“Turner,” echoed Tess. “Who’s that?”
“That cretino was a guest of mine last summer who chose not to follow Hamlet’s rules of hospitality.”
Tess remembered her conversation with Deputy Collins only that morning. Though it felt like a million years separated the Tess from before she found Jack and after, the deputy’s deep, resonant voice stuck in her brain. “‘Hamlet helps’,” she said.
“In Turner’s case, it was more like help yourself. Ugh. Like I said, cretino. An outsider. Not too bad looking. He insisted on paying up front, renting the biggest room in all of Ophelia. I gave him the Blue Room—except he mustn’t have liked it much since he didn’t stay inside.”
Her whole expression darkened as if remembering something unpleasant. Something that made her furious.
“You don’t have to—”
Maria refused to take Tess’s offer of an out. She waved the other woman’s concerns away. “Everyone knows. You might as well, sweetie. You see, I woke up when Turner tried to climb in my bed. I might’ve thought it was an accident if he hadn’t tried to cover my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I didn’t have locks then, but there was one thing I did have. I've always kept a baseball bat by my nightstand. When a girl with nothing to lose starts swinging like she’s Babe Ruth, most fellas don’t linger. Turner didn’t.
“Lucas insisted I close up my B&B, and I went along with it.” Maria’s eyes lit up. “I missed running this place. Ophelia, she's my heart, mia cuore.” She paused, seeing something in Tessa’s sudden surprise that caught her attention. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. I just… never mind. Just listening. Please, go on.”
Maria nodded. “Yes, well, what happened with Turner… it spooked me, not going to lie. Getting the locks helped. The year off helped. Now it’s time to bring life back to my Ophelia. I’m so very glad you’re my guest, Mrs. Sullivan.”
So busy trying to pay attention to what Maria was telling her, the pang at being called by Jack’s name was more of a sting this time. It obviously took a lot out of her hostess to share her tale. Though her head was fuzzy, terrible images and horrible guilt trying to sneak back in, Tess was determined to understand.
When she did, she recoiled.
“You’re telli
ng me that this guy, this Turner guy snuck into your room?” Tess covered her mouth with her hands, breathing out strangled words around her fingers. A chill skittered up her spine.
Sneaking into a room, rope in hand, a dead man in bed—
“When you were sleeping?” Her voice rose. Her face paled. “Here?”
Maria, realizing her mistake moments too late, quickly waved her arms in front of her. “No, no, it’s not like that. You don’t have to worry about him coming back. They found him the next morning. His truck, it flipped over into the gulley on his way out of town and, dio mio, I’m not helping, am I?” She cringed when she saw the look of horror on Tessa’s colorless face. “Whoopsie. Scusa. I’m so sorry.”
It took her a second to push past the memories. Then, after another moment, one where she vividly remembered the bottomless valley Jack nearly drove them into when they first arrived in Hamlet, Tess finally recovered enough from her shock to say weakly, “Well, I’m definitely onboard with the locks now.”
Four hours later, after dinner had been cleared away and the locks engaged at nine on the dot like Maria promised, Tess hadn’t changed her mind. Though it bothered her that she was basically locked in a pretty, pretty cage, she felt a lot better knowing that the bars served to keep others out far more than to trap her in.
To be fair, her room in Ophelia was gorgeous. Maria called it the Lavender Room. She wasn’t wrong. The walls were painted with the pale purple color, trimmed with a white border. The bedspread was lavender. The lampshade was lavender. The shag carpet was cream-colored, the wooden furniture a deep mahogany; the neutral colors made the purple pop all the more. A purple, white and grey vase was centered on the matching mahogany nightstand. Plastic flowers were artistically arranged inside the vase. They were, of course, lavenders.
An oversized window took up one wall and peered out onto the street in front of Ophelia. A pale purple scalloped valance stretched across the top, with a cream-colored window blind covering the rest of the wide length.
On the other side of the room, a closed door with the same matching ornamental L painted on it caught her attention. The design was lovely, simple at first glance until Tess got closer and realized it was drawn by hand in paint the same shade as the wall. Behind the door, a pristine white bathroom beckoned her.
The only spot of color she saw in the bathroom was the lavender shower curtain pulled taut across the tub. When Tess carried her duffel bag into the cozy room and yanked the curtain back, she let out a soft chuckle. Maria had placed purple anti-slip discs cut in the shape of flowers on the floor of the tub.
No matter her mood, Tess had to appreciate the level of dedication and attention to detail in Ophelia’s master.
Despite the fact that she was obviously the first guest in some time, the water fell from the square-shaped shower head fast and hot. The pounding on her back gave her some relief. For a few stolen minutes, she let all of her worries and fears flow off of her with the shower spray. She imagined the day’s horrors swirling down the drain with the bubbles of her body wash.
When the water went from soothing to chilly, Tess realized it was time to focus on what was next. She couldn’t stay in the shower unless she wanted to drown herself. Even in her thoughts, that wasn’t any kind of legitimate option. She’d come too far to give up so easily now.
Instead, she got out of the shower and dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats that still carried the scent of home on them. Breathing in deep, it was a fierce ache that made her press her hands to her chest. She wished like hell that she was home.
But she wasn’t. Everything in the room, from the precise decorations to the soft feel of the full bed, was a constant reminder that she was far from the cramped bedroom she had shared with Jack in their tiny apartment.
Maybe that was a good thing, she realized as she slipped beneath the lavender and cream-colored quilt. Lying next to his empty place, reaching out for a sleeping body she could no longer touch, surrounded by his things… she couldn’t stand it.
She could never have gone back to the hotel room where he died, either. She was so grateful that Lucas brought her to this place, and Maria was putting her up in her bed and breakfast.