She gave a little sigh as if reluctant to do the right thing. “Okay then, I’ll let you get on with it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out how the mistress hotel started.”
He picked up his satchel ready to go out the back. “Will you tell me over dinner?”
“Maybe.” She grinned, then walked away. He watched her hips sway then followed her down the corridor wishing he didn’t have to spend a few hours working before relaxing upstairs with Lydia.
Fortunately much of the stable was filled with junk, the same as most people’s basements. Just because it was old didn’t make it valuable junk—a lot of people came to his shop thinking old equaled valuable. They often thought he was trying to rip them off.
He locked the stable door, knowing if Lydia sold she was going to have to make the decision about whether to keep or discard. Just because it wasn’t valuable didn’t mean there wasn’t sentimental value. There were old dolls in a box that had probably belonged to Lydia’s mother. While he’d found a brush with a tarnished mirrored back, it wasn’t the Window. It would have been much easier to find if he could sense it… but then all fairies would have been able to and it would have fallen into a Grey’s hands long ago.
Lydia stuck her head out the back door. “Pizza is here.”
“Okay, I’m done.” He went in and washed his hands.
They ate at the table that had seen many morning afters and a few rendezvous. He tried not to think about what people had done on the table as he ate. Across from him Lydia concentrated on her food.
“I opened the second trunk. You might want to log the crystal, plates, and silver candle holders.”
He glanced at the trunk, now closed, hopefully. “What else was in there?”
“A wedding dress.”
“She packed away her dress and wedding presents?”
Lydia nodded and picked up a photo she’d hidden on the seat. It was beautifully framed. The couple smiled surrounded by the bridal party. She handed it to him and he braced for the flood of memories. The stronger the emotion the greater the residual impression. The first ones were of great sadness and tears as everything was packed away, anger lingered underneath, but beneath that there was great joy.
He put the picture on the table so they could both see Nanette Callaway. “Have you solved the mystery?”
She nodded and swallowed what she’d been eating. “While most people know that Callaway House was making liquor during Prohibition, that isn’t the full story. The reason Mr. Callaway Senior got involved in liquor was because he liked to gamble. The debt was huge apparently and his son inherited it with the house. Apparently old Charleston blood doesn’t forgive and forget some debts. Which was fine while he was alive and earning an officer’s salary.”
“But once he died—”
“Gran either had to give up the house to pay the debt or find a way to keep going.”
Caspian frowned. “Why didn’t she sell?” Surely that was the easy option.
“The house was all she had left of her husband and child. Their little daughter died while he was away fighting. She couldn’t give up the only home she’d known, the place that still held their memories.”
“The outbuildings had already been sold?” Caspian asked.
Lydia nodded. “Callaway Senior sold them along with some of the land. This used to be a proper farm. What my grandfather inherited was a reduced property and a big debt. Gran was working in a factory to help with the war, barely getting by and someone—she doesn’t say who, just calls him the doctor—asked if she’d be willing to let his
“And no one said anything?”
Lydia shook her head. “Rich men had mistresses and stashing them out here away from town made it easy. Gran took board and lodging money and also put on the parties. That was when the poets, painters, and musicians got involved.”
“Ah, and then its reputation really took off.”
She grinned. “And then some. Apparently they had to turn people away because the house was too full.”
“Did she pay the debt off?”
“Yep. By then she had an established business as a mistress hotel and a bit of an exclusive club.”
“Until mistresses went out of favor.”
“Actually, that didn’t seem to dampen things. By then it was the sixties and the parties just kept rolling. I think some of the women who lived here were making money upstairs… but Gran never says that directly.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at him for confirmation.
“Yeah. There was a lot of action upstairs but without spending a lot of time digging I wouldn’t be able to separate it out—I don’t want to do that. That’s people’s private lives.” He grimaced. What he could do wasn’t normal and he didn’t want to be peering into the raunchy bits of history. “But I’d say your suspicions are correct.”
She gave a single nod as if happy to be unraveling her family history. He knew his, both fairy and human, but couldn’t be open about it. Or at least hadn’t been able to be open until Lydia. He picked up another slice of pizza and waited for her to continue. It was so rare he actually got the full story instead of just the highlights as impressed upon the furniture or as seen by mirrors.
He stopped before taking a bite and realized what had been missing from his visit tonight. The house had been silent. “Where’s your ghost gone?”
“What do you mean? I thought you said it wasn’t a ghost?” But now she was sitting up listening, the past forgotten.
“It’s not. But I haven’t heard it all night… in fact, I haven’t sensed a single thing.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No. Your ghost has been here for years. Why leave now?”
They both went silent. All Caspian could hear was the beating of his heart. The Grey that had been in the house was gone. Had Dylis scared it away? Had Shea scared it away or had it found what it was looking for?
“Where’s your fairy?”
“She’s working, trying to help find the mirror.”
“Ah.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I’m now creeped out because there isn’t a ghost in the house.”
He flicked her a smile. “It’s odd, that’s all.” And he didn’t like odd as there was usually a reason and it wasn’t usually a good reason when it came to fairies. “No reason not to stay.” Staying here was more enticing than going back to his house where Shea could be lurking. Although at least his house was protected by the silver tea set. Maybe it would be smarter to go back to his place. He met Lydia’s gaze and held it. “Unless you’d rather go back into town, you could always come to my place?”
There was a pause and for a moment he thought he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have. Callaway House was like neutral ground. She didn’t live here, so the only impressions he got of her were recent or so old it didn’t matter. Knowing his lover had had previous lovers was very different from getting glimpses of them. It happened all through his twenties until he married. It made dating difficult—and dating was hard enough. Or maybe he’d just never been good at it. Fairies didn’t seem to date, so maybe there was a bad dating gene he’d inherited.
“As tempting as that is, I’m not going to be chased out of the house because there are no fairies tonight. Last night there were too many, tonight not enough. I feel like Goldilocks.”
He laughed.
“Have you always seen fairies?” Lydia asked.
“Yes. I thought it was normal until I was about five. After that I tried to pretend I couldn’t see them. Sometimes not very well.”
“And the psychometry?”
He frowned. “I was still a child, maybe ten. At first it was small things. But I went through a really bad phase of being sucked into visions and not knowing how to get out. My mother freaked, my father thought I was daydreaming and didn’t get it. My brother used to tease me mercilessly. Dylis helped me.”
