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low tones, we told Angela about the hallway and how Sofia said renovations weren’t being done there because it was possibly haunted.
    â€œInteresting.” Angela glanced at the woman sitting alone at the table, reading the menu. “Maybe there’s a story here.” She leaned her chair back, nearly tipping, and called, “Eating alone?”
    The woman raised her menu as if to protect herself, but then smiled shyly when she saw Lily’s grinning aunt. “Yes.”
    â€œYou must join us. We’re just starting, and more is merrier!” Angela waved the woman over to our table.
    The woman looked unsure.
    â€œAngie,” Lily’s mom said under her breath, “some people go on vacation to be alone .”
    â€œI’m Angela Fiorini.” Angela ignored her older sister and extended her arm, still stacked with bracelets, but I noticed that she seemed to have changed them to match her outfit.
    The slight woman pushed her chair next to Angela’s. “Laura L’Angille. I will join you, thanks.” Her voice was high, almost childlike.
    We filled Laura in on who we were, but we kept Angela’s secret. No talk of being a reporter.
    Laura came from Tupper Lake, which wasn’t far from the hotel. She was into yoga and meditation, and she loved the outdoors. Oddly, she and Angela discovered a lot to talk about. They were a funny pair. Angela in her stylish maxi-dress and delicate gold sandals and Laura in her crunchy fabric sandals and woven jewelry.
    â€œVacationing so close to home?” Angela asked. She was good at getting information.
    â€œI’m here for work,” Laura explained.
    â€œOh, a conference. This is a great spot for one,” Mrs. Randazzo remarked.
    â€œNot exactly. They don’t have conferences for what I do,” Laura said. “I’m a spiritual adviser.”
    Laura explained that she combined herbal and spiritual practices to balance the body, mind, and spirit. She was concerned with inner peace and harmony. She hadn’t had her business long, but she felt she was developing a following in the area.
    Lily was delighted by her tales of healing people by using her psychic abilities to unearth their hidden troubles. I hung back, not trusting myself to say anything. Not trusting Laura.
    Angela had stopped acting like a reporter and, by the time we finished sharing a gooey chocolate lava cake, was comparing favorite recipes with Laura. “Come to the Bearside with me and Beth,” she invited her. The Bearside was an adults-only pub on the hotel’s lower level. Lily and I had already announced that we were heading to the game room.
    â€œI wish I could, but I have to work,” Laura said.
    â€œWork?” Angela raised her eyebrows.
    â€œOn the second floor,” Lily blurted. “You’re communicating with the ghosts on the second floor, right?”
    â€œMr. Himoff hired me.” She lowered her voice, and we all huddled close. “He’s having a problem with—”
    â€œGhosts!” Lily finished.
    â€œShhhhh,” Laura cautioned. “He doesn’t want people to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    â€œCome on,” Angela encouraged. “Spill the dirt. I love a good story.”
    â€œEver since he bought the hotel, guests staying in the rooms on one hallway have complained about hearing odd, mournful noises. There have been reports of the heat mysteriously turning on in the night and doors refusing to lock.” Laura glimpsed over her shoulder. No one seemed to be listening. “Things got so bad he had to comp the complaining guests.”
    â€œComp? What’s that?” I asked.
    â€œIt means he gave them a night’s stay complimentary. Free,” Mrs. Randazzo explained.
    â€œOne free night is no big deal. But he’s had to give a lot, especially to stop the guests from posting badreviews online. Lots of free nights means losing lots