The Chosen

there. “And you’re also aware ”

Feldspar maintained his chuckle. “Yes, Ms. Abbot, I’m well aware of the stories. But, really. We’re an enterprise, we’re business people. We don’t believe in ghosts.”

Neither did Vera, but that was hardly the point. “I just don’t think that anyone’s going to cater to a resort with a history like that.” Like…what, though? Vera didn’t know all the details, but she got a fair gist from the little she read of Wroxton Hall’s history. The hall had been leased by the health department as a convalescent domicile for the state’s most hopeless mental patients, and evidently some things went on that probably wouldn’t qualify as ethical health-care protocol. Questions arose as to exactly why the bodies of deceased patients wound up in military research labs, and still more questions arose as to exactly how these patients came to be deceased. There were also reports of the ward staff taking some considerable liberties with female patients. There was something about sadism, torture, pregnancies.

And, of course, something about ghosts…

It didn’t matter that this drivel had been fabricated by lore mongers and demented imaginations. Bad reputations had a way of lingering. Vera could see the ads now: Escape to Waynesville’s Romantic New Resort, Wroxton Hall, a Dreamy Little Getaway Complete with Torture Chambers and Luxury Suites in Which the Mentally Ill Were Raped and Murdered. Just the Place For You and that Special Someone to Get Away From it All and Mingle with a Delightful Coterie of Ghosts.

Christ, Vera thought.

“What is your current salary?”

She struggled not to smirk. But as ludicrous as it seemed to her now, this was still business. Why not at least see what Feldspar had to offer?

“Twenty-eight,” she said.

He stared back. “Well, I assure you, Ms. Abbot, we routinely pay our R.M.s many times more than that. More in the vicinity of a hundred thousand or so.”

Now it was Vera’s turn to stare. This was preposterous; no one paid R.M.s that much. ”A hundred thousand a year? Are you serious?”

“Quite.” He seemed to shrug. “In addition, there are many other benefits which, I should think, are rather standard.”

“Such as?”

“Well, two weeks paid vacation, travel expenses included. Free health insurance, free life insurance. Free room and board—”

“You’re kidding?” she questioned, astonished.

Again, Feldspar appeared as though nothing were amiss. “The inn has one hundred and sixty rooms. Some of them we’re reserving for staff. As upper management, of course, you would be entitled to a suite of your choice. They’re quite nice, I assure you. And there’s always the company car, for which we assume all expenses—”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Vera interrupted. She could fathom none of this. She held her hands up, thinking, trying to assess this unassessible circumstance.

“If the money’s insufficient,” he added, “I’m sure we can come to a mutual agreement. Say, a hundred and…fifteen thousand?”

Vera flagged the tablehop for another drink. This must be a sham, she concluded. It MUST be.

“And, naturally, we will assume your moving expenses, plus a cash compensation.” From the black jacket, Feldspar next produced a check, which he slid across the table.