JOHN BIEBE

Midnight. Wife’s asleep, kid’s been sleeping for hours. I sat at my laptop and wondered what the hell I was doing. I never before felt like writing shit down … except for these chronicle entries, that is. Guess maybe it’s the moon phase or something, but for some weird reason I’m thinking … thinking way too much. I’m the kinda guy who likes things nice and smooth. Easy, ay? When things are cool, I’m cool. Thinking too much don’t make me feel cool.

We’d all been through a lot of shit lately. From the Portal craziness to new arrivals, from the Aubrey tragedy to new life. Damn, and a mess of new life … Maximus’ new daughter, Egan’s surprise fatherhood, Lach and Jessie’s little bundle and the blessing inside Riles’ belly. New life. It tells us a lot about ourselves. For a long time we believed we couldn’t make kids, weren’t actually of this world, not part of it, like maybe we were just passing through since we couldn’t make a mark. Wrong. Babies everywhere. Lots of things we thought have changed.

After Riles went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the changes, the restructuring of our ideas, the acceptance of our realities. Hell, look at Antony. I swear, for a minute there I thought for sure he’d off himself. We all just gotta find the right way to look at things. If I hadn’t faced that damn vampire from another dimension in my storeroom, I might not have really caught a grasp on how tentative everything really can be. All our security, all our realities, could be snapped like a twig by anything … death, like the scare we got over Wigand’s heart attack and the mourning we still feel for tiny Catherine Aubrey. Our comfort zones can be destroyed by the Portal … and fuck, I sure as hell hope Eric Northman keeps his damn promise and quits playing with the Portals. We can lose everything by some random stupidity, neglect, selfishness or cruelty. One slip and we can all be done. Poof. It’s a different kind of mortality. It scares the fucking shit out of me sometimes.

So, I thought to maybe write all this shit out. Just start like a journal or something, get it off my mind and onto a word doc, locked and passworded of course. It worked. When I was done … for now … I finally yawned and went to bed. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Keyboard therapy … who knew.

BRIAN

Hi everyone. I’m a ghost and ghosts don’t sleep. So … I have to find ways to entertain myself. I ended up here at the Inn when John bought all the booths, bar and fixtures from my dad’s old pub in Boston. Seems no matter how hard I try to get away from dad’s life as a bar owner, I’m stuck around this stuff now for eternity.

It’s a nice place, the 1876 Manor at Mount Mansfield. I have made a few living friends. Daisy’s the easiest to talk to. She sees me and hears me, interacts real good, too. She’s fun and kinda cute. I can contact Riley, she always hears me but doesn’t always see me. That woman and I have had some pretty crazy conversations. The only other person I really make serious contact with is Terry Thorne when he visits. I think he’s the other reason I’m a permanent fixture at the Inn.

I met Terry years ago. I was an American training with an SAS parachute team when I died. Thorne was there, actually tried to save my life when my chute didn’t open. I think there are some issues he needs to get a grasp on. I’ve told him it wasn’t his fault or anything, but Terry’s determined to deny this Boston Yank’s apparitional existence. He thinks I’m a figment of his imagination. Oh, he hears me; he just won’t acknowledge me or talk to me. Yet.

They all hear me. And one of the ways I entertain myself is by having some fun with the guests. I actually have made the Inn pretty popular. People like ghosts. There are lots of ghosts here, but most of them are fairly quiet. I like to get a few laughs.

I like whispering in a sleeping guest’s ear that they forgot to lock their car doors then I watch them run out into the cold just to discover that they had. I hint that they’ve overslept and missed their flight home, the day before they’re leaving. I’ve suggest that Chef Monica baked her famous apple crisp turnovers for breakfast when she hasn’t. Poor Monna, now she bakes the things every morning, so many guests wake, drooling and asking for them. It’s just clean fun. I’ve always been a prankster … but sometimes even a ghost can cry “wolf” one time too many.

Four in the morning and Bud White and I were playing darts in the dark, quiet pub. White’s an interesting dude. He lived a long life and after he died, ended up here at the Inn too. Seems he’s connected with the “family” and has been shuffled through the Portals a few times. His grandson is Cory. Cory and Bud are as different as night and day; unless Cory has donned his 1950, LAPD attitude and vintage attire. At those times he’s so strikingly like his grandfather that only his gold earring gives him away. I’ve seen Riley go pale with shock at the sight. Pretty funny.

Yeah, different as night and day. Usually Cory is friendly and fun, easy going. Bud White is as tight as any former cop. I think in life his asshole was probably locked like a vice. In death, he sometimes lightened up. He wasn’t that night. He was winning.

He snorted and collected the darts. “That’s six games to your two, shitbird.”

“Gimme the darts,” I reached out but suddenly we both blinked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Something ain’t right,” White groaned and I looked around.

We both popped (that’s how we move around, we pop) through the entire Inn looking for what was about to happen. I caught Ben Wade thumping his woman. Interesting but not life threatening. Most of the guests were sound asleep. I met Bud in the apartment Jack and Natalie had occupied before they bought the farm a few miles away.

Preparations for construction started that afternoon. The place would be gutted and the Biebe’s apartment would soon take up the entire floor. Carpets had been torn away, woodwork removed and salvaged for later use; same with the hardwood floor in the kitchen and the tile in the bathrooms. I looked at White and shrugged, but his eyes slid to a wall.

It seemed that with all the tearing away of materials, someone had been a little negligent. Exposed wires were everywhere and one was dangerously cut, frayed, sparking.

“That’s bad,” I said.

“Fuckin’ A, it’s bad.” White was already fading for his next pop. “I’ll wake Cory, you work on Riles. Hurry up, dammit.”

CORY WHITE

I worked late, doing some editing on a piece for Vermont Travel and I had just crawled into bed and started to fall asleep when I heard a voice.

“Wake up, Cory.”

It was a man’s voice and I opened one eye then leapt up and starred. “Granddad?”

“Get the fuck up,” he said.

Daisy too had sat up, although a little slower. When her eyes focused in the darkness she gasped and pulled the sheets up to cover her boobs.

“Nice rack,” my grandfather smirked then dropped the full force of his gaze on me. I knew that look. Fuck, I must be in some kinda trouble.

“Get up. Get your woman outta here. There’s gonna be a fire. Frayed electrical lines up in Aubrey’s empty apartment. Move it!”

Daisy was already pulling on clothes and I was trying to find my jeans in the dark. “Hey, Granddad. How come I can see you?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Just get the fuck moving!” and he was gone.

Daisy ran out of our room and started pounding on the door next door while I climbed the stairs, two at a time, heading up to the Biebe’s.

RILEY

It was such a nice dream. I was getting a relaxing massage from an unknown, faceless man with GREAT hands. I could feel my muscles relax under his touch, I could smell the flowery scent of the warm oils, I could sense my toes curl and uncurl. I think I even sighed.

“Riley, you need to wake up!” said a voice and I wondered why the masseuse was trying to stop the relaxation so abruptly.

“No,” I whispered.

“Wake up, Riles! I’m serious.”

“Go away!” I snipped and snuggled deeper into the mattress, trying to hold on to the dream.

“WAKE UP, RILEY! NOW!”

I recognized that voice. Brian. Goddammit! Still refusing to open my eyes I hissed. “Listen you ghost, I’m a woman in her first trimester. Don’t mess with me. Let me sleep.”

“GET UP!”

“Leave me alone!” I actually shouted and John rolled over.

“I’m not touching you,” he grumbled.

And suddenly, the blare of fire alarms blasted through the Inn. Beneath it all was pounding at our front door. I threw on clothes and ran for my crying son while John raced for the door, shouting for Jackie to get a coat on.

Seeing Cory in the hall, I pushed Nathan into Jackie’s arms and yelled, “Get outside! Cory will show you the back way down!”

My son taken care of and thick grey smoke ominously creeping out from under the apartment door across the hall, my mind went to all my guests. We had over seventy people staying at the Inn and they were all going to be standing out in the cold! I ran like a crazy woman, grabbing coats and blankets where ever I could see them or think of finding them.

“What the fuck are you doing?” John gripped my hand.

Tears ran down my face but I struggled free and shouted for him to grab the blankets from the bedrooms. He caught on and just as we were overloaded with coats and volumes of wool, Ben rushed inside, tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and ran out of the door toward the fire escape. I saw John collect the items I dropped and run behind us.

“Let me down, you fool!” I cried and Ben set me on my feet so that I could negotiate the fire escape steps.

“I ain’t no fool, woman! You’re the one should’ve been outta there by now.”

At the bottom I rushed a safe distance from the building and joined my guests, turning an apologetic look at Ben. “Thanks.” I reached out to John for blankets and together we all passed them around to grateful, shivering guests in robes and slippers as the fire engine howled its entrance onto our property.

My first concern was for the families with children and the older guests. We tucked them into cars with coats and blankets then moved to get some warmth to the rest.

“Riley, darlin’!”

I turned to see Egan. He was at his car, Jacob already tucked in and belted.

“You two okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, why don’t you let me take Nathan with us. We’re gonna go to Lach and Jessie’s.”

I looked around the crowd, located Jackie and waved for her. She trudged over, Nathan snuggled in her arms.

“Jackie, why don’t you go with Egan. He’s going to take Nathan to Lachlan’s house.”

“Nope,” she said, tucking Nathan into the car. “I’ll stay with you, Riles.”

I watched Egan drive off and turned back to the Inn. The right tower was now billowing smoke as the firefighters charged inside and raised a ladder to reach the windows on the fourth floor. Tears blurred my vision and I tried not to think of the damage. John was rushing around, helping whoever needed help and working with Antony to keep the worker’s space clear of curious gawkers.

Richie wrapped an arm over my shoulder and leaned down to talk in my ear over all the noise. “Honey, I heard the Fire Chief say it might not be so bad. The empty apartment and the suite below it might be destroyed but there’s a chance yours will only have smoke damage. Looking on the bright side, it night be okay.”

I looked into his sympathetic blue-green eyes and cried harder. He rocked me in his arms until my cell rang. It was Egan, confirming that Nathan was calm and sound asleep before they even reached Lachlan’s house. He also promised to be back in the morning to see what he could do to help with repairs. Seemed everyone was thinking this might not be so bad. To me … it was devastating.

Glancing around I realized I had another responsibility. I lifted my cell and pushed away tears so I could start calling the neighboring inns and see if anyone had rooms to spare for my misplaced guests.

As if by magic, suddenly four shuttle vans arrived, carefully picking their way onto the property through guests, lookie-loos and emergency workers. One van was from the Old Russian Inn, the other from Classic Vermont Inn and the last two were labeled The Mount Mansfield Marriott Resort Hotels.

“Mrs. Biebe? I’m here from the Old Russian. We have room for fifteen.”

As the other drivers made their way to me … I cried harder. I surely never expected my competitors to come to my rescue.

Everyone finally leaving for a warm bed, again I looked up at the right tower. The firemen were winding down, announcing it was out and not so bad. Not so bad? All I knew was my heart had dropped to the snow packed parking lot along with my butt. Jackie sat beside me and pulled me into a hug.

“It’ll be fine. See. It’s not so bad.”

John joined us, waving us into the warmed jeep. I moved like molasses, my feet feeling like weights. I slid into the passenger seat and watched the water soaked snow around the walkway turn to ice in the predawn cold. And … I cried.

John held me tight; rocking me like a baby then sighed and kissed the top of my hair. “Baby, it’s not so bad. No one got hurt, everyone’s safe and on their way to rooms. Nathan’s in good hands and the repairs might not be such a big deal. Look on the bright side,” he pulled his face back and smiled down at me. “You wanted a bigger apartment; now you’ll have it even sooner.”

Jackie giggled.

I cried harder. “Where are we going?” I asked, hiccupping from the sobs.

“Jack’s. Don’t think they know abut the fire, but they’ll know soon enough. We need a place to stay and it’s their turn to return the favor.”

Jack looked like a mussed version of a blond wild man of Borneo when he answered the door, but one look at us and he pulled us inside. It was five-thirty AM.

We might get an hour or two of rest before it was time to go back and really assess the damage.
 
BEN WADE

I’d sent Tracy down to stay with the Wigand’s but Roberts and I stuck behind to see what we could do. Antony was goin’ a great job, but when the lot was finally quiet, it was kinda eerie.

“Frightening, isn’t it?” Antony said, shaking his head. “I do not think I have ever seen this place so quiet.”

“They condemn the building or can we take a look?” Roberts asked, stepping up onto the porch like he’d do what he wanted no matter what.

Antony followed. “Third and fourth floors are closed off in this tower. The kitchen will need to do some cleaning. Has anyone notified Chef Chris?”

I looked to Roberts who just shrugged and Antony began making phone calls on his cell as we looked around the Inn. The electricity was off but pale morning light was coming through the windows. We could see enough.

Riley was going to have a heart attack. The lobby was filthy. A big mirror was broken, probably by accident as the firemen worked their way up the steps. Carpets were wet and black with soot and mud. It was easy to see that it could be weeks before the Inn would be ready to open for business again. We climbed steps.

“What a pity,” Richie groaned, leaning into the damaged third floor suite. “More snow in the forecast too. They’re gonna lose a mess of business. Did they say what caused it?”

Antony snorted, shook his head. “The Fire Chief said it looked like a damaged wire up there.” He pointed to the hole in the ceiling.

“That make it Kevin’s fault? Since his guys did the work in there and all?” Richie eyed gap, looking right up into what was once the empty apartment.  

“Don’t matter whose fault it was. Someone’s payin’.” I was mad as hell.

“Relax, Tonto,” chuckled Richie. “The insurance company is paying; it’ll cover the lost business, too. What say we roll up those ruined carpets in the lobby and get them ready for the cleaners?”

JOHN

She cried herself to sleep in my arms. We never made it to a bed, just cuddled on the sofa after Jackie settled into a spare bedroom and we were finally alone. Before Riley drifted off, she told me that a ghost tried to warn her just before the alarm went off. Well … here’s to you, Spooky. You saved my family and my guests … and my unborn baby.

I carried Riley to the bedroom Jack offered us and snuck out. I had to see what I could do to get the Inn to look as good as possible before she saw it in the daylight. The last thing I wanted was a distraught, broken-hearted pregnant wife. My plan was to distract her with Nathan down at Lachlan’s house in town for most of the morning. Maybe I can make some headway. I called and woke Kevin and he was on his way.