Page 26 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

Seymour swung open the door and glared at his grandson. “I locked it, so you couldn’t get in.”

This was a revelation. “You don’t want me here? I know you arranged for me to sleep somewhere else, but I thought I would still be welcome to come visit you during the day.”

“Don’t want you sneaking around, as fun as you might find that. You kids. Always gotta snoop where you don’t belong.”

Rory was trying to process his granddad’s hostile behavior when his next words explained it all. “I have cameras, boy. I’m not an idiot.”

“Cameras? Monitoring the basement?” His voice rose in disbelief. “Were you worried I’d get into your alcohol? I am of age, you know.”

Seymour waved a hand in the air and scoffed. “Of the tunnels, boyo. I get an alert if anyone enters.”

“So you know…”

“About the tunnels? About you and the new innkeeper traipsing around, snuggled up and cozy down there? Well, of course, I know.”

Rory decided to ignore his granddad’s description of his interaction with Kate in the tunnels. She’d been scared, that’s all, which was why she’d been pressed up against him. Not that he’d minded. He’d been glad to be…of comfort to her. It had felt good to have her pressed…Rory coughed to redirect his thoughts…to be able to provide her some reassurance.

“So you know about the entrance to the inn?” Rory pressed. His granddad wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Seymour huffed.

“You knew the inn connected to the tunnel but haven’t told the new owner?” His voice rose in disbelief.

Seymour shook his head, white hair flopping. “It’s a secret, boy.”

“Shame on you.”

Seymour harrumphed. “We were getting around to it. We needed to be certain she could be trusted.”

“We?”

But Seymour was already hustling away, and Rory suspected he would not be getting an answer to that question any time soon. Maybe not ever. His granddad could be remarkably closed-lipped. Who exactly knew about the tunnels? And, really, what was the big deal with letting Rory in on it? Why did his grandfather make him ferret out every little detail himself?

“You could just tell me what’s going on.”

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” Seymour grumbled, as they passed through the beautifully restored mansion. They rode up in a newly installed elevator. Huffing a little from even that exertion, Seymour flopped into an overstuffed section of the new sofa and reclined, easing the section back. “That’s better.”

Rory frowned and sat. “So, you have cameras.”

“Yes, we’re very careful, and yes, Kate Mayfield needs to be informed. We didn’t know her entrance was still open, or Marjorie would have insisted we talk to her before.”

“So, Marjorie knows?”

“We all know. Me, Marjorie, Lydia, and Hazel. But we can’t share that information with just anyone. It wouldn’t be responsible. We only share on a need-to-know basis. It was always that way. The Patriot tunnel was used in the Revolutionary War for smuggling.”

It was a fitting name for the tunnel, with all its history behind it. Rory gave a brief nod. “I know.”

Seymour raised a brow, “Oh? How exactly?”

Rory shrugged a shoulder to annoy his granddad.

Seymour peered at him through his spectacles. “Because of your vision.”

Rory supposed that was as good a word for it as any. When he was first rescued from the basement disaster, he had tried to explain what happened to him. No one believed he’d seen the past. It had been hugely frustrating. But apparently, Seymour had believed, and that raised more questions.

Rory leaned forward, this time to peer back at Seymour, who suddenly shifted in discomfort and made himself busy looking everywhere but at Rory. “Why do you believe in my visions? Do you have visions?”

“Me?” Seymour scoffed. “No, never. But my Margot, she did. Her family were early settlers to the area before they fell on hard times and moved over to Middleton. They sold their property in 1920, and my great-grandfather bought it all up cheap, all except for the inn.”

---