Page 24 of Destined Chaos
“Fine,” I acquiesced. “You have a hairline fracture. You don’t know anyone in town, other than Dinky, and the way I see it, we need each other.”
“That’s questionable.”
“Not really. I know the locals. I can get things done, and you can help so that the ghosts don’t scare everyone away while they work.”
“And what do you get out of it?”
“Good karma.” I shrugged and then grinned. “No, really.” I cleared my throat. “I get to win you over so that when you leave, you’ll see that I’m the best person to own that place. I won’t disappoint you.”
“I’ve already had an offer.”
“Anything signed?” I asked, holding my breath, hoping the answer was no.
“No.” She swallowed hard. “He wants to turn it into a haunted attraction.”
All the air escaped my lungs, and my mouth parted. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. “Really?”
She nodded. “He wants to attract ghost hunters and ‘freaks’,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. She turned to me. “And use the Slaughter name and the bones in the basement as the marketing point.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Yeah, neither do I.” She grabbed the handle and opened her door and hobbled out.
11
Libby
His house was nothing like I’d imagined. He was a bachelor, and wanting to buy Slaughter House would not be cheap. His house was small compared to the many places I’d lived.
He and I would be tripping over each other fairly quickly.
“I know it’s small,” he said as he grabbed my luggage from the back while I used the crutches to get to the front door. “But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in charm. It’s the whole reason I bought the place.”
I could only imagine what awaited me inside.
He used the key and shoved the door open and helped me over the threshold. The foyer opened up to hardwood floors from reclaimed and repurposed wood.
“This is stunning,” I whispered.
“Isn’t it?” Hugh said, gesturing to the couch. “Take a load off while I put your bag in the room.”
I hobbled farther into the living room. Tan couches complemented the tile-inlaid tables. A bookshelf was on one wall, filled with books that covered history, business, and flying, just to name a few.
A bar separated the living room from the kitchen, where stainless-steel pots hung from the ceiling overhead with recessed lighting. All the comforts of the twenty-first century while keeping the history of the woodwork intact.
He returned from the back room.
“How old is this place?” I couldn’t stop from asking.
“It was built in 1892 by a married couple, Francesca and Harold Granger. One look at the place and I bought it.”
“Let me guess. It had a solid foundation.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I could feel the love in the air. The house was meant to be lived in and appreciated. I knew it after spending a minute inside. Call it a sixth sense.”
“So, no bones here, huh?”
“Not any that are talking to me,” Hugh said and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m sure you’re starved because I know I am. I’m going to whip together a meal, and I’m going to tell you all about my plans for Slaughter House and you can tell me all about your killing curse.”
