The Bookstore at Holiday Bay: Once Upon a Snowy Night

Book 6: The Bookstore at Holiday Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery

Synopsis

An isolated mountain lodge, twelve writers on retreat, a killer amongst them, and no way to contact the local authorities until the storm of the century passes.

When Lou Prescott bought the bookstore at Holiday Bay, she wanted it to be so much more than a quaint seaside business. She wanted it to be home to the cozy gathering of friends, she knew in her heart, would come together to share their lives, their hardships, and their victories.

In book 6 in the series, Lou is invited by good friend Abby Sullivan to co-host a writer's retreat in an isolated hunting and fishing lodge off the beaten path. Lou and Abby, along with helpers Georgia and Velma, think they've done everything they needed to do to host the twelve writers for a week of creativity and workshops, but what they couldn't have prepared for was the death of one of the writers during what turned out to be the biggest blizzard in decades.

 

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Release date: January 7, 2025

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Print pages: 152

Sample

Chapter 1

“You must be Lou Prescott and Velma Crawford,” a petite young woman with natural auburn
curls cascading down her back concluded when Velma and I approached the check-in desk at the
Moose Lake Lodge.
“We are,” I answered, pausing to take in the rustic yet elegant log structure. “We’re supposed
to meet Abby Sullivan and Georgia Carter-Peyton.”
“Abby and Georgia are in the kitchen putting supplies away. Abby asked that I greet you and
show you to your rooms. Once you’ve settled in, you can return to the lobby and find me. I’ll
give you a tour of the lodge and then take you to the kitchen.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” I agreed, setting my duffle bag on the floor beside my foot.
“My name is Francis, but everyone calls me Frankie,” the petite woman informed us as she
made a note in her ledger. “My husband, Ricky, and I take care of the place.”
“So you live here on the property?” Velma asked.
She nodded. “We have an apartment behind the kitchen.” She began sorting through the keys
she’d piled on the counter. “It’s tiny but adequate for our needs at this point in our lives.” She
held up two keys. “I have you in rooms 103 and 104. Abby is in room 101, and Georgia is in
room 102. As you might guess, all four rooms are on the first floor. If you’ll follow me, I’ll help
you get settled.”
Velma and I each picked up the duffle bags, purses, and suitcases we’d brought since it didn’t
appear that a bellman was available. Not that we expected any help with our bags. Abby had
already explained that the Moose Lake Lodge operated as a seasonal lodge and was usually
closed during the winter. Apparently, Abby’s agent, Kate, knows the lodge’s owner, so when the
publishing house Abby works for needed a scenic and isolated location for a writers’ retreat, the
lodge owner had been approached with the idea of a mid-winter booking. He’d agreed to the
request as long as it was understood that no guest services would be provided.

“I love the fact that the lodge has the feel of a log cabin,” Velma said as we followed Frankie
through the lounge, which featured large sectional sofas, floor-to-ceiling windows with views of
the lake and mountains, and a three-story river rock fireplace with logs the size of small trees.
“The logs used to build the lodge were locally sourced,” Frankie informed us. “The building,
in fact, is unique in that all the materials used in its construction were sourced right here in
Maine.”
“The place is stunning,” I commented as we passed a wall of windows overlooking a snow-
covered meadow. “And this really is the perfect location for our retreat. So cozy and isolated.
Just the sort of place where a person can think and create.”
“It is a pretty perfect place to be with your thoughts if that’s what you’re after,” Frankie
agreed.
Velma shifted her computer bag on her shoulder as we continued across the main story of the
lodge. “I know the lodge is normally closed at this time of the year. I hope our intrusion hasn’t
caused too much of a burden for you and your husband.”
“Not at all. I don’t mind the quiet in the winter. In fact, it’s a nice change from the hectic
nature of the summer and fall months. But I’m excited to have the writers here. I hope to pick up
a few tips during the week.”
“Do you write?” I asked.
She lifted one shoulder. “If you’re asking if I’m a writer, no. I’ve never come close to
publishing anything, but I enjoy exploring the stories that unfold in my mind during those rare
times when the opportunity to slow down enough to listen presents itself. Not that my daydreams
are all that special, but since I have lots of free time over the winter, I’ve written a few ideas
down in my journals.” The woman stopped in front of room 104. She used the key to open the
door, and then she handed it to Velma. “Velma, you’ll be in here. Go ahead and settle in, and
when you’re ready for a tour of the place, meet me back in the lobby.” The woman stepped
across the hallway, opened that door, and handed me the key. “And Lou, you’re in room 103.”
Velma and I thanked the woman, and then we each entered our room. The view from my side
of the hallway looked out over a frozen lake surrounded by a densely wooded forest. I knew a
drop-off was located at the front of the property, which provided a view of the valley. I imagined
that the even-numbered rooms on this floor enjoyed that view. A view of the valley would be
magnificent, especially if there were moody skies, but I was pretty sure I would take the view of
the lake if given a choice.
Setting my suitcase on the king-sized bed, I walked to the window for a better look. The sky
was dark today, although it wasn’t currently snowing. Snow was forecasted for much of this
week, but the slow-moving storm hadn’t made its way this far north. I stared at the frozen lake
and thought about my life in Minnesota before moving to Maine. My husband, Gus, and I had
loved ice skating when the little lake on our property froze over. I hadn’t been ice skating once
since moving to Maine following my husband’s death and wondered if I should have brought my
skates to use while I was here.
Moving from the window, I returned to my suitcase and began unpacking. The room featured
a hardwood armoire as well as a large closet. I hung anything that would wrinkle in the closet
and then stored the rest in drawers. Once I grabbed my smaller toiletries bag, I headed to the

enormous bathroom to put everything away. The area featured a bathtub near a window that
looked out over the forest and a shower with two shower heads. The countertops were granite
and featured double sinks. Between the luxurious bathroom and gas fireplace on the wall
opposite the bed, the room provided a romantic feel, which suddenly had me wishing I was here
with someone special.
Velma and I had agreed to meet in the hallway at two-thirty. Since it was only two-fifteen, I
decided it would be the perfect time to call my friend, Beck Cage, and let him know I’d arrived
safely. Beck and his dog, Meatball, were cat-sitting my orange feline, Toby, while I was away.
We’d decided to close Firehouse Books, the bookstore Velma and I co-owned and operated, but
our full-time employee, Eden Halliwell, and part-time employee, Joy Christenson, had agreed to
meet a few times during the week to take care of both the deep cleaning and the annual
inventory.
“Hey, darlin’,” Beck greeted. “Did you and Velma make it okay?”
“We did. The drive was gorgeous, and the lodge is absolutely stunning. I think you’d like it.
The three-story building is made from locally sourced logs, and my room even has a fireplace.
While I have only seen my room, which possesses a woodsy yet elegant feel, it gives the
impression that every room here might feature a fireplace.”
“Gas or wood?”
“The huge fireplace in the lounge uses real wood logs. The fireplace in my room is gas.” I
glanced out the window. “I have a gorgeous view of a frozen lake. It reminds me of my life in
Minnesota, where I lived on property featuring a private lake that would freeze in the winter.”
“Sounds like an opportunity to ice skate or maybe ice fish. Do you happen to know if the
lake has fish?”
I sat down on the corner of the bed. “I didn’t ask. This particular lodge is normally closed in
the winter, so I don’t think staying here to do some ice fishing would work, but other properties
in the area might be open during the winter and offer winter sports and pastimes. I’ll ask Frankie
the next time I see her.”
“Frankie?”
“Frankie is a very nice woman, who, along with her husband, Ricky, who I haven’t met yet,
are caretakers for the property. Apparently, they live here year-round and keep an eye on things.”
“Sounds like a lonely life in the winter.”
“Yes, I suppose it might be, although Frankie did say that she’s spent some time writing
down story ideas, and a winter spent with the man I loved in an isolated lodge with all the
amenities really doesn’t sound all that bad.”
Beck chuckled. “Actually, now that you put it that way, a winter in the wilderness doesn’t
sound that bad at all.”
“How’s everything in Holiday Bay?” I supposed I could explore the idea of a romantic
getaway in the middle of nowhere a little further since the subject had come up, but I found
myself shying away from moving the friendship I shared with Beck to a more intimate level. It
had been three years since Gus had died, and many friends felt that I had grieved long enough

and really ought to move on, but when it came down to making that step, I guess I just wasn’t
ready.
“Everything is good. Colt has a new case he’s asked me to help with since Alex is off this
weekend and Brax is busy with all the routine stuff.”
Colt Wilder was Holiday Bay’s police chief and Abby’s guy friend. Alex Weston was Colt’s
second-in-command, and Brax Baker was the third member of Colt’s team.
I knew that Beck, a retired detective turned private investigator, enjoyed helping Colt with
his cases whenever Colt asked. “I don’t have much time right now since I’m supposed to meet
Velma in a few minutes, but I want to hear about the case. Can I call you back later?”
“That would be fine. I don’t know much about the case, but I’m meeting with Colt in an
hour, so I’ll have some details by the time we speak next.”
I glanced at the bedside clock. I really did need to hang up. “Before I go, I wanted to ask
about Toby. How’s he settling in?”
“Toby is doing just fine. At first, he was a little thrown about the venue change, but he seems
to have found his special place to nap and appears content now. I chatted with Andy and Eli
when I stopped to pick up Toby’s cat food.” He referred to Andy and Eli Anderson, brothers who
owned the deli in the same grouping of businesses where I owned my bookstore. “They assured
me that Houdini is fine as well.”
Houdini was more of a courtyard cat than a personal cat. While he did usually live with me
since my apartment was right above my bookstore, he spent his days visiting all the business
owners who had shops in the courtyard and was considered by everyone to be a communal cat.
“That’s wonderful,” I replied. “I do worry about those cats. I’ll call you after we’re done here
for the day. If, for some reason, that doesn’t work out, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it. Have fun this week, and try to relax. I know you’re there to help Abby
with the writers, but it’s been a while since you had much time to yourself.”
I loved that Beck knew me well enough to know that time to myself was exactly what I
needed. “I plan to take it easy and enjoy myself,” I assured him. “The lodge is gorgeous, and it’s
so peaceful out here. It’s the perfect setting to merely sit and get in touch with my thoughts.”
After I hung up, I headed to the hallway. Velma was coming out of her room. As I expected,
it appeared that her room had a view of the valley, which was nice, but I really preferred my
view of the lake.
“So, what do you think of your room?” I asked Velma.
“It’s exceptional. So warm and cozy. The perfect place to merely sit and think if sitting and
thinking is what one might be inclined to do.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I know we’re here to help Abby with her retreat, but I hope
we’ll have some time to ourselves. I’d love to merely curl up by the fire and read.”
“I think we’ll have time to ourselves. Abby mentioned that part of each day will be reserved
for writing, so once the authors go off to dig into their creation, you and I should have time to
relax.”

As she promised, Frankie was waiting for us in the lobby. She gave us a tour of the first floor,
which included the kitchen and dining room, a laundry, a game room, the lounge, a bar that
would be perfect for evening cocktails, and a single hallway with four guest rooms, which had
been assigned to Abby, Georgia, Velma, and me.
The second and third floors each featured eight rooms and a common area where guests
could gather to enjoy each other’s company. The common area on the second floor was more of a
conference room, whereas the one on the third floor was smaller and more intimate.
After the tour, Frankie led us to the large conference room on the second floor. Abby and
Georgia had finished in the kitchen and were busy stuffing information packets and comparing
the spelling on nametags to the registration packets.
“You made it,” Abby said, stepping forward for a hug. “Did Frankie show you to your
rooms?”
“She did,” Velma answered. “And they’re gorgeous.”
“We really did luck out with this venue,” Georgia said. “It’s isolated, so I guess there is some
risk of losing internet service, but it’s so quiet and peaceful.”
“Have all twelve authors confirmed?” I asked Abby.
She handed Velma and me each a list of names with room numbers. “All twelve have
confirmed, and everyone will check in between one and four tomorrow afternoon. I intend to
review this list with you as soon as we finish here. The information I’m providing will give you
insights into each author’s identity, their literary works, where they live, and other little details
that should help you get acquainted with them. I’ve also put a book written by each author in
your rooms, at least for those who have already published a book. We will have a couple newbies
who are still working on their first novel. You don’t need to read the books I provided, but should
you become curious about a specific author, you can look at what they’ve written.”
It was apparent that Abby had done this before since she seemed to have thought of
everything.
“I guess I’m most curious about the daily schedule,” I said. “When you asked me to help
with this retreat, I was honored to do so, but I’m not sure what I’m expected to do.”
Abby reached into a bag and pulled out another stack of papers. “I also emailed this to each
of you, but, personally, I find that having a physical copy of the syllabus helps me to remember
the details. Plus, you can easily make notes if you want to.”
I looked down at the sheet of paper in my hands. A buffet breakfast would be offered
between eight and nine each morning. There would be a workshop from ten to noon, and then
everyone would break for lunch at noon. The time between one-thirty and four-thirty was set
aside for the authors to write, network, or do whatever they wanted to. Each author was expected
to share a piece of work each day during the morning workshop, so most authors would likely
use this time to prepare their “share” for the following day. If there were authors who preferred
to write after everyone turned in for the night, that was fine, too.
A cocktail hour would begin at five, and dinner would be served at six. Following dinner,
everyone could engage in activities of their choice. It seemed there was time built in throughout

the day to network and create. The pacing was gentle, allowing each author to work on the
project they’d brought and to relax.
“My plan is for Velma to help Georgia with the meals and Lou to help me prepare for and
present the morning workshops,” Abby continued. “The idea behind these retreats is to allow
authors to spend time with other authors in a setting that allows for freedom of thought and
spontaneous discussion. I’ve found that once the creative juices start flowing and ideas are
exchanged and challenged, the content for each morning’s workshop seems to take care of
itself.”
Abby stepped back and looked over the table. She seemed satisfied and suggested we return
to the lounge to sip a glass of wine and enjoy the incredible fire while we reviewed the authors’
bios. It had started to snow while we were in the conference room. The snowfall was light,
merely flurries, but given the indoor-outdoor feel provided by the huge picture windows, it was
enough to provide atmosphere.
“The first name on your author list is Victoria Vandenberg,” I said. “Is the Victoria
Vandenberg on the list the same Victoria Vandenberg whose bestselling novel has been topping
the charts for months?”
“It is,” Abby replied. “Victoria has been publishing for eight years. She is working on her
fifth novel. The first novel met with moderate success, and while the second novel did better, she
seemed to come into her own with her third and fourth novels. When I spoke to Kate this past
summer, she had high hopes for Victoria’s fifth novel, but I guess there have been some conflicts
lately, which Kate is concerned might interfere with Victoria having the launch everyone is
hoping for.”
“Conflicts?” I asked.
“Nothing I can talk about,” Abby responded. “Suffice it to say that Kate thought it would be
a good idea for Victoria to get out and mingle with her fellow authors, hence the invitation to
attend.”
The next name on the list was Kurt Haldeman. “I’m not familiar with Kurt Haldeman,” I
said, trying to remember if I’d ever carried a book written by him at the bookstore.
“Kurt Haldeman wrote a bestselling novel when he was only twenty-two. That was eight
years ago, and, like Victoria, he has published four novels since then, all of which have met with
mediocre success. Kurt has been with my publisher since the beginning. The house was thrilled
to sign him to a long-term contract after his first success, but given the so-so sales of the other
four novels in his series, they are toying with the idea of passing on the manuscript he’s been
working on for the last year and a half.”
“Wow. That’s too bad,” Velma said. “I feel for the guy.”
“As do I,” Abby agreed. “I’m sure it’s a tough road to start on top only to slowly fade into
obscurity. I understand why Kurt would prefer to stay with the publishing house where he
enjoyed his heyday, but after reading his current work in progress, his editor came right out and
told him that she was not convinced they should publish it. Kurt offered to do a rewrite, and as
an extra lure, he offered to attend this workshop. His editor, the sympathetic sort, agreed to give
his manuscript another look once he had completed both of those tasks.”

“Why did Kurt’s editor want him to attend a workshop geared to new writers?” Georgia
asked.
Abby replied. “I think Kurt’s editor feels that he still has what it takes to write another
bestseller if he can just get out of his own way. I’ve been told that he’s been overthinking things
since that first success, and getting back to his roots and connecting with the energy that made
his first novel a success in the first place is the only way he’s ever going to write another novel
that sells as well as the first one. Strategically, I’m not sure if asking Kurt to work with newbies
will help him connect with his passion and inner vision, but I suppose it’s worth a try.”
As far as I was concerned, the week had already become more interesting with the
announcement of the first two guests.
“And Hollis Dickenson?” Georgia asked.
Abby responded. “Hollis Dickenson is a new voice in the young adult genre. She has yet to
publish a novel, but Kate and my publisher are excited about her career. Hollis is three-quarters
of the way through a novel that everyone who has read it considers brilliant, but for some reason,
she’s been unable to finish. She’s already been given two extensions, so the publisher is
convinced that having enough time isn’t the issue. Many people have a significant amount of
time invested in this new voice, so Kate suggested that Hollis be included in this week’s retreat.”
Another interesting character, I thought to myself.
Abby continued. “Grant Seymore is an established novelist who has had a modest amount of
success writing historical fiction. He has decided that he wants to get into thrillers since, in his
opinion, that’s where the money is, so he has started a novel that Kate is convinced is going
nowhere. Kate wants Grant to abandon the thriller he started and restart with a different concept,
but Grant is resisting. Kate and Grant’s editor have both told him that publishing his thriller in its
current state isn’t possible, so he agreed to attend the retreat. Technically, Grant’s an established
author and not a newbie, but Kate felt he would benefit from the material we plan to present
since he’s changing genres.”
Georgia asked a question, which Abby took a moment to answer before she moved on to the
next name on the list.
“Poppy Whitmore and Odette Coleman work as a team. They are working on their fifth novel
in a series of six, with an option for three more if the first six do well. The first four met with
moderate success, and each novel seemed to do better than the one that came before it, so Kate
was excited about their long-term prospects.”
“However…” I said.
Abby glanced at me.
“I could sense a ‘however’ coming.”
Abby smiled. “There is a ‘however’ coming. It seems that Poppy and Odette are having
difficulty getting on the same page with this fifth novel. While they each seem to have a clear
vision of where the series should go, their visions don’t seem to line up. There have even been a
few discussions about the possible dissolution of the partnership. Kate invited them to attend this
week in the hope that they could get some feedback from others attending, which Kate hopes
will help them to more clearly define the direction the series should take.”

As far as I was concerned, this group kept getting more interesting.
“Nathan Lively’s first novel is about to be published, and he is hard at work on novel number
two while he waits for the publication date of his first venture to arrive. Unlike the others I’ve
mentioned up to this point, Nathan doesn’t appear to have a specific limitation to overcome.
Although Kate did say that he was nervous about being able to complete the second novel since
the first one turned out so well, and he wasn’t sure he could do it again. Anyone who has been
faced with the task of writing a second novel before the first is even published knows how
daunting the task can be, so Kate figured Nathan would benefit from the encouragement the
other novelists would provide, most of whom have managed to make it through that always
tough second novel.”
“And Astra Ford?” I asked.
“Astra is a ghostwriter turned novelist,” Abby informed us. “Astra is a hard worker with an
abundance of talent, which she’s been using to make others famous, and now she has decided to
focus on her own stories using her own voice.” Abby looked down at her list and continued.
“Gray Woodstone is a new client of Kate’s, as is Wyatt Houston. Gray has been in the business
for a while, but there was a bit of a shakeup at his old publishing house, so he decided to start
something new with a new agent, which is how he connected with Kate. As far as I know, Wyatt
is new to publishing and is just getting started with his first novel. Kate is excited about the
prospects of both men, so she wanted to include them when she made up the list for this retreat.”
“And the last two women?” Georgia asked.
“Liza Bruckheimer has an established career as a romance novelist for a rival publishing
house. She publishes under the name Aurelia Marlow.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of Aurelia Marlow,” I said.
Abby continued. “For reasons I’m not privy to, Liza and her publisher had a falling out and
decided to part ways. Liza signed with my publisher for a book she has pitched but has yet to
write. Her move to a new publishing house seems to have ruffled some feathers in the publishing
industry. I’ve met Liza a few times, and she seems like a nice enough woman, but when it comes
to her career, she can be ruthless.”
Abby looked down at the list. “And last but not least, we have Juno Huckabee. Juno is a
brand-new writer who is working on her first novel. Kate assured me she has a natural instinct
and a fresh voice and will fit in just fine with the more experienced authors invited to attend the
writers’ retreat.”
“It sounds like an intriguing group,” I said. “I can’t wait to meet everyone.”
Abby agreed with my assessment of the group as intriguing, and then the four of us headed
into the kitchen to figure out what to make for dinner. While I looked forward to meeting the
authors who would arrive the following day, I suspected it was this first night with close friends
that I would remember most when I looked back on this backwoods adventure.

Chapter 2

The guests began arriving just about the same time the heavy snow that had been predicted
finally made it north. The group would be here for four nights, and as far as I knew, no one had
plans to go anywhere, so the heavy snow shouldn’t provide much of an issue once everyone
arrived. I’d asked Frankie about the power and the possibility that we might lose it, and she
assured me that while the lodge was equipped with solar panels that provided power when the
lodge was open during the summer months, the facility also had a gas-powered generator and
plenty of fuel on hand to run everything during the winter. Frankie warned us that if the storm
got too bad, it was possible, even likely, that we’d lose cell service and internet.
Frankie and Ricky both showed up to help get the authors checked in. While Velma and I’d
had to carry our own bags, Ricky provided that service for those assigned rooms on the second
and third floors. Georgia and Velma were in the kitchen prepping the evening meal when the
authors arrived, while Abby and I made ourselves available to greet each guest and address their
inquiries.
“I wondered if you could tell me what time dinner will be served,” Astra Ford, who, if I
remembered correctly, was the ghostwriter turned novelist, asked.
“Dinner will be served each evening at six o’clock,” I answered. “Appetizers and cocktails
will be served in the bar starting at five o’clock.” I pointed toward the folder she’d been handed
when she checked in. “The schedule for the week is provided in your welcome packet, but if you
have additional questions or find anything confusing, just ask.”
“Thank you. You’ve been quite helpful.”
Astra frowned when Victoria walked in with Grant Seymore.
“Is there something else I can help you with?” I asked Astra when I noticed the scowl on the
woman’s face.

“No. I’m just surprised to see Victoria here with Grant.” Astra turned and faced me, leaning
in slightly. “I’m not sure how immersed you are in the current publishing culture, but Grant used
to be best friends with a novelist named Gray Woodstone. Victoria and Gray used to be a
couple.” She narrowed her gaze. “Or at least they were lovers.” She tilted her head to the left. “It
ended badly.” She chuckled. “Very badly.” She adjusted the strap on her purse so that it was
centered on her shoulder. “It seems odd that Victoria and Grant would arrive together, given the
history between Victoria and Gray and that Gray and Grant used to be best friends. I wonder if
Gray is going to be here.”
“His name is on the list,” I confirmed. “Perhaps Victoria and Grant didn’t actually come
together. They may have only arrived at the same time and then walked in together.”
She grinned. “Oh, they came together. I don’t know why they came together, but I guarantee
they did. I realize people in our industry tend to couple and uncouple regularly, but Gray seemed
to truly care about Victoria before she dumped him. If you ask me, we’re in for a fair amount of
fireworks once Gray arrives.” She looked down at her room key. “I’m in 207. I don’t suppose
you know if the room is to the right or left once you reach the top of the stairs.”
“It’s to the right, but Ricky is here to help with your luggage if you’d like to have help.”
“No need. I can manage.”
With that, Astra gathered her possessions and headed toward the staircase. As she climbed
the stairs, I couldn’t help but notice the scowl on Victoria’s face as she watched Astra walk away.
It appeared that Astra and Victoria had as much of a history as Victoria and Gray were purported
to have had. I continued to study Victoria’s face as she narrowed her gaze on Astra, constantly
scowling until Astra turned the corner and headed down a hallway. If looks could kill, Astra
would be dead.
“What was that all about?” Velma asked after walking up behind me.
I turned and glanced in her direction. “If you mean the odd vibe between Victoria and Astra,
I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” I looked around. “Are you done in the
kitchen?”
Velma answered. “No, but I decided to change out of my sweater and into a cooler top while
we make the evening meal since it’s pretty warm in the kitchen. I really should get going.”
I glanced toward the check-in counter and noticed Frankie waving me over. “Yeah, it looks
like I’m needed as well. Once we get everyone checked in, I’ll come help in the kitchen.”
“The extra hands would be welcome,” Velma assured me.
“Can I help you with something,” I asked after wandering over to where Frankie had been
waiting for someone to come and help her with whatever issue the man standing in front of her
seemed to have.
“I’d like to be moved from the second floor to the third,” the man, whom I now recognized as
Kurt Haldeman, requested.
“Is there something wrong with your room?” I asked. I remembered that he’d checked in half
an hour ago, and at the time, he hadn’t said anything about moving.

“The room is fine. It’s the location I have a problem with. To be more specific, it’s the
neighbor who just checked in that I’d like to move away from.”
I raised a brow.
Frankie looked down at the list in front of her. “Ms. Sullivan has Mr. Haldeman booked into
room 203 next to Ms. Vandenberg. The two rooms share a balcony. I guess Mr. Haldeman prefers
to share his space with someone other than the woman assigned to the room next to him.”
“Let’s just say there’s some history between Ms. Vandenberg and myself, which you might
not know about. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer
a neighbor who isn’t a she-witch and won’t trigger an acid reflux flareup.” The man smiled at
me. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I smiled back. I didn’t suppose that Abby really cared who was in which room,
so I asked Frankie to find the man a room on the third floor. She booked him into room 307.
“Should I move folks around so someone is in room 203?” Frankie asked me after Kurt left.
“No. I’d leave it alone. We may need to move someone else before this is over. It seems there
is a lot of tension between our guests.”
“I’ve noticed that.” She looked around. “In fact, I was beginning to think you’d all actually
gathered here for a taping of one of those reality shows where a bunch of strangers supposedly
get together to complete a task, but the viewer figures out after the second episode that everyone
involved actually already knows everyone else and the whole thing is staged for ultimate drama.”
I smiled. It did seem that something exactly like that was going on. “Who all do we have on
the second floor?” I decided it best to change the subject.
“Victoria Vandenberg is in room 201, Grant Seymore is in room 202, room 203 is empty now
that Mr. Haldeman has moved, Liza Bruckheimer is in room 204, Hollis Dickenson is in room
205, room 206 is empty, Astra Ford is in room 207, and Gray Woodstone is in room 208. On the
third floor, we have Poppy Whitmore in room 301, Odette Coleman in room 302, Nathan Lively
in room 303, Wyatt Houston in room 304, Juno Huckabee in room 305, room 306 is empty, Kurt
Haldeman is now in room 307, and room 308 is empty.”
“Just make a note of everyone you have to move so that we can keep track of where everyone
is.”
Once I’d finished with Frankie, I headed toward the lobby, where Abby was chatting with
Poppy and Odette. It appeared that the writing team was happy and getting along, at least at this
point, which I was pleased to see since it sounded like there had been conflict between them.
“Lou, I’m glad you’re here,” Abby greeted. “I wanted to introduce you to Poppy Whitmore
and Odette Coleman.”
“I’m happy to meet you both.” I shook the hand of each woman in turn.
“Is everything okay with Frankie?” Abby asked. “I noticed there was some discussion at the
check-in counter.”
“Everything is fine. Mr. Haldeman wanted to change rooms, so we needed to sort out the
details.”

Poppy snickered. She glanced at Odette, who sent her a knowing smile. I had to admit that I
was curious to know the details concerning the friction that might exist between Victoria and
Kurt that had caused Kurt to want to move; however, now didn’t seem the time to ask. I decided
to ask Abby about it later if I had the chance.
“I guess we should head up to our rooms,” Odette said, addressing her comment to Poppy.
She looked at Abby. “We’ll continue this discussion during the cocktail hour.”
“I’d like that,” Abby said.
When both women walked away, I saw my opening to ask about Kurt and Victoria, but then
Liza Bruckheimer walked in and headed in our direction.
“Abby, darling,” Liza greeted her with a side hug.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” Abby hugged her back. “Liza, I’d like to introduce you to
Lou Prescott. Lou owns a bookstore and is here as my co-host.”
“I’m happy to meet you.” Liza shot me a pasted-on smile.
I attempted to return the greeting, but by the time I found my voice, Liza had already
returned her attention to Abby.
“Have you had the chance to speak to Kate about the matter we discussed on the phone when
you called and invited me to this shindig?” Liza asked Abby.
“I did speak to Kate about it. She promised to look into it, but I’m sure you understand that
this matter won’t be easy to settle,” Abby replied. “The proof is going to fall on you. Have you
found anything?”
She pushed out her lower lip in a pout. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” She glanced toward
the staircase. “I hope this place has bell service.”
“Ricky will carry your luggage to your room,” I responded.
“Ricky?”
“The man wearing the blue jeans and red polo shirt chatting with Nathan,” Abby answered
on my behalf.
“Nathan?” Liza asked.
Abby held out a hand. “Come with me, and I’ll introduce you.”
I noticed that Frankie was chatting with a young woman with short, spikey blond hair who
apparently had a series of questions that Frankie didn’t appear to be able to answer, so I headed
in that direction. Based on the process of elimination, I figured the woman talking to Frankie had
to be either Hollis Dickenson, the writer with a fresh voice who was working to complete her
first novel, or Juno Huckabee, the newest member of Kate’s team, who was just getting started.
“Lou,” Frankie greeted. “This is Hollis Dickenson, and this is her first writers’ retreat. She
has a lot of questions about the event that I’m unable to answer.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Hollis. I’ve heard such good things about your work.”
“You have? I haven’t even published anything yet.”

“That may be true, but there’s been chatter about the novel you’re working on.” I looked
around for Abby but didn’t see her. “I want to be sure that all your questions are answered, but to
tell you the truth, this is my first writers’ retreat as well. You should speak to Abby Sullivan
since she’s an old pro at this, but I’m afraid she wandered off, and I’m not sure when she’ll be
back.”
The young woman smiled. “That’s fine. I’ve been really nervous about this event and arrived
with my questions all loaded, cocked, and ready to fire off.” She laughed. “I guess I can be
intense at times, especially when I’m nervous, but the reality is that nothing on my mental list is
all that important.”
“I understand this sort of thing might be intimidating to a first-time novelist.”
She cocked her mouth in a half grin. “My brothers told me it would be important to exude
confidence, but honestly, I’m a mess.” She leaned in. “Don’t tell the others.”
I pretended to zip my mouth shut. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m sure Abby will be more
than willing to answer any questions you might have once she gets freed up. There will be a
cocktail hour at five. Maybe you can wait and ask your questions then.”
“I’ll do that. And thank you for talking me down. I’m trying to at least pretend that I belong
here, but it’s harder than I thought it would be, and so far, all I’ve done is check-in.”
I gave the young woman a brief hug. “Come with me, and I’ll show you to your room. You
should see the views. They’re spectacular.”
After checking with Frankie about Hollis’ room assignment, I ascertained that Hollis had
been booked into room 205, yet all the other newbie novelists were grouped together on the third
floor in rooms 303 to 305. Room 306 was empty at this point, and I figured that Hollis might
find companionship with other newbies in the same boat as she was, so I asked her if she wanted
to be moved. She indicated that she would like to get to know the other new authors, so I
checked with Frankie and then made the switch.
Once Hollis was settled, I returned to the lobby to find Frankie chatting with Ricky. All the
guests except for two had arrived, so I decided to head to the kitchen to check in with Georgia
and Velma. When I entered the room, the first thing that struck me was the heavenly aroma.
“Something smells fabulous,” I said.
“I have a pork roast with a cranberry glaze in the oven,” Georgia responded.
“That sounds spectacular, and if it tastes half as good as it smells, I think we’re going to be in
for a real treat,” I responded.
“Did everyone get checked in?” Velma, who was peeling potatoes, asked.
“When I last checked with Frankie, they were waiting for two more arrivals. I have to say
that those who have arrived are an interesting group.”
“Oh,” Georgia said. “Interesting, how?”
I tried to choose just the right words. “Let’s just say that many of the authors present seem to
share a common history, which could potentially lead to some colorful interactions.”
Georgia just stared at me with a raised brow.

“Apparently, while Victoria Vandenberg arrived with Grant Seymore, it seems that Victoria
and Gray Woodstone used to be involved in a relationship that ended badly. I don’t have all the
details, but it sounds like Victoria and Gray were an item when Grant and Gray were friends.
Possibly even best friends.”
“That does sound juicy,” Velma responded.
I continued. “I also witnessed Kurt Haldeman refer to Victoria as a she-witch, and there was
an odd vibe between Astra Ford and Victoria.”
“Odd vibe?” Velma asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I noticed Victoria had a scowl on her
face while she was watching Astra as she was heading toward her room.”
“I’m not sure what might be going on between Victoria and Astra, but Abby mentioned that
something might be happening between Victoria and Liza,” Georgia informed us. “She didn’t
elaborate, but it sounded like a personal vendetta.”
“Like I said, things should be interesting this week.” I picked up a piece of diced carrot and
popped it into my mouth. “I did meet one of the newbies, Hollis Dickenson, who seems to have
arrived drama-free. At least she didn’t mention having any prior relationships that might cause
trouble. She seemed nervous about being here with all the experienced writers, so I moved her to
the third floor with Juno Huckabee, Nathan Lively, and Wyatt Houston.”
“That seems like a good move,” Georgia said. “I wonder why Abby didn’t think to group the
newbies together in the first place.”
“I’m not sure, and I hope she didn’t have a good reason for placing Hollis on the second
floor, but the poor dear seemed about ready to jump out of her skin with nervous energy, so I
thought it might be good for her to be with the other newbies.” I picked up another piece of
carrot. “Where is Abby anyway? I saw her go upstairs a while ago, but I don’t think she ever
came down.”
“Even though the inn is closed and everyone is off this week, Abby mentioned something
about calling and checking in with the inn’s staff,” Georgia said. “I also think she planned to call
Colt and check on his progress with a new case he’s working on.”
“Beck mentioned the case when I spoke to him,” I said. “He didn’t go into any details, but he
did mention that he was going to do what he could to help Colt since Colt is short-handed this
week with Alex being out.”
“It can make for a difficult situation when one of the three is out of town,” Georgia agreed.
She looked at me. “Would you mind grabbing the cutting board and slicing the potatoes?”
“Happy to,” I answered. “Are you making au gratin?”
“Sort of,” Georgia responded. “I guess you can label the potatoes I plan to make as au gratin
with my special twist.”
I couldn’t wait to find out what her “special” twist might be.
“Since Lou’s slicing the potatoes and the greens have already been prepped for the salad,
what else do you need me to do?” Velma asked Georgia.

“Why don’t you finish assembling the charcuterie board for the cocktail hour. All the
ingredients are on the list I provided,” Georgia said.
I enjoyed the camaraderie created as Georgia, Velma, and I prepared dinner. Once everything
was ready for the evening’s meal, I returned to my room to change my clothes and clean up a
little. I knew that tonight’s get-together wasn’t a formal affair, but I still wanted to look nice
when I met the authors I’d yet to meet and spent more time with those I already had. In a way, I
could understand why Hollis felt overwhelmed with the situation she’d been thrust into when
she’d signed with Kate. I was sure Hollis was thrilled to have the opportunity to attend, but being
grouped with others who all seemed to know each other was sure to be intimidating.
Once I returned to the kitchen, Velma had left to clean up, too. Georgia asked me to take the
items she’d placed on the counter for the cocktail hour to the bar, which I happily did.
“Oh good, you brought food,” a man in his thirties said when I walked into the room with a
tray with dips and several different sorts of chips and crackers. “I’m starving.”
“I’ll set the food on the end of the bar. Help yourself, but keep in mind there’s more coming.”
“Will they be serving drinks?”
I nodded. “Yes, adult beverages will be served.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Let me
go and check with Ricky. He’ll be our bartender this evening.”
“I’m Wyatt, by the way.” He stuck out a hand.
“Lou.” I reached for his hand in return. I tried to remember what I knew about Wyatt, but I
was pretty sure that the only thing that had been said was that he was one of Kate’s new clients,
and no one knew much about him.
“Can you recommend any of these?” he asked, picking up a cracker.
“I didn’t try them all, but I can say that the cheesy artichoke dip in the middle is quite good,
and that orangish color dip on the end is spicy. If you like spicy, it’s delicious. If you aren’t the
sort to enjoy a bit of a kick, you might want to avoid it altogether.”
He dipped his cracker into the orange concoction. “This is really good,” the man said. “But I
could really use that drink.”
I grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar, handed it to him, and then went to look for
Ricky. I wasn’t sure where he’d be at this time of the day, but I remembered that the apartment
he shared with his wife was behind the kitchen, so I headed in that direction. As I passed the
lounge, I noticed Poppy and Odette standing near the fireplace, talking. I was going to pause and
say hi, but then I realized they appeared to be arguing, so I decided not to interrupt. I’d heard the
two had been struggling in their partnership lately, but, according to Abby, their collaborations to
this point had been well received, and they’d seemed to be on the same page when I’d met them
earlier in the day. Maybe they’d work out whatever needed to be worked out during their stay.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked Liza as she stood to the side, apparently listening
to the argument in the adjoining room.
“No. I was just wondering where the cocktail reception was being held.”
“In the bar. I’m on my way to grab the bartender, or I would escort you, but if you follow the
short hallway behind the check-in desk, you won’t miss it.”

“Thank you. I could use a drink.”
I had to grin as I continued toward the kitchen. There was no doubt about it; I genuinely felt
like I’d fallen asleep only to awaken in a reality show.
When I knocked on Frankie and Ricky’s apartment door, Frankie answered. I asked about a
timeline for Ricky to open the bar, and she told me that Gray, who had just arrived, had asked
Ricky to help him with his luggage but planned to head to the bar immediately after Gray was
settled.
I decided to return to the bar. If Ricky still wasn’t there, I could at least serve beer and wine
until he arrived. I’d noticed that the bar was stocked with all the usual options, and I was sure
there would be those requesting specialty beverages, but mixing drinks wasn’t currently within
my skill set.
“Lou,” Hollis hurried toward me as I passed through the lounge.
I paused to wait to see what she wanted.
“This is Juno,” she introduced me to the young woman with long brown hair standing beside
her. “She just arrived, and no one was at the desk to check her in.”
“Frankie is in her apartment, and, hopefully, Ricky is tending bar. If you’ll give me a couple
minutes, I’ll grab someone with access to the keys.” I glanced toward the lounge. “The authors
who were previously chatting in the lounge seem to have left, so the room is empty. The two of
you can wait in the lounge, or I can show you to the bar and have Frankie look for you there.”
Hollis glanced at Juno. “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s just wait in the lounge. If you don’t mind, that is. I’ve been traveling all day and
would like to have a chance to wash up before meeting the others.”
I was glad Juno had made that choice. Juno and Hollis appeared to be about the same age,
and their careers were in similar places. I was sure they could be allies during what would most
likely be a stressful week for them both.
I shared that I needed to confirm that Ricky had made it to the bar and that I’d go and grab
Frankie once I’d done that. Both girls assured me they’d be fine, and then they headed toward
the currently empty lounge.
As luck would have it, Ricky had shown up in the bar, and everyone had a drink and seemed
to be actively networking. I really wanted to have the chance to watch the interactions between
the players, but I had promised Hollis and Juno that I’d fetch Frankie, so I headed toward her
apartment.
“I’ll be right there,” Frankie assured me once I’d explained what I needed. “Just tell Hollis
and Juno to wait in the lounge. You can head to the bar if they need you there to help.”
I thanked Frankie, stopped by the lounge to fill the girls in, and headed toward the bar, where
I found Abby trying to break up an argument between Grant and Kurt. I had never found out
what Kurt’s deal was, but apparently, his deal somehow involved the man Victoria had arrived
with.
“I see Grant has arrived for the cocktail hour, but I don’t see Victoria,” I said to Velma as she
stood alone at the back of the room.

“She hasn’t come down yet. There are still a few authors who have yet to come down. I must
admit that I’m curious to see what will happen when she does show.”
Me too, I thought to myself. If Kurt and Grant were already arguing, perhaps the drama part
of this event would be even more complicated than I’d anticipated. ...