6
I stare at my baby brother and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Annnd wait…
Eventually, he drags in a breath and wipes his eyes. “Oh my god, this alone was worth the torture of the red eye from New York.”
“You’re a dick,” I say dryly.
He lifts his phone and I hear the click of my photo being taken.
I glare. “Do you mind?”
“Are you kidding?” He grins as he brushes the light dusting of snowflakes from his hair and unbuttons his heavy cashmere coat. “That’s going on the next family Christmas card. I’ll have it photoshopped into a picture of me and Mom.”
“Do it and I swear they will never find your body,” I mutter as I wrap my arm around Ellis and bring him in closer to my side. “Ellis, this idiot is my younger brother Warren.”
Ellis offers his hand, and as Warren grips it and shakes, Ellis hits him with a wide smile. My brother stills, blinking slowly, and I have a modicum of sympathy for him, having been on the receiving end of many of those smiles.
“Wow,” Warren murmurs. “It’s like staring into the corona of the sun.”
I reach out and pull Warren’s hand away from Ellis when he holds it a moment too long. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Uh, visiting you, of course,” he replies. “You didn’t think I was going to miss out on all the quirky British eccentricities, did you? Last time I video-called in the middle of your big ‘I’m staying here’ speech to Ellis here, it looked like you were throwing a weird costume party in the middle of the day.”
What he’d actually seen was a whole host of ghosts in clothes from the time periods they’d died in, but Warren had assumed they were just regular people, and I’m not about to disabuse him of that belief. I’m certain the ghosts of the Ashton-Drake are going to get into even worse trouble if anyone else finds out about them. The last thing we need are more ghosts from the Bureau of Hauntings or whatever showing up.
“Didn’t you get my messages?” Warren asks.
“I’ve temporarily lost my phone.” I sigh. “So no, I didn’t.”
“Oh, well, I’m here now and very much looking forward to your”—he picks up a leaflet from the desk—“Valentine’s Ghost Hunt Spectacular,” he reads aloud, then looks at Ellis. “A ghost hunt?”
Ellis nods enthusiastically. “There’s a whole local legend. We’ve got stuff going on all weekend.”
“Looks like I picked the perfect time to visit, then,” Warren says brightly. “Book me into your finest room, Ellis, and don’t be shy, feel free to shamelessly overcharge me.”
Ellis laughs and steps behind the desk, retrieving a set of keys from the rack. “Like we’re going to charge you. Even if you weren’t already investing in the hotel—which we really appreciate, by the way—you’re Morgan’s family. I’m sure Morgan’s grandfather will agree with me.”
“Ah, Pops! Where is he?” Warren says eagerly. “I’ve been dying to meet him in the flesh.”
“You might get your wish if we can’t get him into a pair of pants soon,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?” Warren’s lips twitch and his eyes sparkle with mirth.
“I said you’ll get to meet him this afternoon.”
“Here you go, Warren.” Ellis hands him a set of keys with the number 409 written on the keyring. “It’s not far from Morgan’s room. It’s one of the bigger ones with fully refurbished bathrooms. We had intended them to be honeymoon suites. If we can just get some happy couples booked in, that is.”
“Thank you.” Warren winks at him as he takes the keys. “I’m sure it will be perfect.”
I can’t help the small growl that escapes.
“You really have gone a bit feral, Morgs.” Warren studies my clothes, eyeing the huge furry collar of the coat, and I can tell he’s trying not to start laughing again. “Why exactly are you dressed like Mufasa?”
Rolling my eyes, I turn to Ellis. “Can I please have the spare key to my room?” I ask. “Artie locked me out and I need to check if all my clothes are still missing.”
“Why are your clothes missing?” Warren asks curiously.
“It’s a long story.”
Ellis eyes my outfit once more. “Where did you get those clothes?”
“Found them in an old storage room Roger showed me. I’m pretty certain I’m getting an STD from these pants as we speak. I really, really just want a hot shower and some underwear. I should also shave this beard off before someone mistakes me for Charles Manson.”
Ellis chuckles and grabs the spare key to my room from the rack. “I’ll try and find Artie and speak to him,” he says quietly as he hands them to me. “But if your things aren’t back in your room yet, maybe you could borrow something to wear from your brother.”
I want to lean over the desk and kiss Ellis thoroughly, but I refrain. I think I’ve been unprofessional enough for one morning.
“Warren, I’ll have John the Maid take your luggage up to your room, if you like,” Ellis says.
“John the Maid?” He chokes out a delighted laugh. “This place is all kinds of crazy, but don’t worry about it, sunshine. Even though I can’t wait to meet some guy known as John the Maid, I can manage, and Morgs can show me the way. I have a feeling we have plenty to catch up on.”
“Okay, then.” Ellis gives him another smile. “Breakfast will be served until ten today, and at midmorning, there’s a meet and mingle for all the new guests and everyone taking part in the ghost hunt weekend.”
“I look forward to it.” Warren readjusts the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder, then reaches behind him for the handle of the case he brought with him. “Lead the way, Morgan.”
“Well, the other guests should be down for breakfast soon, so I’ll see you both later.” Ellis gives us a small wave and heads in the direction of the dining room.
“Oh my god, he’s gorgeous,” Warren whispers to me. “I don’t suppose he has a brother who likes to top, does he?”
“You’re ridiculous.” I roll my eyes again—something I seem to do a lot around my younger brother—and head towards the stairs, the unicorn horns on Ellis’ slippers once again jingling.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn as my brother opens his mouth.
I climb the stairs with Warren trailing along behind me. Glancing back over my shoulder, I scowl.
“Are you humming Elton John’s The Circle of Life ?”
“What? I can’t help it! If you didn’t want me to say anything, maybe you shouldn’t have dressed as the main attraction at the San Diego Zoo.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
He jogs up the stairs so he’s beside me and shoots me the look that never failed to get us both in trouble when we were kids.
“No, you don’t.” He grins. “Now, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on? And before we get started on this place and its unconventional staff, I want to know what you were doing back in the States last week.”
“You were busy in New York, and someone had to go to the board meetings.” I shrug, wrinkling my nose and fighting the urge to sneeze as the wild mane of a fur collar tickles it.
“Ehhh.” He makes a loud buzzer noise. “Wrong answer, try again. I thought we agreed you were going to stay here for a while. Take a breather from the company, spend some time with your grandad, fix up the hotel. Not to mention spend hours in bed with the blonde cutie from downstairs.”
“This isn’t a movie, Warren.” I frown. “It’s not like I can make a big dramatic declaration and then live happily ever after while the closing credits roll. I still have obligations and responsibilities to you and Mom and the company.”
“Ehhh.” He makes that stupid buzzer noise again. “Wrong again. Your dramatic declaration in front of Ellis and the staff was mediocre at best. Up until today, I would have said you don’t have a single dramatic bone in your body.” His gaze dips to my outfit and the unicorn slippers, and he raises one brow. “But I’m seriously reconsidering.”
“Do you have a point?”
“My point is, neither of us needed to be at that board meeting. There was nothing important on the roster to discuss. The board members are all a bunch of old men who love the sound of their own voices. They only like to meet that frequently to one-up each other with who has the youngest, hottest mistress or most exclusive vacation property. If it were up to me, I’d fire the lot of them. Why’d you think I was in New York? It was the furthest I could get from them without leaving the country.”
“Warren—”
“Just admit it, Morgs. You did something impulsive, listened to your heart instead of your head for once, then had a panic attack, got cold feet, and ran back to the States.”
“I did not run anywhere, I do not have panic attacks, and my feet are perfectly toasty, thank you very much.”
He eyes the unicorns again. “I can well believe it.”
I stop by my door and slot the key into the lock, hoping it turns and Artie hasn’t done something to permanently keep me out. “Warren, you’re reading something in to all of this that just isn’t there. I am intending to stay here for a while, but I still have loose ends to tie up, and like it or not, I am still a part of the company.”
To my relief, the lock clicks open, and I turn the handle, swinging the door open and stepping inside.
“I have no doubt you still have some sort of responsibilities, which is something both of us are going to have a very frank conversation about, but there’s something else. I–” His voice trails off as he gets a look at my room; more specifically, the upside-down furniture.
“You guys are really leaning into the whole haunting aesthetic, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “Very Poltergeist with just a touch of Paranormal Activity .”
With a quick glance around the room, I note that my luggage, ergo my clothes, is still nowhere to be seen. Letting out a huff of annoyance, I turn around and walk back out.
“Come on.” I motion for my brother to follow me. “We’ll use your room.”
“For what? A quick Ouija board session?”
I ignore him and stride down the corridor to room 409. Please let it be normal , I mentally plead as I grab his key from him and unlock the door.
“I must say, big brother, this is a whole new side of you.” He chuckles. “I don’t know whether to embrace it or book you a session with a therapist.”
“Trust me, a weekend here and you’ll figure it out.” Opening the door, I breathe a sigh of relief when everything appears to be as it should. Ushering him inside, I close the door behind him and take the handle of his suitcase.
He lets go as he strolls further into the room and studies the furnishings. “Cute.”
“Unlock this for me,”
“This place isn’t bad, you know.” He wanders to the case and spins the dials on the combination, unlocking it with a click. “It’s got good bones. Great location.”
I unzip his case and start rifling through as he crosses to the window and stares down at the vast expanse of the grounds, still covered by snow.
“Pretty as a picture, great for couples, romantic getaways, a wedding venue?” he murmurs to himself, and I can tell he has his hotelier brain in the driving seat right now. Smiling fondly at him, I pull out a clean pair of boxers, some socks, and a pair of designer jeans.
“It’s got great potential.” He turns back to look at me, breathing in deeply. “It smells great in here. You’d expect it to be a bit damp and musty given the age of the property. I mean, it’s almost as old as our Constitution.”
“Older, actually,” I reply absently. “It may be a bit run-down, but John the Maid is fastidious about cleaning. I swear he’s some sort of magician. They don’t currently have a housekeeping staff, it’s just him, and I’ve never found so much as a stray speck of dust or a single cobweb.”
“I can’t believe you guys call him John the Maid.” Warren glances over at me, his eyes filled with amusement.
“Because that’s his name.” I shrug. “Do you have any spare shoes?” I ask, grateful that we’re the same size.
“There’re some sneakers in there.” He looks around the room once again. “It’s old and shabby. Could use a fresh coat of paint, some new wallpaper that’s still in keeping with the overall feel and history of the building.”
I nod and grab a t-shirt and soft deep-blue knitted sweater, placing them with the growing pile of items I’m about to steal from my brother.
“I can see why you didn’t present it to the board for consideration to bring it under the company umbrella. They’d have taken it on in a heartbeat, poured in the money it needs, but they’d also have stripped out all its character and uniqueness to bring it in line with our other hotels.”
“I know.” I grab his wash bag and head into the bathroom, flipping on the light and then the shower, leaving the water to heat while I strip off these god-awful clothes and debate whether to put them back or burn them. “I wouldn’t have put it past them to knock the place down,” I call out to Warren, who’s still in the bedroom, “and build a more modern hotel and spa in its place. It’s got a lot of land. It’s already attracted an aggressive buyer who wants to make it into a golf course.”
Opening the shower door, I step under the water, groaning in satisfaction before tipping my head back under the spray and letting it saturate my hair.
“There are thousands of hotels, spas, and golf courses to cater to the rich and pretentious.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Warren in the bathroom’s open doorway, having discarded his heavy winter coat and scarf and now leaning against the doorframe.
“You do remember catering to the rich and pretentious is how we make our money?” I grab the complimentary hotel body wash and squeeze some into my palm, pleasantly surprised at the scent as I lather up my body. Usually I use my own—that is, until Artie ran off with it.
“I haven’t forgotten that,” Warren says, and there’s something in his voice, something I can’t quite place, but it doesn’t sound like his usual happy-go-lucky nature.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I rinse off my body and reach for the shampoo.
“Nothing,” comes his reply. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything we have. I guess sometimes I think it would’ve been nice if we could’ve built something for ourselves instead of just having it all handed to us.”
In the middle of scrubbing my hair, I pause, letting his words sink in. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned something like this, and I get it.
“Do you want to sell up?” I ask quietly, my voice barely audible above the clatter of the water.
“No.” He sighs. “I don’t know.”
I lean my head under the water and rinse, giving him time to order his thoughts.
“I feel like I’m at a bit of a crossroads,” he admits as I shut off the water and open the shower door, snagging a clean towel off the rail and rubbing the excess water from my hair.
“I know that feeling,” I mutter, wrapping the towel around my waist.
“It’s not like I don’t love the job, or parts of it, at least. Being a hotelier is in our blood, but the company grew so big, so impersonal. All the hotels are the same. I know Dad was going for the luxury market, but you have to admit, we’ve seen the inside of more boardrooms than hotels over the last few years. It’s never-ending meetings, and I guess I’m struggling to remember the parts I do love.” He crosses the bathroom and hops up onto the counter beside me as I step up to the sink and study my reflection in the mirror. “Dad worked himself into an early grave, and I guess I don’t want the same thing to happen to either of us. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to look back and realise all I did was work twenty-four seven at a job I’m ambivalent about at best.”
“I get it, believe me.” I reach for the small travel toothbrush in the room’s welcome gift basket and unwrap it. “But it doesn’t mean things can’t change, Ren. You know I loved your dad, and I’m so grateful for all the opportunities he gave both of us. But he’s gone. If running the company is not what you want, we can do something about it.”
“What do you want?” he asks me. “For your future, I mean?”
I squeeze some toothpaste onto my brush and take the time while I’m brushing my teeth to really think about it. Finally, I spit and rinse, then dry off my mouth and turn to my brother.
“Honestly?”
He nods. “I think we both need to start being honest, not just about what we want but also what we need.”
“Like you, there are parts of being a hotelier that I love. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else. But you’re also right that the company has become so big and impersonal. All our hotels are…”
“Boring?”
My mouth twitches as Warren unzips his wash bag and hands me a comb.
“I was going to say they all follow a blueprint as part of the branding. It was what your dad wanted, but that was his dream. You need to figure out yours.”
“I’m not sure how to do that,” he admits, watching me comb my hair.
“Sure you do,” I say as I set the comb down and he hands me his shaving foam. “Forget all of our hotels and the business as it currently is. If you had a hotel empire all of your own, how would you want it to look?”
“I don’t know. Smaller, I guess. More intimate. Each property unique. Although we have hotels in other countries, those are geared towards luxury city breaks, and we have that huge concentration of similar ones in the States. I’ve always loved older buildings, ones filled with history and character,” he says, warming up to the subject, and I can see the moment the light and excitement flickers in his eyes as his imagination fires up. “A smaller portfolio of hotels. Less domestic, more international. Historical cities. Landmark buildings. We wouldn’t just be hoteliers, we’d be preserving old buildings. Each one would be steeped in its country’s history. No more beige walls and white bedding. Colour and culture. Edinburgh, Venice, Madrid, London, so many amazing places with buildings that need saving, that can be beautiful and functional once more. No boards, no one to answer to. Just you and me.”
Despite the layer of foam covering the lower half of my face, I smile at him. “Sounds perfect to me.”
He hands me his razor. “Do you really think we could? I mean, sell off Dad’s company, everything he worked for.”
“I think your dad got to live his dream, and he’d be just as happy to watch you build yours.” I turn to the mirror and start shaving.
“Our dream, Morgs,” he says. “We could save this place too.”
I rinse the razor and lift it back to my cheek. “We can’t. Even if we actually decided to sell the company, it won’t happen overnight. It could take a few years. We’d need to talk to Mom about her shares before anything else. Then there’s dealing with the board, finding a buyer. If we decide to break it up to sell off instead, it would take even longer, although it would be worth more money. There’s so much red tape and legalities. We’d also need to have the lawyers go back over the terms of your dad’s will, which honestly may have to happen even before we talk to Mom.”
“So?” Warren says.
“This place doesn’t have that kind of time.” I finish shaving and rinse my face, patting it dry with a soft hand towel.
He frowns. “How bad is it?”
“Bad.” I sigh and head back into the bedroom, Warren following behind. “I’ve only got a rough picture at the moment. That’s why I went back home to organise things so I can spend longer here without interruption. There are years of accounts to go through, and it’s all a mess. Creditors are banging down the door, they’re close to foreclosing and putting it to auction if we can’t turn it around soon. Even though you and I are both pouring our own money into it, this place is a money pit. There’s so much that needs doing.”
I shake my head, a sour feeling sitting in my gut as I reach for the clean pair of boxers and slide them up my legs, tossing the damp towel to the floor.
“I’ll help while I’m here,” Warren says. “I’m sure between us we can find a way to keep it afloat.”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, pulling the rest of his clothes on.
“Don’t know what?” he asks gently.
I sit on the bed to pull my socks and shoes on. “I don’t know if I can do it, Warren.” I drop my feet to the floor and look at him. “There’s so much riding on me being able to find a way to save the hotel. This is Ellis’ home, not to mention all the others who live here too.” And I wouldn’t be mentioning all the others. “What if… what if I can’t do it?”
Warren settles down beside me. “You’ve always been such a worrier. We’ve got this, Morgs. There’s nothing you and I can’t do together. I’ve got your back, like always.” He smirks and nods towards my neck. “And I’m guessing Ellis has got other parts of you.”
“Shut up.” I flush, raising my fingers to the hickey Ellis gifted me with last night.
“Come on.” Warren stands. “I need some proper food, not that overnight shit they serve in-flight. Let’s go downstairs so I can meet more of your merry band of staff.”
I shift off the bed and pick up my towel, depositing it in the laundry hamper so we don’t upset John the Maid. We exit his room, and he locks up behind him, tucking the key in his pants pocket.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw a key for a hotel room. I’m so used to the standard key card system. Kinda cute though.”
We head down the corridor and, as we round the corner, a familiar person comes into sight.
My mouth falls open.