The Ghost of Grey Fox Inn (3 page)

I wanted to believe her, but Charlotte's story just seemed so implausible. Could it be that the stress of the wedding was affecting her even more than anyone suspected? It was possible, but I knew better than to suggest that to a jittery bride-to-be.

A moment later I heard Bess's familiar voice at the door. “Hello?” she said, poking her head in. “What's going on in here? Charlotte, are you all right?” She hurried into the room, with George following behind her.

After assuring Bess that she was fine, Charlotte recounted her story once more for Bess and George. When she heard that Charlotte had hit her head, Bess immediately took off out the door, returning only
minutes later with a middle-aged man wearing tiny, round glasses that framed his kind eyes. “Uncle Harry is a doctor,” Bess explained. “I thought he should take a look at Charlotte just to make sure she doesn't have a concussion.”

“Good thinking,” I said to Bess.

While Uncle Harry examined Charlotte, my friends and I retreated to the windows to talk.

“It's a strange story, don't you think?” I asked.

“Strange?” George said, an excited gleam in her eye. “I think it's a great story. You know what this means, right?”

Bess and I exchanged a look. “No,” I said. “What?”

“This place might be haunted after all!”

Bess rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, George. Charlotte didn't see a ghost.”

George crossed her arms. “Maybe not, but tell me this: If someone was in this room, how did they get in or out? There's only one door, and like Nancy said, it was locked from the inside. And you were at the door right after you heard Charlotte scream, so there was
no time for someone to leave the room, right?”

I nodded.

“And take a look at this window,” George went on. “It's a straight fifteen-foot drop down. No one would have climbed out of here to escape.”

I had to admit, George had a point. “That's true,” I replied, “but it all assumes that Charlotte did actually see someone in her room. It's possible that it was just a shadow, or a trick of the light.”

“I guess so,” George said, shrugging. “But I still prefer my ghost story.”

The doctor spoke up behind us, and we all turned around. “Well, Charlotte,” he said, “it looks like you're no worse for wear. Just take a couple aspirin for the pain and get some rest. You should be fine in the morning.”

“Thanks, Uncle Harry,” Charlotte said as he left. She looked around at the people gathered in the room and gave a nervous laugh. “Well,” she said, “this isn't quite the way I envisioned my wedding preparations to begin.”

“We'll get to the bottom of this, Charlotte,” I found myself saying. “Don't worry.”

Piper regarded me with interest. “You know,” she said, “with all the commotion, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Piper, Charlotte's older sister and her maid of honor.”

Charlotte made the introductions, including Bess and George as well. The young man named Morgan stepped up and shook everyone's hands—including Charlotte's. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” Morgan told her. “I've heard so much about you.”

Charlotte smiled awkwardly and shot Piper a look. “I wish I could say the same—sis, I didn't know you were bringing a plus one.”

Piper slapped her head in dismay. “Oh jeez, Char, I'm so sorry! Morgan and I started dating a while back—I must have been so caught up in our time together that I totally forgot to ask you to add him to the guest list.”

Charlotte looked at the two of them—their arms linked together, bodies pressed close—and sighed.
“I guess it's not a big deal,” she finally said. “I can squeeze him in at the bridal party's table at the reception.”

“You're the best, Char,” Piper said with a winning smile. Then her eyes zeroed in on something behind Charlotte. “Is that the dress?!” she exclaimed, and dashed over to the white gown hanging on the bathroom door. “Ohh,” she breathed, running her fingers over the creamy, beaded satin. “It's gorgeous.”

“I just hope I can pull it off,” Charlotte said wearily. “Mrs. Hill insisted I wear something . . . extravagant. She had her heart set on a big Southern wedding. Honestly, the thing would look much better on you.” She turned to the girls and me. “I don't know if Piper mentioned this, but she's been modeling since she was a kid,” she explained.

“Oh, pish,” Piper replied gaily, waving us off. “It's just a few jobs here and there. Pays the bills. And anyway”—her eyes returned to her sister—“you're the one marrying the famous news anchor!”

“I am, aren't I,” Charlotte murmured. All of a sudden, she looked terribly drained.

“Well,” I announced to the room. “Charlotte, unless there's anything else you need, I think we should all let you rest. Doctor's orders.”

We were all trooping out of the room when Charlotte said, “Wait!” We turned around, and Charlotte regarded us seriously. “Whatever you do, please keep this between us. You've seen how superstitious Mrs. Hill is, and she's been helping me organize this wedding for months. If she catches wind of something strange happening . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Well, I just don't want to find out how she's going to react.”

“We won't say a word,” Bess promised. We all nodded in agreement. Charlotte looked a little relieved, and we left her sitting on the bed and closed the door softly behind us.

“There's a cocktail hour with appetizers and things being served downstairs,” Piper told us. “You girls should come and enjoy yourselves!”

“Thanks—we'll be down in a minute,” Bess said.

“Sure thing!” Piper said with a smile, and then she and Morgan headed downstairs.

“I never would have guessed that those two were sisters!” I said once they were out of earshot. “They couldn't be more different if they tried.”

Bess nodded. “They've always been like that, ever since they were little. I always had a closer relationship with Charlotte.”

“I guess opposites really do attract,” George added.

“Clearly,” I chuckled. “Look at the two of you!”

Bess smirked. “Well, yes. But it was never really that way with Charlotte and Piper. Piper was always in the spotlight, always getting all the attention from kids at school—especially boys. On the other hand, Charlotte was quiet and bookish—she kept to herself most of the time, and only had a few really close friends. Honestly, I'm a little surprised that Charlotte asked her to be the maid of honor.” After a moment, Bess shrugged. “Though I guess it makes sense. They are sisters. And it certainly seems like they've
overcome whatever differences they had when they were younger.”

“Enough gossip,” George said, clapping her hands. “Time to eat!”

Back downstairs, the main room had filled up with the last members of the bridal party and their families who had arrived from out of town. The sun was setting, casting the room in a warm, pinkish light. Tables of finger food and drinks had been set out, and George's eyes lit up when she saw them. “Thank goodness,” she said, grabbing a small plate and piling it with cheese and rolls of deli meat. “I'm famished! We haven't had a bite since those measly snacks on the plane. Maybe this can be our dinner!”

After picking up some fruit and crudités, I stepped up to the drinks table to pour myself some lemonade. Parker was already there, filling up his own glass with sweet tea. I considered telling him what had happened to Charlotte, but thought better of it—she might want to explain the situation to him herself. Parker was about to step away when a small, older woman in a lavender
floral dress stopped him. “Oh my gracious,” she said in a tremulous voice. “You are even more handsome in person than you are on TV!”

Parker must have been used to this kind of thing, because he didn't even blush. “Why, that's most kind of you to say, ma'am,” he replied smoothly. “Are you a friend of the family?”

“I used to play bridge with your mother in the old days,” the woman replied. “Now, would you make an old lady's week, young man, and take a picture with me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Parker said.

The woman unceremoniously pushed a blocky old digital camera into my hands before cozying up to Parker. “Just push the button at the top,” she ordered.

I obeyed, and the flash fluttered in their eyes before capturing the image. I handed the camera back to the woman, who immediately squinted at the display to make sure I had taken a satisfactory photo. “Thank you, dear,” she said to Parker, pumping his hand and then hurrying away.

Parker met my eyes, his own sparkling with good
humor. “You've got to give the people what they want,” he said with a smile. A moment later he was called across the room by his father and gave me a quick wave before walking away.

“Some guys have all the luck,” said a voice. I turned to see an angular young man standing nearby, leaning against the back of a couch with a cup of coffee grasped in one hand. He had a mop of curly brown hair on his head and was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Parker. He's good-looking, successful, wealthy—and now he's marrying some Harvard-educated gal with enough brains to fill a football stadium!” He shook his head in wonder, watching the groom-to-be greeting guests across the crowded room. “The guy's got good luck coming out of his ears, that's all I'm saying.” He looked over at me, as if waking up from a dream. “Oh, boy—have I been running my mouth off again? Sorry! The name's Tucker Matthews. I'm Parker's coworker and one of the groomsmen.”

“Nancy Drew,” I said with a smile.

“Hope to see you around, Nancy Drew,” Tucker said, and raised his coffee in a toast. “Here's to some good luck for the rest of us.”

I left Tucker at the drinks table and wound my way through the crowd until I found Bess and George. “I'm beat,” I told them. “It's been a long day, so I think I'm going to head up to my room and go to bed.”

“I'm going to stay up a while longer,” Bess said. “The bridesmaids are all planning to discuss the plans for the next couple days—there's a lot still to do!”

“I'll come with you,” George said to me. “Just let me grab one more plate of food for the road.”

After George gathered up a towering pile of cookies and pastries, we both headed up the spiral staircase to our rooms. I managed a good night as we parted, my feet feeling heavier with every step. I could hardly wait to get into my pajamas and between the sheets.

I slipped into my cozy room, changed my clothes, brushed my teeth, and crawled gratefully into bed. I thought that the events of the evening might keep me
awake, despite how tired I was, but I was wrong. I was out cold as soon as my head hit the pillow.

It felt like only minutes had passed when I woke up with a start. I glanced over at the digital clock I had placed on the nightstand; it read 3:19 a.m. I had been fast asleep for hours—what had woken me up? I raised my head to look around the room, and my heart leaped into my throat.

There, standing at the foot of my bed, was a figure, looming in the darkness.

WITH A STARTLED CRY, I
leaped out of bed and tried to get a better look at the intruder. With only the moonlight streaming in from the window, it was hard to make out any details—but just as Charlotte had said, it appeared that the figure was dressed in some sort of uniform. Both jacket and pants were of a single color—blue, perhaps?—and the coat's metal buttons flashed in the dim light.

“Don't come any closer,” I warned, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I scanned the room for something I could use as a weapon and landed on a
heavy-looking crystal vase on the nightstand by my side. I grabbed it by the neck and whirled back around to face the intruder—

But he was gone.

Shaken, I darted across the room to the lamp on the dresser and switched it on. Yellow light flooded the room, revealing no one but my own pale reflection in the vanity mirror. I quickly checked the closet and bathroom, but to no avail. Whoever had been in my room had vanished. But how?

The door was chained and bolted; the windows, too. Curious, I unlocked the door and stepped out into the dark hallway, searching for any sign of movement. A single candle was burning on a table near my door, casting eerie shadows on the wall. I picked it up by the metal candlestick and raised it in front of me, casting my gaze around, looking for any sign of movement. A second later, I heard the telltale groan of an old floorboard and ran out to the main hallway to see who was there.

“Gah!” George yelped, sloshing the drink in her
hand down the front of her T-shirt. “You scared the daylights out of me, Nancy!” She brushed at the wetness spreading across her shirt and asked, “Did you get thirsty too? I think there's some more lemonade downstairs. . . .” Her words died as she saw the expression on my face. “Uh, Nance? Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a—”