Page 65 of The Haunted Hotel
He shakes his head. “There were always other people around, guests, and I don’t much like strangers. I’m too old to be bothered with being civil to people.”
“Why make it a hotel then?” I ask curiously.
“My older brother inherited the house, but he was a consummate gambler and a drunk on top of it. He lost every last penny of the family fortune, which wasn’t that plentiful to start with. Our bloodline seems to have an inordinate amount of scoundrels, drunks, and gamblers. They’ve always been good at marrying into money and lousy at keeping it or their marriage vows. Clifford spent every last penny and took out several loans. Then, rather than face the consequences of his choices, he ended up with the easy way out. Heart attack in his sleep, leaving me to clean up his mess as usual. We barely managed. We were just scraping by when you came along.”
“So you decided to open the house as a hotel?” I guessed.
“Actually, it was your father’s idea,” he replies. “Elliott thought it was the perfect solution. We poured every last penny we had into the place to pay for the renovations. Elliott wasgoing to manage the hotel while I cared for your grandmother, who was very poorly by then. She had MS and it had worsened. Then she died and everything snowballed from there. The work had been done to the house, but we had to delay opening as a hotel while we paid for the funeral and dealt with our grief. Then Elliott…” He trails off and breathes heavily.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say to him.
“I was in no fit state to run a hotel, but I’d already committed and all the money was tied up in it. Aggie, who was already the cook here and had been for years, had a cousin who ran a hotel in Strathclyde. He agreed to come and stay for a few months while his wife ran their hotel. He came in and interviewed staff, trained them, got a manager in place, and I left them all to it.”
“You left them to it?” I parrot.
“In the beginning, they’d report back to me, but as the years went on, I was less and less involved. In the last couple of years, I’ve left Ellis and Rosie to do everything as we can’t seem to get and keep decent managers. Then again, we can’t exactly pay a competitive wage, so we tend to end up with the dregs of the employment pool anyway. I should just promote Ellis. He’d probably do a better job than all of them, and he loves this place.”
“I noticed.” I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips, and my grandfather’s eyes sharpen in interest.
“You like fellas, then?” he asks rather bluntly. “Ellis does. You sniffing around him?”
“What a charming phrase,” I say stiffly.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” He huffs out a husky laugh. “I was only asking. I’m too old to tiptoe around people; if I want to know, I’ll ask. I don’t mean any offence by it. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“I’m gay, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.” Carefully omitting the fact that I am, in fact, sniffing around his favourite employee. Although I’m now starting to realise Ellis is a lot more to him than just an employee.
“Hmm,” he grunts. “You want some dinner?”
I glance down at my watch and realise how late it is, then look back at my grandfather and the olive branch he’s offering. “I’d love to have dinner with you. Will you come down to the dining room with me?”
“No need.” He shakes his head and picks up the receiver of an old-fashioned black phone mounted on the wall.
Jesus, last time I saw something like that, I was being tortured with watchingCasablancabecause Aunt Sylvie insisted it was a classic.
I watch as Grandad dials a couple of numbers. An extension number, maybe? He holds the phone to his ear and waits for a moment.
“Aggie,” he says gruffly. “Send up two plates tonight, will you?” He listens for a moment to the muffled voice. “Morgan’s joining me this evening. Don’t worry about bothering Ellis, just send it up in the dumbwaiter. Oh, and Aggie, send up some spotted dick for pudding if there’s any left.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at me. “Do you like spotted dick?”
“Spotted what?” I say a little too primly.
He rolls his eyes and returns to the phone. “Just send up two portions. I’ll finish his off if he doesn’t like dick.” His chuckle turns into a dirty laugh. “I’m guessing that’s not the case though.”
This time it’s me rolling my eyes as he hangs up the phone.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I say impulsively.
“What? You haven’t been all evening?”
I smile slightly and then sober. “Can you actually leave your room, or do you just not want to?”
He stares at me for a long time, carefully considering his answer.
“I honestly don’t know,” he finally says. “I haven’t tried.”
“Do you want to? We don’t have to go far, just down the corridor and back.”
He turns his head and looks at the door, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table.