Page 33 of The Summer Inn on Plum Island
“It says here this fellow was caught with items that disappeared from the Inn during the grand reopening gala after the first major renovation,” Liam read aloud, his voice tinged with curiosity. “They believed he was part of a larger ring but could never prove connections to any others.”
Dawn leaned closer, her interest piqued. “That could mean whoever was behind the original thefts might have passed down methods or even reasons for targeting the Inn. Sort of a twisted heritage.”
“Exactly,” Liam agreed. “And it makes me wonder if the current thefts are somehow linked to those old ones. Maybe someone’s trying to rekindle old legends or settle some old score?”
The thought hung heavily between them, the weight of history palpable in their temporary archive of scattered papers and artifacts.
Liam’s eyes then drifted to the diary open on the coffee table, its pages marked by age. He skimmed the lines written in a neat script, the words echoing the concerns of an era long past yet strangely relevant.
“Listen to this, ‘The shadows grow long, and so too does the list of unexplained misfortunes since the new walls rose. I fear whatwas meant to be a bastion of respite has become a harbor for darker deeds, unseen yet deeply felt.’”
Dawn shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s like they were writing about now.”
With a nod, Liam continued, “It makes you think about the foundations of places, not just the physical ones but the stories built into them. What if the renovations stirred something up, something that never really went away?”
“That’s a chilling thought,” Dawn said, her gaze flitting around the well-lit room as if seeing it in a new light.
Their exploration into the past was interrupted by a knock on the door. Liam stood to answer it, finding Simon, the night manager, balancing a stack of pizza boxes, a bottle of wine, and dessert on a cart.
“Here you go, piping hot,” Simon announced, stepping inside and setting the items on the kitchenette counter. “Anything else you need?”
“We’re good, thanks, Simon,” Liam replied, appreciating the effort. “This is perfect.”
Once Simon had left, Liam and Dawn arranged the food on the coffee table, the savory aroma of pizza filling the suiteand lending a semblance of normalcy to their unconventional evening.
As they ate, the conversation drifted from theories about the thefts to more personal stories. Dawn listened intently as Liam shared his reasoning and excitement about buying the hotel.
“And after everything, taking over the Inn now seems like stepping into a story already in progress,” Liam concluded, wiping his hands on a napkin.
Dawn reached out, touching his arm gently. “But you’ve made the hotel your own, Liam.” She glanced at their research abandoned on the coffee table for their meal. “I get the feeling that whatever is happening now is someone trying to make it seem like something leaked from the past in order to manipulate our future.”
Liam smiled, grateful for her presence and partnership. “I couldn’t have put that better myself,” he agreed.
They continued to sift through the documents, their meal long finished, the wine bottle gradually emptying as they pieced together historical events of the Summer Inn, looking for clues.
As the clock ticked deeper into the night, they laid out a timeline on the floor, marking significant dates and events with notes. The visual representation of their findings painted a compelling picture of cycles repeating through the decades.
“Look at this,” Dawn pointed to a series of entries around the late 1920s. “Every time the Inn changed hands or underwent significant changes, there was a spike in unexplained incidents. It’s like the place itself doesn’t like change.”
Liam considered the pattern. “Or someone uses those periods of upheaval to cover their tracks, taking advantage of the Inn’s storied reputation to add a few ghost stories.”
The night grew late, and their eyes were heavy with the weight of all they had learned. Hicks had long since settled into a comfortable spot on his bed, occasionally lifting his head to watch the two humans puzzling over their mystery. Ritz had slid beneath her furry friend to soak up his warmth.
As Dawn yawned, stretching her arms above her head, Liam stood, gathering the empty plates. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve done a lot of good work here, but we need fresh eyes.”
Dawn nodded, her mind still racing. “You’re right. Let’s get some rest and tackle this again tomorrow.”
Their eyes met a silent agreement passing between them, fortified by the shared thrill of the unknown and the promise of mysteries yet to unravel. Together, they had begun to sift through the pages of history to the soft rustle of paper and the distant call of the ocean waves as if whispering secrets of their own.
Liam had gathered an irate Ritz and was getting ready to leave when Hicks’s head shot up, and he started to growl his head shot around toward Dawn’s locked bedroom door. Liam and Dawn both froze and watched as Hicks rushed to the door and began to bark. It was not ahappy to see youbark, but athere’s someone bad in therebark.
Liam and Dawn glanced at each other before Liam sprung into action. Grabbing a silver candelabra from the side cabinet near the door, he rushed to Dawn’s bedroom door. Unlocking it, Liam had just turned the handle when Hicks knocked the door open and rushed in. As Liam stepped into the room, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the wall slither into the mirror door that led to the secret passage.
He gave his head a shake as Hicks flew at the mirror, but it clicked closed, and he went mad, barking and trying to scratch his way into the mirror.
“What happened?” Dawn rushed into the room, sporting the other candelabra and cradling Ritz in her free arm. “Ritz and I were on our way to defend you.”
“We appreciate that,” Liam told her. “But the wall oozed into the mirror and disappeared.”
