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possibilities. Besides, Dalton has a thirteen-year-old daughter. We’ve grown quite fond of each other. She’s enough extra responsibility for me.”
    Realizing she was gritting her teeth, Marla focused on watching where she stepped on the path to Planter’s House. They exited the tropical hammock and followed their leader, single file, through a fallow field toward an impressive two-story columned mansion.
    “Where will you go on your honeymoon?” Joan asked just when Vail twisted around to wag his eyebrows at Marla, a look of desperation in his eyes. Whether awed by his job or attracted by his masculine appeal, Rochelle appeared smitten. The girl continued to bedevil him.
    Casting him an encouraging smile, Marla answered Joan. “We haven’t discussed it yet. I’m not sure Dalton can take the time off, plus I’d have to rearrange my schedule. So we’ll see.”
    Their arrival at the manor relieved her of any further need to answer indelicate probes. They faced a southern mansion. Wide verandas extended around all four sides of the brick-and-tabby structure.
    “Rutfield built the north section of the mansion first,” Champagne said, pointing. ‘This is connected to the main structure via a breezeway. Note the twenty-five-foot-high columns that support the roof. In the early days, those were considered symbols of sophistication. Due to the risk of fire, the kitchen became a separate addition. If you want a taste of old times, you can stay in Planter’s House, which has been fully remodeled into deluxe suites. We serve complimentary continental breakfast and afternoon beverage service in the lounge.”
    Cynthia poked Marla. “You’ll have to come see our place later. We have a huge living room and a kitchenette.”
    “Uh, right,” Marla said, returning her attention to the social director. “Are there any ghosts haunting this building?”
    Champagne’s glance caught hers. “Oh, surely. Major Ferringer, a Union soldier intent on destroying the place, was caught before he did any real damage and shot right on that front porch. Anytime something strange happens here, folks blame his ghost. Some guests claim to have seen him in his dark blue frock coat with epaulets. Others complain he moves their furniture, unlocks doors, or turns lights on and off. I’ve never had a problem with him, but it’s said he favored blondes.”
    “Champagne,” a clerk said, rushing up to them, “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the tour early. There’s been another accident.”
    Champagne’s face paled. “What now?”
    “One of the workers fell off his ladder. We’ve called an ambulance, but Mr. Butler wants you to help with crowd control.”
    “Of course.” Champagne offered a falsely bright smile to the group. “We’re nearly finished anyway. Thanks so much for coming. I hope you’ll have a simply fabulous time during the rest of the weekend.”
    Her frothy demeanor made Marla feel like she was at Walt Disney World. The social director exuded genuine enthusiasm when she related resort history. Why, then, did it seem forced at other times?
    Marla waved a hasty good-bye to her relatives as the group broke up. Her pulse accelerating, she hurried to reach Vail, who’d forged ahead. Alarm gave wings to her feet, but Champagne surpassed them both. The petite woman had gained yards in front.
    A crowd of onlookers surrounded a prone figure on the ground at the base of Oleander Hall. Beside him crouched a heavyset fellow, who rummaged in a black medical bag. His jowls nearly reached his thick neck, encircled by a stethoscope.
    Vail shoved his way into the circle, kneeling by the victim’s side. Splotches of red blotted the man’s coveralls. Judging from the fallen ladder nearby and toppled paint cans, he appeared to be a painter, although Marla didn’t think the crimson stains came from pigment.
    The whine of a siren grew louder. Flashing lights heralded the arrival of rescue personnel. A path quickly cleared for the