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mean?”
    “The castle, Emily. It doesn’t have the most…stellar reputation.”
    Okay. The picture was getting a little clearer. “You mean, it got only one star in the hotel rating guide?”
    “I mean, it’s haunted.”

Chapter 3
     
    “I T’S WHAT?”
    “It’s haunted, but only if you believe in that kind of supernatural mumbo jumbo.”
    My voice rose to a pitch that was inaudible to most humans. “You booked a group of senior citizens with pacemakers…and hypertension…and predementia…into a haunted castle?”
    “Not so loud! Do you want the whole floor to hear?”
    “Yes!”
    “Look, Emily, there’s some cheesy ghost story connected with the castle, but it happened so many centuries ago no one even remembers the details.”
    “I hope you don’t expect me to believe that. The Irish have memories like elephants. They forget nothing, especially if it’s bad. Why do you think the country is still divided?”
    “Oh, and I suppose you’re an authority on all things Irish?”
    I’d seen The Manions of America miniseries, so I figured that made me something of an authority, even if I did miss one night. “I have my sources.”
    Ashley shook her head. “If y’all want to embrace that silliness about the castle, go ahead, but you’re a modern woman, Emily. I’d think you’d know better. Who would have thought a levelheaded Midwesterner like y’all would believe in ghosts?”
    She had me there. If I said I didn’t believe in ghosts, I’d be admitting there was no problem. If I said I did believe in ghosts, I’d make myself look like a nut case. Damn. “Are you going to warn the guests about the potential for hauntings?”
    “Not on your life. We don’t want anyone influenced by the power of suggestion. I’ve been in this business a long time, sugar, and I’ve found that what people really want is a grand hotel at bargain basement prices. That’s exactly what we’re giving them, so do us all a favor and don’t rock the boat.” She thrust a manicured finger at me. “Remind everyone that we leave at seven o’clock tomorrow morning, so they should have their luggage outside the door by five so it can be loaded on the bus.”
    I returned to my room feeling as if I’d been slugged in the gut with a baseball bat. I dumped my armload of files onto the bed, then stared at Etienne, who was sitting in one of the room’s four tapestried armchairs with an amused look on his face. “You’ll never believe what that…that woman has done,” I sputtered.
    “Booked you into a haunted castle.”
    “You heard.”
    “Emily, darling, I suspect the entire fourth floor heard.”
    “Can she do that? You know the legal system. Isn’t there some law against booking people into haunted castles without their knowledge?”
    Etienne shrugged. “I suppose it depends on whether the spirits doing the haunting are deemed to be benign or malevolent. But this is Ireland, Emily. I was under the impression that all the castles in Ireland were haunted to some degree. I thought it was part of the country’s charm. Or a splendid marketing ploy.”
    Bless his unflappable Swiss logic. I was getting the picture now. “Of course. A castle doesn’t have to be haunted for someone to claim it’s haunted. Saying a place is simply makes it more intriguing to tourists.” For the first time in five minutes I was able to draw a calm breath, which allowed me time to bristle at how effortlessly Ashley had teased a negative reaction out of me. Boy, had she yanked my chain. Well, from now on, she could tell me the sky was falling and I’d take it in stride. Haunted castle. Right.
    “We have castles in Switzerland too,” Etienne continued, “and it’s the haunted ones that cater to the most tourists. For whatever reason, people delight in the prospect of being frightened.”
    “Not me.” I loosened the belt of my robe and gave him a suggestive peek of my bare shoulder. “I’m more delighted at the prospect of being