The Ghost of Grey Fox Inn Read Free

really tired,” she announced ina flat voice, turning to Parker. “I’m going up to my room.”
    â€œHey, Char, wait—” Parker called out. But Charlotte shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. She set down her glass on a side table nearby, grabbed her suitcase, and climbed the spiral staircase without another word.
    Bess and George looked at me, their expressions curious. As casually as I could, I said that we should probably check in to our rooms as well. The Goodwins and the Hills barely acknowledged us as we went off to find the front desk.
    â€œMan,” George whispered as soon as we were out of earshot. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”
    â€œIt’s pretty common for there to be some tension between the bride’s and groom’s families,” I reasoned. “It’s probably just nerves getting to them. I’m sure they’ll get along much better once all the excitement begins.”
    â€œI hope so,” Bess said, her eyes filled with concern. “I know Charlotte was worried about the two familiesgetting along, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
    Around the corner, we found an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a close-cropped beard sitting behind a tall desk. “Welcome to the Grey Fox Inn,” he said pleasantly. “My name is John William Ross, and I’m the owner here. How may I help you ladies?”
    â€œWe’re part of the Goodwin-Hill wedding party,” Bess replied. “We’re just checking in.”
    â€œVery good,” John William said with a nod. “You’ll all be on the second floor. Here are your room keys.”
    We all picked up our keys—old-fashioned gold ones with fancy handles and long shafts. George leaned in and asked, “So, is it true? Is this place really haunted?”
    John William looked taken aback by the question. “Haunted?” he asked.
    â€œYeah!” George said with enthusiasm. “I read all about it online. This place used to be hopping with ghosts back in the early nineteenth century!”
    A strange look passed over John William’s face, but then his expression turned to good humor. “It’s been a while since anyone has come in asking about ghosts,”he said with a chuckle. “This inn hasn’t been graced by those kinds of guests in many, many years.”
    George looked crestfallen. “Okay, thanks anyway,” she said with a sigh.
    â€œWere you hoping for a supernatural visitor tonight, George?” I asked as we ascended the staircase with our bags.
    â€œIt would have been a nice way to break up all this business of flowers and dresses,” she said. “But they’ve got high-speed Internet, so I guess I’ll live.”
    At the top of the stairs, the landing branched out in two directions, and the walls were inset with beautiful wooden shelves filled to capacity with colorful books. I brushed my fingers against their leather and cloth spines, reading titles like Behind Parlor Doors: The Story of Old Charleston and The City of Three Rivers . Bess and George went down the long hall to the right, while my room was on the left-hand side. We agreed to meet up again in the main room at seven thirty and discuss dinner plans, after we’d all had a chance to freshen up. On the way down the hall, I passed a room with a bronzeplate on the door that read BRIDAL SUITE . That must be where Charlotte is staying, I thought.
    My room was at the end of the hall, number nineteen. I unlocked the door and stepped inside a beautiful, wood-paneled bedroom. Two stained-glass lamps illuminated a large four-poster bed covered with a cheerful butter-yellow quilt, and a set of vintage cherrywood furniture. I pulled my suitcase onto the bed and began unpacking my things and settling in.
    After a long, hot shower and a couple of phone calls—both Ned and my dad always insisted I let them know when I arrive somewhere