Shiver / Private Sessions: Shiver / Private Sessions

“I have to meet her. Can I meet her? I love Iron Chef. Almost as much as Ghost Hunters. More than Ghostly Encounters. About the same as Hauntings. But I love Hauntings so much.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to these earnest declarations until he looked behind Erin to find Carrie laughing. Hard. Trying to hold it in, and failing miserably. Sam grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. Seriously,” Erin said, and she did sound incredibly serious. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I think you two are about to lose your place in line.”

“She’s an architect,” Carrie said, as she stepped backward to guard their space. “Honest. A really good one. She makes buildings in between watching TV shows.”

“I see. And you’re an architect, as well?”

“Nope. Graphic artist. I don’t watch enough television to play in the big leagues.”

Erin frowned. “Mock all you want. I’m very well-rounded.”

Sam wished he was here on vacation. Free to hang out with these two just for the laughs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed and damn, he was attracted to Carrie. He couldn’t stop looking at her. That smile was really something. His cell rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Yeah? “

“Where the hell are you? They’re almost here.”

Hit with a hard dose of “what was I thinking?” Sam flipped the phone shut. “Gotta go.” Then he almost ran out of the ballroom, and did run down the hall to the lobby, cursing under his breath the whole way.

He skidded to a halt on the hardwood floor just before it became the lobby. Putting on his best businessman smile, he walked his most confident walk to the registration desk where Ben Heartly and Kunio Mori were sharing a laugh. As he neared the two men, he thought their good humor looked genuine, that the trip in from the airport had been a good one.

None of this was emotional. It was strictly business for them, just as it was for Sam. Buying the place would work for one or both of them, and it all boiled down to the bottom line. Sam had done extensive research into their companies, and these two men. They had the resources, now all Sam had to do was let the Crider Inn show itself off.

“Gentlemen,” he said, putting out his hand. “How was your ride in?”

“Excellent,” Heartly said along with his firm shake. “Gorgeous sunset and good company. Although I’d like to take a look around tomorrow to see if there’s space for a landing field.”

“I’ll see to it.”

He turned to Mr. Mori.

“I look forward to the scenery on the way back, when it’s still daylight.”

“It’s beautiful country. Would you gentlemen prefer to go straight to your rooms to freshen up? The alternative is to make a quick stop in the ballroom, and then dinner in the restaurant.”

“I could do with a meal,” Heartly said. “But I’m happy to wait if Kunio would prefer.”

“No, I’m starving.”

“I’ll have your luggage sent to your rooms, and if you’d like, I can take your coats and then we can begin.”

Once that had been accomplished, Sam walked with them, pointing out some of the hotel features, some of its history. He itched to call the kitchen, to make sure everyone was on red alert, but he trusted his staff. The important thing now was not just to know he had no power to alter the outcome, but to believe it.

DRINKS IN HAND, Carrie and Erin stood in their second line of the night, this one a trip to the dessert table, which, as luck would have it, had been replenished. It was like going to Disneyland. Not that there were any large cartoon creatures walking around, but because of the goodies at the end of the wait.

“I’m getting one of everything,” Erin said.

Carrie nodded. “I can get behind that.”

“Do you think the food’s going to be like this every time there’s a talk in here?”

“Nope.” Carrie sipped her coffee, very, very glad someone brilliant had invented Kahlúa. “I think this is a one-time deal. Next talk, we’ll probably get raisins and cold Pop-Tarts. It’s the only way they’re going to make any money off this conference.”

“Hey.”

It was a male voice, a little bit behind them and to the left. As a unit, Carrie and Erin turned. Surprise. It was Elbow Guy from the shuttle. His name, according to his tag, was Elton.

“I remember you from the bus,” Carrie said.

“Shuttle,” Erin said.

“Whatever,” Elton added. He stuck out his hand to Carrie, although he stared at Erin the whole time. “I’m Elton.” He helpfully pointed to his name tag. “Like the singer. No relation.”

Carrie managed not to laugh. “Nice to meet you, Elton. I’m Carrie. Like the book. Also no relation.”

He nodded, causing his dark, shoulder-length hair to fall forward and back. “So you seen any ghosts?”

“Not so far.”

He seemed surprised that Carrie was talking to him. “I mean, ever.”

Carrie shook her head. “Not a one. I’m just not lucky like that. But my friend Erin has.” She helpfully pushed Erin closer to Elton.

“Yeah? What kind? Like, scary?”

Erin faced her and scowled, but smiled before she turned back. “No, not scary. Why, was yours?”

Carrie left the conversation in Erin’s capable hands as she moved closer to nirvana. She’d narrowed down her picks from six to four, eliminating the fruit category. The petits pots au chocolat was the current front-runner, with the napoleon inching up.

“Right, Carrie?”

She straightened. “I’m sorry, I zoned out on treat selection. Did you ask me something?”

“Elton was saying that it’s really cool to be here where everyone knows that ghosts are real and living among us. Because sometimes, when he tries to talk to people about his experience, they don’t get it. And I was saying that he’s absolutely right. That every single person here knows ghosts are real.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” She looked at Elton, who must have been around twenty or so. He wasn’t a bad-looking kid, but his eyes were sad, and his shoulders slumped and his T-shirt was kind of generic. “I’d like to hear about your ghost experience,” she said kindly.

Elton smiled. “It was more of a poltergeist than a spirit.”

“They throw things around a lot, yes?”

“I’ll say. My parents still don’t believe me when I tell them, but I swear it’s true. The poltergeist knocked over a couple of vases, broke a chair and kept tilting all the pictures in the hallway. It happened for almost a whole year. I kept getting in trouble, and they sent me to the school counselor, but even Frodo, my dog, he used to bark all the time at like, nothing. It wasn’t nothing, it was the poltergeist, but even when I showed my dad, he just said the dog was as crazy as—”

A crash of breaking glass and thuds had Carrie spinning around to face the left corner of the ballroom. A big cleanup tray had fallen from a portable stand, leaving a mess of broken dishes. Only, no one was standing near that corner. Not a soul. The closest person was a tall woman with long dark hair who seemed as surprised as everyone else in the room. She couldn’t have knocked over the tray and gotten so far away in the time that had lapsed.

Someone must have put one too many plates on the far edge of the unsteady tray. Bummer for the cleanup crew.