Then he started walking across the room to her, but the air was suddenly filled with flying bones. They were everywhere, like a gauntlet of flying ribs and femurs.
She leapt up and tried to reach him, but all she could see were the bones…
It was a dream, of course—nothing but a dream—and she wanted out.
She woke up, her eyes flying open while the rest of her felt almost paralyzed for a moment, and realized it was daytime. Despite the drapes in her windows, sunlight was filtering through.
She groaned, then rose and looked at her watch. Eight o’clock. Breakfast would be on the table in thirty minutes, and it would be large and elegant. Bertie served fruit, juice, a selection of main dishes, and a wide selection rolls and breads, along with butter and homemade jams. Most of the B&Bs in town prided themselves on their breakfasts, and the Tropic Breeze was no different. She used good china, silverware, and eclectic but elegant serving pieces. Somehow she managed to pull it all together seven days a week, though it helped that she paid her employees so well that every college student in the area was happy to help her. They began work at six, getting coffee out for six-thirty, and they had breakfast all cleaned up by ten, so they could head to class.
Sarah knew all that because, years ago, she had been one of those college students, having gotten the jobs thanks to her parents’ friendship with Bertie.
But now she was a guest, so after a quick shower to wash away the uneasiness the dream had left in its wake, she neatly repacked, having decided that, as much as she loved Bertie, she was moving back home.
Bertie had refused to let her pay for her room, which made her feel guilty, and she had the carriage house, after all. She could live there while the academics and the authorities tramped through the mansion. She could keep an eye on everything going on, but she wouldn’t have to deal with the mess—or the creepiness. She should have thought of it the night before. No, she’d been too upset last night; it was good that she’d spent the night elsewhere.
She thought about the dream from which she’d forced herself to waken. Strange. Though no stranger than yesterday’s real-world events. She had been able to escape from the dream, but she wasn’t going to be so lucky when it came to reality. Her house was going to be filled with strangers for the foreseeable future. Her carefully thought-out plan to get her own B&B started was going straight to hell.
It was, she reflected as she left the room, strange that all her friends had turned into skeletons in the dream, while Caleb Anderson had remained flesh and blood—and ready to come to her rescue.
“Morning!” Bertie called to her cheerfully as she walked into the dining room. The older woman was in the process of refilling the old Russian samovar she used for regular coffee. “How did you sleep, dear?” Bertie asked.
“Like a baby,” Sarah lied. “Can I help?”
“No, but thank you for offering. Help yourself to breakfast, and let me know if there’s something special you want to see on tomorrow’s menu. You are staying tonight, too, right?”
“You know what? Thank you so much, Bertie, but no, I’m going to go home tonight.”
“What?” Bertie demanded, aghast. “But, Sarah—”
“It’s okay, honestly. It’s not like I’ll be sleeping with the skeletons, so don’t worry. Anyway, I have the carriage house. It’s all set up and ready to roll. I’m so grateful to you for making room for me last night, but I’d rather stick close to home in my carriage house until all those people clear out of my house.”
“The dead as well as the living, huh?” Bertie said, shaking her head. “I still wish you’d stay here with me, Sarah.”
“You’re a sweetheart. And you know I’ll run back here in a second flat if I decide I can’t hack it staying in the carriage house anymore.”
“You’re always welcome here, Sarah, you know that,” Bertie told her. “You still have that key I gave you in case of emergencies, right? If you get scared at any time, day or night, I want you to remember that you have a place here.”
“I know, and I’m grateful.”
Sarah gave Bertie a hug and sat down next to a family of four who introduced themselves as the Petersons. The twelve-year-old daughter seemed to be going on twenty. The son, who was ten, seemed to be going on four.