The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

He swiped at his eyes as if he’d been crying and paced back and forth very quickly. After a minute, he seemed to calm himself down, and then he headed toward the house.

Sarah emerged from the curtain and then stepped down from the chair, processing what she’d seen. Her imagination ran wild, but she attempted to keep it in check. He was a groundskeeper, so being covered in dirt and dragging around a shovel was hardly anything to trigger accusations. She plunked the sponge into the bucket and returned to work.

Everything was rewashed, and Sarah paid particular attention to the cushions, which she removed and cycled through with a load of laundry. While they washed, she ticked off a list of items needing repair to hand over to Dennis, and then she took her lunch break.

She entered the kitchen warily, wanting to avoid any run-ins with Dennis, and when she determined that the coast was clear, she made herself a grilled cheese, which she paired with a can of tomato soup.

But with all of the kitchen’s modern updates, she still found no microwave. “Of course.” She sighed and then turned on the gas burners and found a pot in one of the lower cupboards. She found an old wooden spoon to stir the red sauce in the pot, and she munched on some grapes while the soup heated.

“What’s for lunch?”

Startled, Sarah spun around, clutching her chest, finding Kegan smirking. “Is that just how you greet people? Scaring the shit out of them?”

“At least I kept my distance this time.” Kegan stood at the kitchen’s entrance and eyed the spoon in her hand. “Think you could set that down before you decide to hurt me with it?”

Sarah tossed the spoon back into the pot and then opened cabinets.

“Bowls are at the end,” Kegan said, pointing to the last cupboard above the stove, then sat at the table. He smiled, that natural, easygoing charm on display. He reminded Sarah of the football players from her high school. All confidence and no substance. “So how are things working out for you here?”

“Fine.” Sarah kept her back to him.

“Good, good.” Kegan rubbed his hands together. “Any constructive feedback you’d like to suggest to management to improve your work environment?”

Sarah poured the soup from the pot to her bowl, careful not to spill and burn herself. When she was done, she turned and lifted the pot so Kegan could see. “Get a microwave.” She tossed the pot into the sink and then grabbed her grilled cheese.

“Good to know,” Kegan said.

Sarah passed Kegan, and was almost free when he called out to her.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” Kegan said. “I spoke to the maid who woke you up. It won’t happen again.”

“How many people work here anyway?” Sarah asked.

“What’s going on here?” Iris appeared at the kitchen’s entrance, her nose turned up at the sight of her grandson mingling with the help. But the sneer was made impotent by the seven layers of makeup on her face.

“Morning, Grandmother.” Kegan spoke sweetly and smiled widely.

Iris grunted and then regarded Sarah and her lunch. “Hurry up and finish that, so you can get back to work. Clock is ticking, my dear.”

Sarah repressed the urge to respond and instead decided to take her lunch to her room. But before she made it up the staircase, she heard Iris and Kegan arguing. She stopped, curious to hear what they were saying, and crept back toward the kitchen’s entrance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Iris asked, her voice an angry whisper.

“I’m just being friendly, Grandma,” Kegan answered. “There’s no crime in that.”

“I don’t want you getting close to her, understand? You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. The last thing you need is some tramp to slip into your bed.”

Kegan laughed. “You’re being a little over—”

A harsh slap ended Kegan’s reply.

“You have a job to do, and she will only provide a distraction. You hear me?”

At the sound of Iris’s shuffling footsteps, Sarah sprinted soundlessly up the carpeted grand staircase before Iris saw her.

61

The end of the day came quickly, and when Iris never showed up to assess Sarah’s work, she retired to her room.

Once she was undressed and showered, Sarah caught a look out the window of the dying evening light over the mountains to the west. It was golden and beautiful, and a stark contrast from the old, stuffy house that she had been cooped up inside for the past two days.

She needed a break.

Sarah donned her Carhartt jacket, along with her scarf, before stepping out of her room. The bruises were still visible, and she didn’t want to call any more attention to herself.

Outside, the air was crisp, and the temperature plummeted with the sunset, which left streaks of pinks and purples in the sky as the town of Bell transitioned into nightfall.

Sarah flipped up the collar of her jacket, guarding her cheeks from the stiff wind blowing in from the north, reminding her of her disdain for the coming season.

For Sarah, winter had always been associated with death. It withered everything that was green and turned nature brittle and skittish, weeding out the weak and old, burying them under freezing sheets of snow.

And her parents had died in winter.

But this winter, somewhere out in the growing cold, was a man who wanted her dead. He was as relentless as the Grim Reaper himself, and she’d be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her days.

A few cars were still parked outside the buildings on either side of the street on Bell’s main drag. They must have belonged to people just finishing up their workdays.

Sarah veered toward the burned-down church, kicking at an old piece of wood before peering through the windows of the small grocery and hardware store before heading across the road.

The first store on the other side was the diner, followed by an accountant’s office, a doctor’s office, an antique shop, and finally, an empty building with a “for