Page 10 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“What do you think?” I turn to him with a grin. “We’re going to completely ignore everything he just said.”

Roger grins.

“Operation Scare the Fleshies Take Two is a go.”

3

Ellis takes my hand and leads me up the main staircase, but before we reach the floor my grandfather’s rooms are on, we see him heading down the corridor towards us.

Seems Wally was right. My grandfather is roaming the corridors of the hotel wearing an argyle sweater vest over a neatly pressed checked shirt. He’s also wearing a pair of carpet slippers and beige socks held up by sock suspenders. And—I sigh—a pair of baggy white Y-front underpants.

“Grandfather, haven’t we talked about you wearing pants while there are guests in the hotel?”

“Oh, Morgan, you’re back.” He shuffles towards us clutching a letter in his hand. Then he pauses and looks down as if checking that he is indeed wearing them. “And what do you mean? I am wearing pants.”

“Not underpants. Pants…trousers,” I correct myself. All those years spent in the States and I suppose I just got out of the habit of using the Britishisms I learned as a very young child.

“And I told you they chafe.” Grandfather scowls, and I’m not sure this is a battle I’m going to win, but if we want to attract and keep new guests in the hotel, we really are going to have to come to some sort of compromise. “Anyway, that’s not important right now. This—” He waves the piece of paper in agitation under my nose. “This… this…”

I can see he’s clearly having trouble articulating and is working himself up into a full head of steam.

“What is it, Cedric?” Ellis says softly.

My grandfather thrusts the letter at me, and I barely have time to glance at it before he’s talking at me, his words tumbling over themselves.

“There’s an investor wants to buy the place lock, stock, and barrel. Says he wants the land. Plans to tear the place down and build a golf course. A bloody golf course!”

“It’s fine, Grandfather,” I say, ignoring the jetlag headache I have brewing. “Just because this investor is interested doesn’t mean he’s going to get what he wants. Just say no.”

“It’s not that easy.” The anger drains from his eyes, replaced by worry. “I did say no, several times. But the bank’s put the interest rates up and added new charges. They say the house and land will be put up for auction if we can’t get the payments under control. Then this tosspot will be able to snap it up and our home, ourhistory, will be demolished to make way for an eighteen-hole playground for overpaid idiots.”

“That’s not going to happen, Cedric, we promise,” Ellis soothes him. “We’re all going to do everything we can to save this place. It’s our home too, and we love it. They’ll tear it down over our dead bodies.”

“Well, it definitely will be over Bertie and the others’ dead bodies. What will they do, haunt the fairway?”

“It won’t come to that.” Ellis takes Grandfather’s arm and tucks it through his. “Let Morgan take a look over the letters once he’s rested.”

“But–”

“Ellis is right.” I resist giving my eyes an exhausted rub. “I’ve already hired new lawyers, and they’re going over everything as we speak. Plus, both my brother and I are investing. We’ll get the finances back under control, I promise. It just takes time, and I’ll take care of it, but you know what would make things easier?”

“What?”

“Wearing pants.” I shake my head when he frowns. “Trousers, I mean. Look, I don’t have a problem with you wandering around your own apartments in your underwear if that makes you happy, but it’s not very professional to be doing it in front of the guests.”

Grandfather scowls. “But I don’t like them.”

“The guests?” Ellis tilts his head and studies him fondly. My belly gives a slow roll; he’s so adorable, like a puppy. How is it that he’s adorable and also sexy as hell? It’s a combination I’d never thought I’d be attracted to before I met Ellis.

“My trousers. I told you they’re uncomfortable.”

“All of them?” I ask.

“Yes, even the ones Ellis got me with an elastic waistband. The waist isn’t the problem, it’s my balls. I’m no spring chicken, you know. Everything heads south for the winter at my age. They’re like two pendulums on a grandfather clock, closer to my knees than my–”

“Charming,” I mutter sourly.

“You know what, Cedric?” Ellis beams at him. “I’ve an idea. Why don’t we go and visit Essie and Martha?”