A Timely Vision

“The real estate agent said the inn is close to two hundred years old,” Kevin told Shayla as we approached the front of the impressive structure. A large fountain with a mermaid in it splashed in the middle of the circle drive. There was still a place to tie your horse right off the big, wide veranda.

“He’s probably right,” Tim agreed. “This place has been here forever. My grandpa told me it had a speakeasy in the basement during Prohibition. People came out here from all over, even with the long ferry ride from the mainland.”

“Every place out here had a speakeasy,” I added. “We were famous for bootleg rum. Some of it was smuggled in, but some of it just washed up. People out here have always taken advantage of what the sea brought them.”

“It’s a great old place,” Kevin said proudly as he opened the front door. “I found ledger books and old trunks full of stuff in the attic. I don’t think anyone moved anything out of here when the last owner left.”

“Probably because he died and there wasn’t an heir.” Tim followed Kevin into the inn. “It was years before it could go on the market. Then it sat empty for at least twenty years. Must’ve been a mess to clean up.”

“Not so bad.” Kevin flipped on the lights.

Shayla and I toured the old-fashioned lobby. There was a high desk on one side and a large, circular seat in the middle. A few chairs were scattered on the expensive-looking rugs.

“Good furniture,” Shayla observed. “It looks like it’s straight out of the fifties.”

“I suppose he could leave it this way and advertise it as a retro place to stay.” I went behind the tall desk where a bell still sat on the counter. The telephone was one of those heavy black landlines everyone used to have out here.

“Are you two coming into the bar to look for the key or not?” Tim demanded from the doorway.

“This is like a treasure hunt.” Shayla picked up an old Tiffany lamp from the marble-topped table. “You could use some of this stuff in Missing Pieces, Dae. Maybe then you could sell something.”

I made a face at her and thought about the dog painting I’d sold to Kevin. I didn’t see it in the lobby. Maybe he hadn’t had a chance to put it up yet. Not that I was worried about it. It wasn’t one of my important pieces. Still, I like to know the things I sell are appreciated.

I followed Shayla and Tim into the bar area. The bar itself was amazing. It was a large wooden slab, smoothed and polished to a mirrorlike finish. It appeared to have come from a single tree. There were cute old bar stools with rattan seats set up to it and a large number of tables near a big bay window that overlooked the Atlantic. The faint smell of cigar smoke permeated the entire room. I could almost hear the tinkle of ice cubes in glasses of bootleg whiskey and the laughter of the Blue Whale’s patrons enjoying themselves.

“Wow!” Shayla circled around the room a few times. “Look at this! This place could become the hot spot for the whole community. I hope you’re going to have food too.”

“I hope to,” Kevin assured her. “I have a lot more work to do before I open. I’ve been living on the ground floor. I haven’t done any work on the other two floors yet.”

“What are you going to call the place?” Tim asked, playing with an old dartboard.

“The Blue Whale. No point in looking for a better name. I like the sound of the one it has.” Kevin ran his hand down the polished bar top, then glanced over at me. “I’d also like to find that key so I can open the locked room on the third floor.”

As I stood by the window overlooking the seashore, I nodded my head toward the ancient silver cash register that rested between antique bottles of whiskey lined up against the mirrored back wall. “The key is behind the cash register. Honestly, either you believe me, or you don’t. That’s where I saw it.”

Tim shrugged. “I think she’s always right.”

“Give me a hand,” Kevin said. “Let’s see.”

Together they moved the heavy cash register to the bar behind them. Shayla let out a little screech as they started to put it down on the glossy surface. Before the metal could come down on the wood, she’d thrown a towel under it. “Geez Louise! You don’t have any idea what it costs to refinish wood, do you? The two of you are such men.”

“Maybe so,” Kevin replied. “But I still don’t see anything back here. There’s no mysterious drawer.”

I was looking out the window, not really paying attention to the goings-on by the bar. There was something on the beach—a figure or object that faded in and out as the moonlight came and went with the clouds. I stared, trying to determine what it could be besides one of the legendary ghosts said to prowl the Outer Banks from time to time. I’d never actually seen one, but I knew plenty of people, including Gramps and Shayla, who had.

“Dae? Are you still with us?” Shayla demanded, waving her hand in front of my eyes.

I blinked and whatever was out there was gone. “I thought I saw something on the beach. Maybe a ghost.”