Page 66 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow
“Yes, we have lots of foxes too. I love them, they’re so playful. A bit noisy though,” I say with a rueful expression. “Especially when they’re horny and getting it on. Seriously, you’ve never heard a racket like it.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His mouth curves. “You got pretty loud last night.”
I laugh loudly. “Oh, trust me, I’m not even in the same league as them.”
We fall silent as we make our way through the orchard.
“You’re right, it really is beautiful,” Morgan says quietly as he looks around his ancestral grounds. “I remember playing out here when I was a kid. My dad would take me sledding when it snowed.” He blinks. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten that.”
I nod. “There’s a hill not far from here, and I think there are still some sleds in the storage sheds. I could ask John the Maid to see, and maybe you and I could try them out once all the guests have checked out.” I grin. “It could be our first date.”
He stares down at me as we walk. “I’d like that,” he finally says.
We stop briefly so I can point out the actual tree Edwina chained herself to and accidentally froze to death. I personally wouldn’t have had a clue which one it was, but Edwina, who was still trailing after Thad like a groupie, helpfully pointed it out and seemed quite adamant it was the correct one.
After a few selfies, we move on. The orchards give way to the wild woods that I love so much, and as predicted, we do see some of the badgers who’ve ventured out of their cosy little subterranean setts. A few more photos for the guests and we are on our way once more.
“Did you manage to call your friend?” Morgan asks.
“Tristan?” I clarify, and he nods. “Yes, I did. He said he’d have a think about it and call me back.”
“Have a think about what?”
“How to help, but he’s got his hands full at the moment,” I explain. “His dad is dying and one of his friends has just been murdered.”
Morgan frowns. “He’s a medium, isn’t he?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Well, not officially. I mean, he does see dead people. He’s a forensic pathologist and his boyfriend—sorry, fiancé, they got engaged when they were here—his fiancé is a detective at Scotland Yard.”
“And they were here during the murder mystery weekend?”
I nod. “Yes. When one of the murder mystery actors, Professor Plume, turned out to be actually dead, not just fake dead, and we were snowed in without the police being able to reach us, they basically unravelled the mystery of how the professor died.”
“It’s never dull here, is it?” Morgan states dryly.
“Well, it was for ages,” I reply. “Up until Tristan came, I didn’t even know ghosts were real. Then the murder mystery weekend happened, and it changed everything. After that, you arrived and boom, everything changed again. This last month and a half have been the best weeks of my life so far.”
As we continue through the trees, a small building comes into view.
“Is that the chapel?”
“No, actually. It’s the mausoleum. The chapel is just behind it, along with the graveyard.”
Morgan falls silent and I know what he’s thinking. The mausoleum is where Bertie told him his father’s ashes are interred.
“I brought the keys with me if you want to go in,” I tell him softly. “I’ll make sure you have some privacy.”
He stares in silence for several long seconds as we walk towards it, but eventually, he shakes his head.
“Not today. Maybe some other time,” he says quietly.
“I understand,” I reply. “Today’s probably not the best time with all these people around, but you can go anytime. We keep the keys in the office, so you can take them whenever you’re ready.”
“Would you–” He breaks off. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course I will.” I squeeze his hand through my mittens.
Morgan’s phone suddenly rings, the tone shrill in the hush of the woods. Pulling it out of his pocket, he frowns at the screen.