June 15

I threw the glossy magazine onto the couch with disgust and tried to wipe away the tears that constantly renewed themselves in my eyes. What did it matter that my article finally made it into print? It was a shell of what it should have been if I had truly wanted to tell the story of The Grand East Hotel. That wasn't the reason for my sadness, however.

Ten days had passed and no word from Will. It was over. After six months of turmoil, of daring to believe in an extraordinary romance, all had vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. In a burst of anger, I grabbed Will's notes off the desk, scrunched them up into one big ball of wrinkled paper and threw them into the trash basket. I could no longer fight the tears. I let them fall freely as I huddled against a cushion and dreamed of days when my biggest problem was not knowing or understanding the reason for my sadness. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

A tentative jingle at the front door startled me. I jumped up and looked at the clock. It was close to four. I must have cried myself to sleep. I wiped my bleary eyes and wandered toward the ringing, which now continued more insistently. A package, probably. Blanche was always receiving them, and those delivery guys never liked to leave anything without a signature.

"Just a minute!" I called out impatiently.

With anxious hands, I jiggled the lock and opened the door.

"Sam." The name escaped my throat in barely a whisper.

I stepped back and looked at him through widened eyes.

"I know this is a surprise," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't call first, especially after all this time."

"No... no problem at all." I took him by the hands and lead him inside, then nervously wiped at my eyes and tucked my hair behind my ears. "Excuse me for being such a mess today..."

"It hasn't been easy for you," Sam said. "I understand. That's why I decided to come over and have a chat."

"Sit down," I said, leading him to the couch. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine."

We sat facing one another across the coffee table. I bit my lip and studied his calm, kind eyes. He was here to finish the story. The story I thought would never make it to my ears.

"Why did you change your mind... about telling me?"

"So you know that's why I'm here," he said with a wry smile. "I read your article. I could sense the pain and curiosity you were feeling. Maybe I'm being ridiculous, but that's what I picked up when I read it."

"You were right."

"I guess I should first ask what you know and what you would like to learn..."

"I know what happened to Gabriel and that you resented Destiny for not predicting it. But Sam, I don't understand the parties. We were both there and so was Gabriel. How could he be... gone? And yet we can speak with him. It's like a communal dream."

Sam hesitated and then leaned closer across the table.

"This is going to be hard for you to believe, but there's no way around it so I might as well say it flat out: They weren't dreams. You know Destiny was a medium. Well, so was Audrey and many of the others who attended those parties. They escort people like you and me, and then they channel the energy. That allows us to experience things we normally wouldn't have the ability to experience. I'm sure you've had a look around the old ballroom before. You've gone up there in the middle of the afternoon, and it's empty. We've all done it. And at first, I have to admit, it would freak anyone out."

"That's how it happened? It was real, after all?" I was shaking so much that Sam grabbed the blanket folded at the edge of the couch and threw it around my shoulders. "For everyone—not me alone. It wasn't only me hallucinating or mixing up fiction and reality. You remember being at the parties, seeing me there, talking with Destiny? Everything?"

"Are you all right? I had hesitated for so long because this is difficult to accept. It seems outrageous, ridiculous."

"I'm fine," I said, touching his arm. "I wanted to hear the details. Of course, it seems impossible. Like the Jonathan and Victoria story. For so long, I didn't know what to believe. Normal people don't accept this kind of thing."

Was I normal? And who defined "normal" anyway? I held my head in my hands and took a few deep breaths.

We were silent for a minute, and images of Gabriel's parties raced through my mind one after another. So that's why Zachary Taylor had easily popped up there. Parties that defied time.

As difficult as Sam's story was to swallow, it actually clarified all that had unfolded over the past few months. What other explanation could there be? I had been to those parties and had seen everything with my own eyes. I was perfectly coherent. The same went for Will and Sam. The dream theory didn't hold water, as much as I had wanted to believe it as the one sane explanation. The earrings I still wore and the strange black hat were material proof of my encounters with Zachary Taylor. A feeling of relief overcame me with this piece of the puzzle. My emotional roller-coaster ride was nearing an end.

I looked up at Sam.

"That's how you see Gabriel."

"Yes, it was my deal with Destiny."

"And now that she's gone?"

"There are others who can help me, but the problem is Gabriel is pushing me away."

"I don't understand."

"He doesn't want me to live in the past." Sam stopped and bit his lip. "He wants me to move forward. Without him."

"Are you ready for that?"

"No... but I have to force myself to be ready. I'm trying. For the first time, I'm really trying."

I reached across the table and took his hands.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's no one's fault. Not even Destiny's. As much as I've blamed her. Just because someone is a medium doesn't mean they don't have limitations. It took me a long while to accept that."

"Are they going to continue?" I asked. "I mean, the parties... without you there. You were the reason Gabriel threw the parties...so that the two of you could be together. That's really romantic."

A sad smile lit Sam's eyes, and a glossy tear lingered, trapped.

"Gabriel never was very far from a great get-together, and I'm sure there are other people out there who need a late-night spot with a lot of smoke and mirrors as a meeting point."

And then a thought came to my mind.

"Sam, you must have known Destiny's friend Audrey, the girl who died at the hotel not too long ago. She wanted to continue what many people called a lot of commotion at the hotel, and the Taylors were against it. You must know about the Taylors, how they own the place. Then it was for sale, taken off the market..."

"You want to know if Audrey was murdered, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because that's what everyone's been asking."

"Well is it true?"

"As if I knew," Sam said, shaking his head. "The story is too complicated. There are too many people with too many individual interests."

"What do you know, Sam?" I pressed on, unable to rein in the questions I had kept at bay for days. "Did the Taylors kill her?"

"The Taylors haven't had a majority stake in the hotel for years, my dear. They had no reason to kill Audrey."

"What? But that's the complete opposite of what I've heard. Even Charlotte Moss said the Taylors called her to make an offer for the stake she inherited from her sister!"

"Oh, they probably did. Maybe they want to dabble in the business again."

"I don't understand any of this..."

"The Taylors had some financial troubles a few years back so were forced to sell some assets. They did the easiest thing: They sold certain items, including their shares in the hotel, to the other side of the family. A young cousin named Gwen Garnier actually bought up most of the hotel stake. And Destiny of course had a share. Other members of the family purchased paintings and other properties."

"Gwen was a principal owner all along?" I whispered half to myself. "But then why would she put it up for sale and take it off the market? Nothing makes sense."

"That, I'm afraid, is a question for Gwen Garnier."

"She wanted the parties to stop, and Audrey wanted them to continue," I said, again my voice a shadow of its normal self. "But I can't believe it... She couldn't have..."

I squeezed my knees against my chest and closed my eyes. I didn't want to accept the possibility that Gwen was involved in Audrey's death.

"I've only met Gwen Garnier a couple of times at family parties," Sam said, as if reading my mind. "I don't know her well enough to say whether or not she would do such a thing to clean up the hotel's image and get back to business. It's all circumstantial evidence, in any case."

No proof. One way or the other. I wanted to believe in her innocence. But I wasn't sure I would be able to accept that everything had been simply accidental.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please vote – thank you!