Page 5

Chapter Three

I n person, Silver Hollow was even more charming than it had appeared in the online images Ben had looked up the night before.

Deep forests rose on all sides, seeming to almost embrace the collection of vintage homes and businesses that made up the settlement, and today the sun had broken through the clouds, making everything look bright and shiny, more like something off a Hollywood backlot than a place where real people lived.

But there had been people, of course — moms with strollers taking a constitutional along the main drag, which was accurately but not very originally called Main Street; older couples getting some fresh air as they peeked into shop windows; other cars occupying the road alongside him in his rented CR-V.

The people at the rental car agency had wanted to give him a sedan, but it had just felt better to get an SUV, albeit a small one.

Of course, almost anything was better than the old Nissan truck that waited for him in the long-term parking at Ontario International Airport, so he intended to enjoy the novelty of driving a new car while he was here.

He’d input the address of the bed and breakfast where he was staying into his phone before he left the small regional airport in Arcata, and it guided him flawlessly almost up to the front doorstep.

The inn was housed in an impressive Victorian home painted pale yellow with white and dark green trim, and the roses that bordered the front walk were almost blindingly bright under the rare afternoon sun.

A small parking area had been carved out from the yard off to one side, so he pulled in there and then turned off the engine. One other car occupied those guest spaces, a vintage MG convertible in classic British racing green.

Ben allowed himself a single admiring glance at the vehicle — while he’d never been all that into cars, he could still appreciate a good restoration job — and then went around to the back of the CR-V so he could get out his single weekender bag.

Because he’d thought he would only be spending a few days in San Francisco before heading home, he’d packed fairly light, and he found himself hoping that what he’d brought with him would be enough to last before he returned to Southern California.

Well, at least he’d followed the advice his mother had given him years earlier when he first went off to college, and had packed some extra underwear and socks.

He mounted the porch steps. Next to the front door was a hand-painted sign that said, “Please come in,” so he supposed he didn’t need to knock.

Instead, he opened the door and let himself into a grand foyer, fully two stories tall, with a magnificent staircase directly across from the entrance and a stained glass window above the landing that let in filtered light in warm shades of green and yellow.

That same palette was echoed in the Persian rug under his feet and the warm, buttery shades on the walls.

A bell hung from the inside of the door and jingled faintly as he entered the space. Almost at once, an older woman, probably in her early seventies, emerged from a small room off to his left that he guessed was the B&B’s office.

“Mr. Sanders?” she asked, her voice crisp and friendly at the same time, and he nodded.

“It’s just Ben,” he responded. In some situations, he might have tried to correct her and say that it was actually “Dr. Sanders,” but he got the feeling that the woman who now crossed the foyer to the antique table in the center of the space wouldn’t have much patience for that sort of thing.

Despite her white hair and the deep lines around her eyes and bracketing her mouth, she carried herself like someone at least a decade younger, and he guessed she would make short work of anyone who tried to put on airs.

“Ben, then,” she said, still brisk and businesslike. “I’m Mabel Whitaker. Welcome to the Silver Hollow Inn. I have you booked for two nights, correct?”

“That’s right,” he replied, then paused, performing a quick mental calculation as to how many additional nights he might be able to afford. “But it’s possible I might need to stay longer.”

She opened the ledger that lay on the table — clearly, she used it as a desk — and flipped through a couple of pages.

“Your room isn’t booked again until a week from Wednesday, so I should be able to accommodate you with no problem.

If your visit stretches past that day, then I’ll have to move you to another spot. ”

Ben couldn’t imagine spending more than a week here. Then again, twenty-four hours ago, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine standing in the lobby of a Victorian bed-and-breakfast in a small town in Humboldt County, either, so he figured he should probably leave his options open.

“If that happens, it won’t be a problem,” he said. “Really, I’m just glad you had any space for me at all.”

Her blue eyes twinkled at him. “Well, it’s not the high season yet. Otherwise, you probably would have had to stay at the motel on the other side of town.”

Just the faintest hint of disdain entered her tone as she mentioned the place. Was it really that bad, or did she simply have a low opinion of any establishment that might funnel some business away from her?

Since he didn’t know the woman, Ben couldn’t begin to guess. Still, it was good to know he had an alternate just in case staying here at the Silver Hollow Inn started to impact his bank account a bit too much.

“Then I’m glad I got here before the rush,” he said lightly.

The corners of Mabel’s mouth lifted the slightest bit. “Breakfast is from seven-thirty to nine,” she said, obviously deciding it was time to get down to business. “I also put out light refreshments at four, but you’ll be on your own for lunch and dinner.”

Something he’d already expected — and looked forward to. The more people he encountered in town, the better the chance that he might be able to glean some useful information from one of them.

He nodded, then said, “I saw online that you have an outdoor shop here in Silver Hollow. Would I be able to buy whatever I need there so I can do some exploring in the woods?”

Maybe one of Mabel’s eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch. “I would expect so,” she replied. “Did you suddenly decide to go hiking?”

And her gaze moved to the lace-ups he wore with his jeans and blazer, as though she couldn’t understand why someone would come to a place like Silver Hollow, which was noted for its wilderness trails, without adequately preparing first.

Well, he had gone off sort of half-cocked, and he supposed it couldn’t hurt to give her a carefully edited version of his story.

“I hadn’t planned to come here at all,” he said.

“I was attending a conference in San Francisco, and I met someone there who told me about Silver Hollow. Since I was already halfway here — I’m from Southern California — I figured I’d just extend my trip and visit a part of the world I’d never seen before. So here I am.”

If Mabel thought any of this sounded suspicious, she didn’t give much sign of it. No, she only nodded before replying, “I suppose I can understand that. In that case, I’m sure our store will be able to supply you with hiking boots and anything else you might need.”

For just a moment, her gaze slipped toward his shoes again, which he’d polished just before he left for San Francisco.

They definitely weren’t the sort of thing that would get very far on a trail, even an easy one.

“That’s great,” he said. “Then I suppose I’ll get settled in.”

“Of course. Your room is on the second floor — do you need me to show you the way?”

Ben assured her that he could find it on his own, and he shouldered his weekender bag and made his way up the magnificent mahogany staircase.

Although his field of study had centered on ancient indigenous American ruins and not old houses, he still loved it when he came across an original structure like this one.

So much of the state’s heritage had been knocked down to make way for shopping centers and tract homes, and the ones that had survived, like this beautiful Victorian, needed to be treated with the proper respect.

Everything he saw around him seemed to show that Mabel — or whoever had been responsible for the bed-and-breakfast’s appearance — had tastefully updated the place while still making sure to keep its period feel intact.

Maybe back in the day, wallpaper had predominated rather than the warm colors now displayed on its walls, but no one had come along and painted the rich woodwork white, or indulged in the shades of gray that seemed to have dominated interior design for the past decade.

His room wasn’t large, but he was glad to see that it had been remodeled to include an en suite bathroom. Secretly, he’d been a little worried that he’d have to go down the hall to use the bath and share it with the other residents on this floor.

That wasn’t the case, though, and he felt almost lighthearted as he hung up his clothes in the oversized wardrobe on one side of the room and put his bag of toiletries on the vanity in the bathroom.

It looked as if someone had repurposed an old dresser to accommodate the sink, and it went well with the rest of the room.

He wasn’t here to study interior design, though.

No, he was here to do his best to discover whether anything a little more interesting than deer and foxes and rabbits populated the woods outside town.

His flight had left SFO at a quarter after ten, and he’d gotten to Silver Hollow just a bit before one. Now it was almost one-thirty, but he thought the hour was still early enough that he shouldn’t have a problem getting a bite to eat in town.

After all, Mabel had told him he was on his own for lunch and dinner.