Page 17 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
Stephen cut his eyes at her—a clear supervisory glare meant to shut her up.
Olfactory hallucinations! If Lucky weren’t in pain, she’d be thrilled. “But I don’t justsmellpeppermint.It’s like it’s invading me.”
“What does peppermint mean to you?” Maverick stood behind them with Rebel at his side, both their faces pinched with concern. “If you’re the only one who smells it, then it’s specifically for you.”
“Nothing?” She answered honestly and then realized what he’d said. “Even if it did, how would the house know that?”
“Why don’t we have breakfast?” Chase said loudly. “The kitchen is right there. Let’s just keep moving. Come on. Let’s go.” He waved them forward as if he were directing traffic while deftly continuing to film.
Rebel darted forward, grabbing Lucky’s hand. “Do you want to sit together? My dad is making omelets!” For someone so small, she could double as a mini tow truck. They passed underthe second archway together, entering the familiar kitchen, and the overwhelming scentsation instantly faded.
“Better?” Rebel asked immediately.
“Yes, actually.” She blinked, suddenly feeling perfectly fine, as if the peppermint scent hadn’t nearly incapacitated her entire body. “How did you know that?”
“My dad said the smells don’t travel from room to room unless they’re leading you somewhere.” Rebel waved her down and whispered, “That was supposed to be a secret, but it looked like it was hurting a lot.”
She grinned and whispered back, “I see. Thank you.”
Secrets turned out to be the theme of the morning.
Chase and Georgia set up their cameras on opposite sides of the kitchen to get a full view of…whatever they expected to film. Stephen proclaimed no one was allowed to tell Lucky anything else about Hennessee House untilaftershe’d had her interview with Maverick, which made breakfast a spiritless affair with everyone eating in near silence. He didn’t want anything else to potentially influence her testimonial.
One thing became clear to Lucky.
Okay, two things.
First: Maverick couldcook. Seasoned and sautéed mixed vegetables with buttery cheese wrapped in impeccably fluffy eggs with a side of grilled red potatoes—hands down, the best omelet she’d ever had the pleasure of devouring.
Second: Manufactured or not, the production team decided to commit to the bit. Everyone behaved like Xander had during the interview: wholeheartedly certain of Hennessee House’s activity. This was fantastic for two additional points.
If the house wasn’t haunted, she won—that’d be an automaticplatform to set herself up in opposition to manufactured hauntings. Call her Houdini.
If the house was haunted—all the better. She’d be the one to get to the root of it. And again, an automatic platform to talk about her experience and how she planned to continue, parlaying thirty days of sacrifice into a career.
For the time being, she decided to accept that the olfactory hallucinations hadn’t been a stunt. She couldn’t figure out how no one else had been affected. It’d been so intense, the only way to avoid it involved not breathing, but every single person had spoken at some point.
Post-breakfast, Stephen, Georgia, and Chase resumed their work in the backyard, hoping to film something calledpre-bloom.
Lucky was once again denied context.
Rude.
Before heading back to the library, Maverick made a pit stop, depositing Rebel in the room across the hall. The office was comparable in size to the library, except with fewer bookcases and the addition of a fireplace. A wide desk and stately chair sat front and center facing the door. An antique floor globe, empty glass vases, and oddly shaped lamps were the only other items in the strangely minimalist room.
“You’re in here.” He pulled out the chair for Rebel.
“But, Dad—”
“I don’t wanna hear it. You, right at this desk. Bathroom breaks only.” He set a laptop down in front of her. “Make me a rough cut using your talent show footage. Any style you want. Think you can do that?”
She nodded glumly. “Can’t I work in the library with you?”
“That’s my set. Guess where you’re not allowed?”
“But I said I wassorry.”
“Sorry isn’t some magic word that makes people automatically forgive you. I know you know what you did was wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it behind Georgia’s back. How are they supposed to trust you if that’s how you choose to behave?”
