Claimed by a Cowboy. Tanya Michaels

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      Chapter Three

      Lorelei hung up the phone with a sigh and glanced across the kitchen. Ava was stocking the refrigerator with all manner of casseroles and comfort foods. Judging by the dozens of containers she’d arrived with an hour ago, she’d been cooking nonstop since yesterday.

       “That was the last one,” Lorelei said wearily. She’d gone through her mom’s reservation file at the computer and called to cancel all the guests scheduled for the following week. After that… Well, surviving this week was the first step.

       Lorelei didn’t really know what she would do about the inn. She supposed hiring someone to manage it for her was a possibility, but she’d never really warmed to this place. When her mother—who’d worked previous jobs as a cook in another hotel and an administrative assistant in the town tourism bureau—first said she wanted to open her own inn, Lorelei had thought it would be a good fit for her, assuming Wanda could get the necessary loans. Ever since her husband’s death, Wanda had slipped into more and more elaborate flights of fancy. She used to wake Lorelei up in the middle of the night to excitedly tell her, “Your daddy visited me again. He’s watching over us, honey, and he’s real proud of you.” Lorelei had wanted to shake her, had wanted to yell at her mother to stop it. It was so hard to let go and heal when Wanda kept his specter alive and well in their home. Lorelei had foolishly presumed that running a business would keep Wanda more grounded.

      Should’ve known better. There were lots of bed-and-breakfasts and guest ranches dotting the Hill Country. Wanda had tried to set hers apart with its theme. Her place served as sort of a museum for Hill Country folklore and ghost stories. Each guest room was based on some local legend.

       For instance, Lorelei’s room, from the comforter printed with running wolves to the hand-carved figures on the wooden vanity, centered on the wolf spirit that “haunted” nearby Devil’s Backbone, an area also rumored to host the apparitions of monks, Native Americans and Confederate soldiers. Sam’s suite was based on the famed Faust Hotel, a historic haunted site, and Wanda had decorated it based on old photos she’d seen of the establishment. The only creepy room was the one based on a cave, in which Wanda had blacked out the windows and bat noises played periodically through a hidden speaker. In addition to the themed decorating, Wanda had also arranged tours that took visitors through the region from one “unexplained phenomenon” to another. And Wanda had always been a hell of a storyteller, probably because she believed the outlandish tales she shared.

       “She’ll be missed,” one of the scheduled guests had told Lorelei, choked up by the news that the inn’s proprietor had died. “My husband and I came to the Haunted Hill Country every year for our anniversary, and we just loved Wanda. Your mother was a special woman.”

       Ava came toward her with two cups of coffee. “You look like you could use some.” Then she reached into a cabinet beneath the counter and procured a bottle of whiskey. “And maybe a shot of this with it.”

       Lorelei gave a dry laugh. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she appreciated the thought. “Thanks, Ava.”

       “Least I can do.” Ava slid her glasses up on her nose with a finger. “I wish you had let me help with those calls. You didn’t have to take care of them alone. Can’t be easy to tell people over and over that your mama’s gone.”

       “I wanted to.” Saying it forced her to accept it. Running from the truth wouldn’t change it. “I needed to be doing something, keeping busy.”

       Ava cast a sheepish look over her shoulder, at the crammed full refrigerator. “Guess I can understand that.”

       Lorelei poured a modest token shot into her coffee and raised her eyebrows questioningly at Ava, who nodded and pushed her own mug across the counter.

       “Hit me, barkeep.” Ava waited for her own more generous slug, then stirred cream into both mugs with a cinnamon stick.

       Lorelei inhaled deeply. Her mug smelled like heaven. “Ava, can I ask you a…delicate question?”

       The older woman nodded, her faded grey eyes earnest. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other in the years since you got your degree, but Wanda was the closest thing I ever had to a sister. I’d be honored if you thought of me as kin.”

       “Was there something romantic going on between Mom and Sam Travis?”

       Ava spluttered, choking on coffee.

       “Sorry.” Lorelei handed her a couple of napkins, feeling guilty as Ava continued to cough.

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