As the hour approached for my housewarming guests to arrive, I felt the flutter of butterflies in my stomach. The conservatory, with its newly hung fairy lights, glowed like a beacon against the evening sky. Margaret had outdone herself. The tables were adorned with white lace tablecloths and centrepieces of roses and rosemary. The scent was calming, even if I still felt off balance from Marcus' appearance earlier.

I positioned myself by the entrance, ready to greet each guest with a warmth I hoped would mask my jitters. Margaret and the kids were the first to arrive in the conservatory. "Damage nothing," she instructed as she entered the room. "Evie, everything looks wonderful. You've done a great job. How are you feeling?"

"Thank you, I couldn't have done it without your, Margaret," I replied. "I'm not feeling great. He always had a way of knocking me off guard, but I feel lighter knowing that it's finally over."

Elias followed close behind, his eyes twinkling with anticipation beneath his thick brows. 

"Evening, Evie," he greeted me with a nod. "I've brought along some old photographs of the inn for your guests to peruse."

"That's wonderful, Elias. Thank you," I said as he handed me a leather-bound album.

Oliver sauntered over, his equipment clinking in his backpack. "Ready for some spectral shenanigans?" he quipped, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Bella came up with a great idea of where to put it," he added before darting off to set up his gadgets in a corner.

"I like that kid," said Elias. "Reminds me of when I was a lad."

The room steadily filled with familiar faces from the village. Fiona Ravenshadow arrived with an elegance that briefly silenced the room. Her eyes met mine with an unreadable expression. I gave her a nod of greeting knowing how much it cost her to come.

"Evie," she said smoothly, extending her hand. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Her cool fingers brushed mine before she drifted into the crowd.

Gideon came next, carrying a basket brimming with freshly forged iron trinkets he'd made as housewarming gifts. "Thought these might bring some old-world charm to Willow Grove," he said with a shy smile.

"They're perfect, Gideon. I wondered why you'd gone home. " I replied warmly. His presence was like an anchor amid the sea of faces.

Agnes slipped in quietly behind Gideon, offering me a reassuring nod and squeezing my shoulder gently as she passed by.

As the conservatory filled with the soft hum of conversation and laughter, I looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The guests were mingling, their shadows flitting across the walls, painted by the light shining through the stained glass panels above.

I realised I was looking out for someone. I glanced over to the door now and then, looking for a figure that hadn't yet arrived. Why was I waiting for Gethin? I hoped he might drop by, but as the evening wore on, his absence felt like a hole in the festivities.

I didn't know why I wanted to see him, to get to know him better. There was something about Gethin. Maybe it was the way he seemed so strong and silent, or the way his blue eyes seemed to hold a thousand stories.

Every time the door chimed, and a new face appeared, I felt a pang of disappointment when it wasn't him. Why was I so keen to see him? Was it because he seemed to understand me without saying anything, or because I felt safe whenever he was around?

I was surprised at my own feelings. Someone's presence or absence rarely swayed me, but somehow he was different.

I turned away from the door, annoyed with myself for feeling this way. I should concentrate on my guests, making sure they were having a good time at Willow Grove, but I was still willing him to come through the door.

I stood in the conservatory, taking in the village guests. Margaret's laughter bubbled through the air. I smiled as I watched Elias, captivated by storytelling, showing his photographs to anyone who was interested. It was hard to believe the place, so full of life now, had been touched by death recently.

I felt part of the community. They had come to my housewarming, brought gifts for my new beginning for Willow Grove. This was like drawing a line under Marcus and starting a new chapter.

As the evening wore on, I noticed something. Small groups were breaking away from the main gathering and heading upstairs. Their footsteps were soft but purposeful. I excused myself from a conversation with Maeve Rosewood about her flower arrangements and followed.

At the top of the stairs, I found them outside one of the en suite rooms, the room where we'd found Thomas Davies. Whispers swirled as I noticed someone had opened the locked door.

"Did you see the stain on the carpet?" one villager said to another, her eyes wide with morbid interest.

"They say he was lying right there," another gestured to the floor with a flourish.

I felt my face flush. I realized that, for many of them, this was more than just a social call. It was a chance to be close to something macabre and get the latest gossip. My home was the latest exhibit and Thomas's death was the centrepiece.

I felt my happiness at being accepted by them ebb away. They weren't really here for me, but for the whispers of murder. I felt the line between community interest and invasive gossip blur in front of my eyes.

I cleared my throat and stepped forward. "Let's remember that whilst something awful happened here, this is May's home, and I thought she was important to you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

The group looked at me. Some looked sheepish, others unapologetically curious. They muttered apologies and filed back downstairs without meeting my eye.

I stood for a moment in the quiet hallway before returning to the light and chatter in the conservatory. The cheerful conversation washed over me, but I couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that had settled in my chest.

I felt a pang of loneliness. I was disappointed in the villagers for being so morbidly curious and I missed Gethin's reassuring presence.

Then, like a shadow, Ebony appeared at my feet. She wound herself around my legs, her sleek black fur brushing against my skin in a silent gesture of solace. I looked down into her emerald eyes. It was as if she knew the turmoil that twisted inside me and offered her silent support.

I crouched down and stroked her head. Her purring was comforting. Her presence was grounding. I picked her up and stroked her. She purred, the vibration of her contentment calming my jangled nerves. I had never felt so vulnerable after an evening's work.

I carried Ebony to the kitchen to feed her. As I did so, I overheard one of the departing guests say to another as they walked past the house, "I guess it's no surprise murder happened here, after what happened to May."