks arrived, the entire structure was engulfed in flames. The cause of the fire is under investigation.”

Emily shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Out of all the cats the Allens could have chosen, they had to take Rebecca. She has the shortest temper. And of course, she can start a fire a dozen ways.”

“What did you expect?” Midnight said.

“I expect everyone to follow my orders.”

“Well, maybe you should broaden your horizons. The rest of us are getting real tired restraining what comes natural to us. Of course, living inside a cat’s body helps take on their personality traits as well. And there’s nothing we can do about that. We’re trapped inside cats, Emily. Do you understand? You need to. Otherwise, you may soon have a mutiny on your hands.”