Page 14 of The Accidental Innkeeper

Maybe I didn’t know how to run an inn, but I knew how to figure things out. I’d built entire worlds out of nothing. I’d wrangled characters, timelines, and scenes.

Also, I was already here. And broke. And if I ran away now, I’d be the exact person my aunt accused me of being—a loser.

No. I wasn’t going to run away.

I lifted my chin. “How many rooms does the inn have?” Besides, I desperately needed a new adventure.

Becca’s expression got all business. “Twelve.”

My brain sputtered. “Twelve.”

“Plus the owner’s suite.”

“I get a suite?” I perked up.

Becca’s eyes flicked toward the hallway. “If you don’t mind dust, a questionable smell, and a bathtub that may or may not have… history. It was Edna’s room.”

I sat down hard on the nearest sofa. It puffed out a sigh like it was exhausted already. “Tell me there aren’t bodies in the walls.”

“No bodies,” Becca promised. Then, as if thinking of something, she added, “At least not that we know of.”

I looked around again, at the wallpaper, the furniture, Edna’s twin forms. “So what’s the state of everything? Like… is it gross gross, or just abandoned gross?”

Becca’s mouth twisted. “It depends on your definition of gross.”

“Rats. Spiders. Termites. Bed bugs. Cockroaches. Leaky toilets. Anything that crawls, bites, multiplies, or comes out of a wall.”

Becca snorted and pulled a slim folder from her bag. “I did a walk-through,” she said. “I made notes. Nothing official. Just… reality.”

“Okay,” I said, leaning forward despite myself. “Hit me.”

Becca smiled like she’d been waiting for that. “All right. Basic systems are running. Edna kept the utilities on. She had someone come in once a week to make sure the pipes didn’t freeze and the place didn’t flood.”

“Someone?”

Becca hesitated. “Not sure. I can find out if you want.”

“Yes. Thanks.”

Becca flipped a page. “The kitchen needs an overhaul.”

“Of course it does.”

“The roof over the east side leaks.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“The back stairs are… not ideal.”

“How not ideal.”

Becca gave me a look. “They wobble.”

I pictured myself in a dramatic fall, rolling down stairs and dying in the world’s least glamorous way while the boiler screamed in celebration.

“Okay,” I said, holding up a hand. “So, it’s been closed a while. No one is arriving tomorrow expecting a room.” I could live with that. I could take my time and decide what to do. Stay at the inn, walk around the town, get inspired, that kind of thing. Totally doable.

“Not tomorrow,” said Becca.