Page 8 of Is Anyone Listening?
After a glass of wine and some delicious cheese and crackers, I started to feel more relaxed. "I needed this," I said.
"You do seem less tense. What did you think about your grandmother?"
"Don't call her that with people around," I said in a hushed voice, my tension returning.
"Sorry. What did you think of Ellen?"
"She was polite but not that friendly. She doesn't have the usual warm, outgoing inn owner personality."
"No, she doesn't. I was a little surprised." Tessa paused. "Maybe she recognized you, and that's why it felt awkward. She was waiting for you to say something."
"She could have said something if that was the case." I shook my head. "I don't think she recognized me. She didn't even flinch when I said my first name."
"Well, something seemed off."
"She might know something about our podcast. Maybe that's why she was guarded, why she warned us about taking photos inside. I guess we'll find out at some point."
Tessa nodded. "The guy who took our bags looked like a bouncer at a bar."
"And was also not that friendly. But we should try to talk to him tomorrow."
"Agreed." Tessa bit back a yawn at the end of her sentence. "I'm tired. I know it's early, but I want to take a bath and then get into bed. I'll have more energy tomorrow to get going on our investigation."
"Me, too. Let's go upstairs and check out our rooms."
Tessa poured herself another glass of wine, taking it with her, as we made our way back through the living room and up the stairs. When we reached the third-floor landing, I saw a woman entering a room at the far end of the hall. She was dressed in black jeans and a black sweater, and as she gave us a startled look, I caught a glimpse of her face. She was very pale, and she looked scared.
Before I could say anything, she opened her door and slipped inside.
I gave Tessa a questioning look.
She shrugged. "Maybe she just didn't feel like saying hello. Sometimes, I don't like talking to other people when I'm tired, which is one reason I don't usually stay at bed-and-breakfasts. Guests generally like to chat."
"True."
We paused in front of our respective doors. I felt reluctant to say goodnight. But Tessa, who was craving a night in a room without roommates, was eagerly unlocking her door, happy with our new arrangements, so I simply gave her a smile and said, "Sleep well."
"You, too. What time do you want to start?"
"Eight?"
She frowned. "I'm pretty beat. Let's do nine. We can get breakfast and figure out what to do first."
"Okay. See you in the morning." I slipped my key into the lock and turned the knob.
As I stepped into the room, the darkness unnerved me, and I quickly found the switch. As light warmed the room, I felt a little less uneasy. The room was charming, with a rustic wood-framed double bed and matching nightstands. A small desk and dresser were along the wall next to the entrance to the bathroom.
Letting out a breath that I felt like I'd been holding forever, I walked over to the window to pull the curtains. It was dark and foggy outside, and the window was so wet I couldn't see anything but condensation. Maybe that was good. I was too stressed out by everything; I didn't need a spooky landscape to add to my tension.
Closing the curtains, I sat down on the bed, thinking about my grandmother. It didn't appear that she'd recognized my name, which probably meant she'd never heard anything about me. Maybe she didn't even know she had a granddaughter. My father had left when he was eighteen, and he'd told me he hadn't had any contact with her since.
When I'd asked how he'd managed to survive without any parental support, he'd admitted that he'd had ten thousand dollars in a savings account that his father had started when he was born. He'd used that to pay for his first year of college, but he'd also worked while going to school. He was very proud of having made all his own money, and over the years, he'd created a great deal of wealth for himself.
I'd benefited as well. I'd grown up with privilege, and he'd paid for my college, but that's where it had ended. He'd always believed that I should make my own money, too. I just wasn't as good at that as he was.
But I'd get there. I wasn't going to ask him for help unless I was destitute, although that moment might not be too far away if I couldn't turn this podcast into a moneymaker.
Taking out the file I'd put together last night, I went over my notes and the list I'd begun making as to who we should talk to.
