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“Thank you, Mayor Hartwell and members of the council,” she began, her voice sounding smaller than she intended. “As you know, the restoration of the Costigan mansion has been a significant undertaking, but I’m pleased to report that we’ve made substantial progress.”

She clicked through the slides, highlighting the work that had been done so far and the plans for the future. The council members listened attentively, some taking notes, others whispering among themselves. Amy tried to focus on her presentation, but her mind kept drifting to cadavers and ghosts.

As she neared the end of her presentation, Mayor Hartwell leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Ms. York, while we appreciate the work you’ve done, there are concerns about the mansion’s reputation, especially considering the recent discoveries of human remains and the murders that took place there.”

Amy felt her stomach drop. She had hoped to avoid this topic, but she knew it was inevitable. “I understand your concerns, Mayor Hartwell,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I believe that by restoring the mansion and turning it into a space for healing and rejuvenation, we can overcome its dark past and create something positive for the island. The community would benefit through substantial discounts on programs such as fitness and yoga classes, nutrition workshops, stress management, art therapy and preventive health. By investing in this project, we’re investing in the future of our town.”

The council members exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement, others looking skeptical. One of the business owners, a stern-faced woman in a tailored suit, spoke up. “And what about the funding, Ms. York? You’ve requested additional support from the town. Didn’t Costigan leave you money for the mansion restoration?”

Amy swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “Truman Costigan left a large sum to help restore the property. But the funds only go so far when we are constrained to more expensive methods of repair and restoration to adhere to the historical preservation guidelines. With labor costs, the renovation/restoration budget is over one million dollars, exceeding the endowment left by Truman Costigan.”

“And what about your new foundation with Kelsey and Costigan’s grandson? Didn’t you create it for the purpose of these renovations?” the same woman added.

“Yes, together with my sister- and brother-in-law, we have formed the MacCormack-York Center for Arts and Wellness Foundation, a non-profit where we have committed some of our own money for the benefit of the community. This new foundation works closely with the mansion efforts to provide grant funding for everyone to enjoy the wellness we offer. It will provide scholarships, grants, free classes, and events for the community. But it doesn’t cover the restoration.”

She didn’t add that it was mostly Mac’s money. Having a billionaire philanthropist for a brother-in-law had its perks.

As it stood now, she was going to be close to fifty thousand short at the end of the renovation, if everything stayed on course. Expecting it would, though, was a mistake. They’d had budget over-runs at every turn. It was an old building and had been largely neglected for decades. The town funds she had requested would fill that funding gap without Amy needing to accept failure and ask Kelsey and Mac for a handout.

As the council members continued to ask questions and express their doubts, Amy felt herself shrinking under their concerns that mirrored her own. Of course, they’d all heard the dark stories of the mansion’s past, but no one else knew of her recent supernatural concerns.

The lie by omission only made her feel more a fraud.

She glanced at Kaitlin, who sat supportively at the back of the room in her official capacity as town clerk. Kaitlin’s involvement in the project had been a godsend. Having a historian available to keep the historical society’s demands in check was valuable. Her friendship was priceless. Amy drew strength from her friend’s presence, straightening her spine and meeting the council’s eyes with renewed determination.

“I know the mansion has a troubled history,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “But I also know that we have an opportunity here to create something truly special. With your support, we can turn this old building into a beacon of hope and community for our island. A jewel in the crown of the island’s beauty and heritage. I’m committed to seeing this project through, no matter what challenges we may face.”

The room fell silent for a moment, Amy’s words hanging in the air. Finally, Mayor Hartwell nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Ms. York. We appreciate your passion and your dedication to this project. The council will discuss your proposal and let you know our decision soon.”

As the meeting adjourned, Amy let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through her. She had faced her fears and made her case, and now all she could do was hope the council would see the value of her vision.

After the meeting, Amy walked alongside Kaitlin, the stress of the presentation slowly lifting from her shoulders. Kaitlin turned to her with a bright smile on her face. “You did great in there, Amy. I think you really got through to them.”

Amy couldn’t help but return the infectious smile. “Thanks, Kait. I just hope they see the value in what we’re trying to do.”

The two friends made their way to Annie’s Diner, the bustling heart of the island’s gossip mill. It was an easy walk from the town offices on the clear day, especially now that the island had finally decided it was Spring after all. As they stepped inside, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon enveloped them like a warm hug. They snagged a booth by the window, where the sun cast a warm glow across the worn tabletop.

Jenna, a regular server and island native, sauntered over to their table, her apron splattered with the day’s specials. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customers,” she quipped, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I get for you ladies today?”

Amy smirked. “Surprise me, Jenna. Just make sure it’s not the same surprise as last time. I’m pretty sure that ‘mystery meat’ was more mystery than meat.”

Jenna clutched her heart in mock offense. “You wound me, Amy. I’ll have you know Annie’s mystery meat is a closely guarded secret, passed down through generations of short-order cooks.”

Kaitlin laughed, shaking her head. “I think I’ll stick with the chef’s salad, Jenna. Thanks.”

As Jenna disappeared into the kitchen, Sheriff Mattison Winters slid into the booth next to Kaitlin. He greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hey, you two. How’d the big meeting go?”

Amy’s phone buzzed with an incoming text before she could respond. She glanced down, her brow furrowing as she read Sully’s message about the strange markings they’d discovered in the mansion.

“What’s up?” Kaitlin asked, noticing Amy’s change in demeanor.

Amy slid her phone across the table just as Sully’s images came through. “Sully found these in the east wing. He mentioned they had found some odd markings when they were working on the main floor. I asked him to let me know if they found more, and I guess they did. But holy moly, they’re creepy looking.”

Kaitlin’s eyes widened as she studied the photos, her fingers zooming in on the intricate designs. “Whoa, that’s some seriously weird stuff. It almost looks like some kind of occult symbolism.”

Matt leaned over. “You sure you’re not renovating the set of a horror movie?”

Amy shot him a withering look. “Not funny, Matt. This is serious. I’d like to understand what these markings mean. Who put them there and why?”