Page 41 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

“Prudence,” a voice barked from above, and Kate’s view changed. “Come upstairs now, daughter of mine.”

After another glare at Mr. Kennimore, the girl conformed her expression into contriteness. “Yes, Papa.” Prudence fled upstairs between her and Rory. Automatically, Kate stepped back, as did Rory when the girl moved toward them. They both stepped apart. Their grip disconnected, the scene vanishing from before Kate’s eyes. She found herself breathing hard. Shadows shifted back to dimness, the scene gone as if it had never been there at all. The swinging light slowed to a standstill.

Kate turned wide eyes on Rory. “What was that?”

“Prudence Worthy,” said Rory softly. “She used to sleep in your room on the third floor.”

“What? How can you know that?” Kate rubbed her arms, suddenly aware of the chill here in the depths of her inn. “You said you only had visions in the basement.”

Rory shook her head. “Upstairs, I dream.”

Kate stared at him. “You see the actual past, and you just…you just…you…” She couldn’t wrap her brain around the genuineness of what she’d experienced. How could Rory be so calm? They’d witnessedthe actual past, unfiltered by time.

“Shared it with you. Yes, Kate, I see the past, and I shared it with you.” His expression vulnerable, he clearly expected rejection. She couldn’t do it. Despite how unsettled she was by the whole experience, she couldn’t reject the man who’d given her such an incredible gift, short-lived as it had been. He had opened her eyes into the past of her beloved inn.

Rory left soon after without a word—there simply weren’t any words to quantify the experience. Kate plunked herself down in the drawing room in a heavily padded wingback chair and watched the shifting shadows as the moon rose higher in the sky outside. The cat—the cat that wasn’t there—wandered in while she watched. A shadow of a tail here. The pad of soft paws there, a pounce up onto the sofa, the barest indent in the cushions.

No actual cat made an appearance, only the hint and essence of one, gifting her with the sense of a cat at home in her inn. Kate didn’t even question it. Not now. Past and present existed simultaneously in her inn. She let that settle into her with quiet acceptance.

It wasn’t possible, and yet…

Outside under the streetlight the woman in the Tory Burch ankle boots paced at the edge of the dark park while Kate watched. Illumination spilled onto the swaying trees at the edge of the green, leaves swirling and dropping, autumn in full array.

All at once music flooded into Kate’s mind. The piano beckoned. Leaving her female watcher to her own devices, whatever they were, Kate rose to settle herself at the ivory and ebony keys. With a deep breath filling her lungs, she centered herself and began to play. She didn’t know how long she worked on the sheet music. But it came from within her now. She felt it with all of her being, and she lost herself in its beauty, lilting up then low, fingers flying over the keys.

When her phone chimed, she jerked and had to take a moment to realize it was the ringtone she had set for her father. She removed her hands from the keys and gripped the bench hard before reaching for her phone to answer.

“Katie-girl, I have a job for you.”

Kate bit back her sigh. “I quit, Dad. Remember? I’m an innkeeper now.”

“Course you are,” he said, his tone placating. “This would just be a bit of extra income for you to add to your coffers for fixing up your inn.”

Kate was tempted. She really was. Of course, her father would know that. He always knew how to reel people in—customers, employees, her. It was his way and why he was so successful at what he did. The man could convince anyone of anything. A skill she had learned and later rejected.

She wanted to be genuine, real, true.

Still, it was true that she could use the extra income for her rapidly depleting financial resources. Oh, she was so, so tempted.

“No, Dad. Just no.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Offer stands.” And then he hung up.

And with that, all the emotions he wanted her to feel at the abrupt disconnect flooded into her. Doubt at her decision, longing for the security he dangled before her, a sense that she had better call back and take him up on his offer right away, lest he change his mind.

And that just ticked Kate off.

She knew he did it on purpose. Ending the conversation too soon was a ploy, done to make her run it all through her head over and over and over again, a strategy to make her want what he wanted her to want.

Ugh.

It was all too much: the past, the present, her past, her present, a cat that wasn’t there and yetwas. Kate ran her fingers into her hair and dropped her head into her hands.

Chapter Seventeen

Kate hauled thelast of her pumpkin collection out to decorate her cement walkway. She’d spent the morning at Hopewell Nursery’s local pumpkin patch, choosing and loading and hauling all twenty of them in varying sizes and colors back to the inn. She had spent a full hour arranging them just so, and could only hope on Halloween night that they weren’t used by wayward teens as projectiles and smashed into smithereens in the street.

She had seen that happen often enough in the city, but was hopeful Hazard would be a mite calmer on a night of costuming and trick-or-treaters. She had thought to invite Rory to go to the pumpkin patch with her, but he had been strangely absent. Oh, she knew he’d come back to the inn to sleep, but he was gone before she had come down to make breakfast. Alone, she had drunk her coffee black, along with a simple piece of buttered toast. So much for the pumpkin spice pancakes garnished with whipped cream and pecans that she’d planned. It was no fun to cook something special just for herself.

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