A Dangerous Inheritance. Leona Karr
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avoided answering. She wasn’t about to share the still-painful memory of the night when two policemen came to her house and informed her that her fiancé, Richard, had died from an overdose at a party. It was then she’d learned that Richard had been a closet drug user, and, regretfully, she’d never known it.
The ill-fated love affair still haunted her, and she’d come out of the experience with a determination never to risk opening herself up to emotional turmoil again. It was lonely sometimes, but playing it safe, and keeping her guard up against any romantic involvements, had kept her life on an even keel.
Josh sensed that she’d been hurt, and badly. Probably by a man. Even her strong will and determination might not be enough to support her with the burden her uncle had put upon her. If the harsh challenges broke her spirit, another tragedy would be laid at the door of that wretched hotel. He knew it would be useless to argue. She’d just tell him to mind his own business.
When the waitress took their order for coffee, Josh asked her to fix them a couple of lunches to go: barbecue beef sandwiches, chips and a couple of pieces of Alice’s homemade apple pie. “You can order whatever supplies and groceries you need from the general store. Abe Jenkins, the owner, will make deliveries for a modest charge.”
As they drank their coffee, Stacy was aware of curious looks as several customers passed by their booth. A couple of older ladies greeted Josh with grinning familiarity, and he returned their teasing quips in the same light banter, ignoring their obvious desire to know who Stacy was.
It wasn’t until Alice’s husband, Ted, slipped into the booth that Josh introduced Stacy as the new owner of the Haverly Hotel.
Ted had the same incredulous expression as his wife. He was a sturdily built man with pleasant features and smile lines around his eyes. Stacy guessed him to be younger than his wife.
“I’ll be damned,” he said. “That monstrosity of a hotel seems to have more lives than ten cats. Everyone thought when Malo Renquist took off that the place would be torn down, and then your uncle came along and got it for back taxes…and now here you are.” He shook his head. “You’ll do better to tear the place down and put the land up for sale.”
“I can’t,” Stacy said and explained the stipulations in her uncle’s will.
“That sounds like Weird Willy,” Ted commented when she’d finished, and then quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but kind of—” He gave a slight twirl of his finger to his head.
“I know.” She sighed. “Uncle Willard was never close to my mother and me. We knew that he’d made a lot of money off of one of his inventions, but we had no idea he’d settled in Colorado.”
“She hasn’t seen the place yet,” Josh said. “I’m going to run her up there now.”
“Why don’t you let me do it?” Ted said quickly. “No need for you to put yourself through that kind of wringer.”
“No problem,” Josh said shortly.
It wasn’t until they were back in the pickup that Stacy realized what it might be costing Josh emotionally to revisit the scene of his sister’s death. She could tell from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to back down now. He’d said he’d drive her there, and that was that.
A narrow road mounted the side of the mountain, twisting back on itself in a slow but constant upward climb. The distance from Timberlane might only be five miles, but Stacy realized that for all practical purposes, she would be as isolated as if the mileage were triple that.
“Is this the only road to the hotel?”
He nodded. “There’s a jeep trail on the back side that comes within a mile of the property, but it’s in pretty poor shape. I think your uncle had new gravel spread on this one last year.”
Stacy took a deep breath and tried to keep the butterflies out of her stomach. At midmorning all hints of an early darkness in the cliffs and rocky caverns were gone, but a swath of sky overhead was still gray and foreboding.
Surely there wouldn’t be another terrifying storm so soon.
Stacy wanted to ask Josh questions about the condition of the hotel, but his stony silence discouraged her. When she had picked up the key from Mr. Doughty’s office, the lawyer had assured her that all the utilities had been put in service, including a telephone. Doughty had told her that the place was reported to be quite livable and continuing renovations only waited for her approval.
She clung to this reassurance when Josh shot her a quick look and said, as if to warn her, “Around the next curve, you’ll be able to see the hotel.”
Stacy didn’t know what she had expected the building to be like. Certainly not an antebellum southern mansion that looked utterly out of place set against a rough, rock-hewed mountainside. Built of gray stone, three stories high, the front entrance was framed by four pillars and a portico. A verandah and a series of small balconies and dirty mullioned windows accented the exterior. Steeply pitched lines of a roof, obviously designed to shed the heavy winter snows, made the Haverly Hotel look like somebody’s bad dream.
The gray day with its leaden sky blended with the dirty outside walls, streaked glass windows and the air of brooding desolation. Signs of a halted renovation were evident in the clutter scattered about the grounds.
“What a monstrosity,” Stacy audibly breathed, unable to hide her disappointment.
Secretly, she’d been fantasizing that the place might resemble one of those attractive mountain lodges with a warm wood exterior and rock fireplaces. With the remodeling her uncle had specified, she hoped that she might have herself a nice source of income. All such positive thoughts were brought up short as Josh pulled up in front of her inheritance.
“It’s a hellhole!”
She could feel the tension radiating from his rigid body. As her eyes unwittingly traveled along the second-story balconies, her stomach took a sickening plunge. She imagined a piercing cry and the deadly thud of a body hitting the ground below. She realized then how much it had cost Josh to bring her here.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know—” she began.
He brushed aside her apology as he got out of the pickup, took her suitcases out of the back and set them on the ground. He opened the passenger door for her. When she didn’t get out, he raised a questioning eyebrow. “Have you changed you mind about staying?”
She almost said yes. At that moment, the stipulation of her uncle’s will that she live on the property vibrated with a threatening foreboding. In time past, she had trusted her premonitions and been grateful for unexplained inner warnings.
“Do you want me to take you back to town?”
Common sense mocked her timidity. And then what? No car. Little money. And only unemployment awaiting her in L.A.
“No, of course not,” she said with false bravado and slipped out of the pickup. He picked up her bags, and they had started up the front steps when the front door suddenly opened.
Two men dressed in workmen’s clothes came out, and when they saw Stacy and Josh, they looked as if they might dart back inside and slam the door shut.
“What are you guys doing here?” Josh demanded. He recognized them as drifters, Chester Styles and Rob Beale, who had been hiring out to do an assortment of odd jobs around the town.
“We was working here, until Weird Willy kicked the bucket,” the burly, older Rob said. “We came back for our tools.”
“Yeah.” Chester nodded, a tall, lanky young man with straggly blond hair. “Our tools.”
Josh would have bet his last dollar the two of them were lying through their teeth, and he was about to tell them so when Stacy abruptly took charge of the conversation.
“I’m Stacy Ashford, the new owner,” she said pleasantly. “And I’m