95 Years Ago

A man walked through the thick snow toward toward a large, elegant-looking inn. As he got closer, a woman with blonde hair stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in a beige fur.

"Laurel." the man breathed out, coming to a stop. He was about to continue walking when a man stepped out onto the porch with the woman. They conversed for a minute before embracing. Feeling a stab of jealousy and heartache, the man stood in disbelief, not hearing the footsteps behind him until it was too late. A blunt object made contact with the back of his head and he fell backwards, laying in the freezing snow and a pool of blood until he took his last breath.

~x~x~x~

Present Day

"Look, Barry..." A man nervously said as he loosened his tie. He and his companion, Barry, were sitting in a nice restaurant, in the middle of their meal, when he began talking. "I don't think this is going to work. I mean, you're wonderful and all, but I just don't think you're in love." the man stopped again and cleared his throat, looking into the green eyes of his companion. "It's not fair to either of us to continue this relationship."

"Oh, thank god!" Barry exclaimed, grabbing his wine glass and draining it, garnering an odd look from the man he was with. "I thought this was a proposal." he said in immense relief.

"I know this may seem sudden, but it's something that's been lurking since the beginning. I know being an attorney is an all-consuming job, but If you wanted us to work, you'd make me a priority." Barry, who had been stuffing pieces of bread into his mouth just nodded along.

"True."

"And, I'm not your priority." Barry smiled.

"You're so not! Also, you're tired of dating someone who hasn't learned how to love."

"I never said that."

"James did. College boyfriend. Sam called me his phantom boy. It was cute, until it wasn't. And Leo said I should go to love repair bootcamp, because of my childhood. Who even knew those things were real?" Barry said with a smile.

"You've...heard this before?"

"Mmm, yeah, lots. But, you know, I'm not going to pretend to feel something I don't. You're so right." Barry said thoughtfully. "I just, don't. Are you gonna eat that?"

~x~x~x~

Barry was sitting at his desk, working on the computer, when his boss, Harrison Wells, dropped a file onto the desk.

"Jocelyn Merlyn finally died."

"And, good morning Harry." Barry muttered.

"Guess why I came to you first." Barry rolled his eyes.

"Because I never have Christmas plans."

"Right. This is mostly just a simple execution of her will." Barry flipped through the file as Harry talked.

"How many assets are there?" he asked.

"Just the one big one." When Barry looked up from the file to give him a questioning gaze, Harry continued.

"Follow me." He led Barry to his office where he had a picture pulled up on his computer. "Hollygrove Inn. Nice, huh?"

"Charming. Who gets it?"

"No heirs. It goes to the trust and the trust wants it sold quickly, before they get hit with taxes."

"By?" Barry asked, leaning down to click through information on the inn.

"End of the year." Barry whirled around, eyes wide.

"That's in three weeks!"

"I know. But, between you and me, Joyce just got moved to Toronto. That means that the Senior Associate position will be up for grabs and, while I can't make any guarantees, I can go to bat for you over Johnson." Barry grinned.

"That's...thank you, Harry."

"We both know it's completely selfish. You work harder than anyone else here and that makes my life easier."

"Okay, I will have the business evaluations done right away, check the books, get an appraiser."

"That's, bizarrely, not as easy as it seems." Harry said, pulling a paper out from a stack on his desk. Barry gave him a curious look that begged him to continue. "I've already hired two companies. Both failed." He handed the news article he had been looking at to Barry. In large letters across the top, it stated, Hollygrove Inn: Haunted.

"Oh, come on!" Barry said, voice laced with skepticism.

"I know, but forty-five percent of the population still believes in ghosts. And, as of right now, so do one hundred percent of our appraisers."

"So, we'll hire someone else."

"Already have. Mr. Murray will be at the Inn in Starling on the twelfth and so will you."