"Okay, let's go through it one more time, from the top. Sass?" Sam suggested as she directed her gaze towards the left side of Woodstone Manor's main entrance, where said ghost was currently standing.

To which he made a big show of rolling his eyes before crossing his arms, and speaking in a flat voice. "I'll be waiting out on the front porch until I see them pull up, at which point, I'll let you know that they're here."

"Perfect! Jay?"

The professional chef/B co-proprietor/first-time restaurant owner, who was now positioned parallel to the young Lenape on the right, managed to do a better job at keeping his eyeballs stationary and his tone somewhat peppy, if only to avoid getting lambasted for it later. "As soon as Sass tells you that they're here, I'll make my way back to this spot and wait for them to knock before putting on a smile, and casually opening the door while saying, 'Welcome to Woodstone!'" He made a grand sweeping gesture with his arms as he said that last part.

"Wonderful!" she beamed. "And then I will take care of the rest once they get inside. Good job, you two!"

Sassapis just rolled his eyes a second time in response.

"Thanks, Babe. Now, if nobody minds, I have a beef Wellington to get back to," Jay said both to his wife, and to any other spectres who were more likely than not somewhere around nearby, before making his way back to the kitchen.

"Good morning, ladies! Oh, and Sass," Pete declared cheerfully as both he and Isaac entered the foyer at that moment, and proceeded to join Hetty and Alberta, who were standing near the threshold to the main floor living room watching this all go down. "What's going on here?"

"Sam and Jay are rehearsing how they're gonna greet their first guests this week," Alberta replied.

"Wait, what? Guests? I didn't know we still got those!" Issac jibed.

"I know, right?" the lady of the house joined in, fully aware that her four times great-grandniece could hear it all from behind the reception desk just a few feet away.

"Hold on a minute," Pete then spoke up, effectively bringing the hoopla to a halt. "Guests on a Tuesday? Most people usually can't afford to come all the way up here until the weekend. Who are these weekday rebels?"

"I don't know, but they don't deserve an entire welcoming ceremony, if you ask me," Sassapis answered, reminding everyone of his presence.

"Then why are you helping to pull it off?" the lounge singer catechized.

"Because Sam promised me an hour of private TV time if I did."

"Speaking of which, Sass…" the other B co-proprietor/freelance journalist/amateur author gently interjected as she gestured her head in his direction. Or, more specifically, in the direction of the door behind him.

"Whatever. Later," was all the second oldest Woodstone spirit said in return as he rolled his eyes for a third time, turned around, and phased through the closed egress.

"No, seriously Sam, who are these people going away to a Bed and Breakfast in the middle of the week?" the part-time Scout leader repeated his initial question as he and the others approached the desk.

"Well, if you must know," she began as she clasped her hands and smiled dreamily. "It's a married couple who are gonna be staying here until Thursday to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary together! And, get this; he intentionally chose those days when he made the reservations two weeks ago, to ensure that both he and his sweetheart would have the place all to themselves!"

Alberta was the first to speak after a beat of silence passed over them. "Okay, I'll admit it, that's actually pretty adorable."

"Ooooh! And just who is this distinguished gentleman?" Pete added as he leaned suavely against the desk.

Sam checked the check-in log. "He only gave me his last name: Mister…Schlumberger."

And with that, Alberta burst out into a fit of hysterical cackling. "'Schlumberger?!' And I thought 'Higgintoot' was a stupid name!"

"Um, I prefer the term, 'clinically under-appreciated,' thank you very much," the Continental Army Captain said nonchalantly, pretending not to be hurt by the Prohibition-era performer's affront, however true it might have been.

"Well, I, for one, can't wait to meet this Schlumberger fella, no matter how silly his surname may be!"

"You won't have to; they're here," Sassapis responded to Pete's remark as he phased back through the door at that exact juncture.

"Oh, Jay! Jay, it's time!" Sam called.

"Alright, alright, I'm here," he assured out loud as he made his way into the foyer, cleared his throat, straightened the shirt his spouse had picked out for him, and waited for the knocks. When they came, he slicked his hair back, took a deep breath, and pulled the door open. "Welcome to Woods—!"

"Wow, what friendly service! I feel like a king already!" the man commented in amazement before letting himself into the almost two hundred-year-old mansion. The man standing all by himself on the front porch, hence why Jay's greeting died halfway through on his tongue; something the man did not acknowledge as he strolled up to the reception desk.

He was White, middle-aged, and about three feet taller than Jay. He had short, styled ash-coloured hair, a couple of wrinkles on his stubbly face, and a bit of a pot belly. He was wearing navy blue straight fit jeans, a long-sleeved baby blue cotton shirt, and stunningly clean tan hiking boots. Topped off with a matching tan leather belt, an expensive-looking watch on his left wrist, and a pair of aviator sunglasses hanging from the V-neck of his shirt.

"Good morning!" Sam politely recited her welcome with a smile to match, graciously picking up the ball that her husband had inadvertently dropped. "Mister Schlumberger, if I'm correct?"

"Oh please, call me Pete," he chuckled.

The full-time travel agent gasped in excitement. "A distinguished gentleman who shares strong marital fealty and a first name with me? What are the chances?"

"So sorry we're late, but the muffler was acting up again," he went on as he checked his watch. "Took me a good ten minutes to tune it up and get it working again; otherwise, we would've gotten here on time, for sure."

"And he's a handyman who values punctuality! Good Lordy, if I still had blood pressure, it'd be skyrocketing right now!"

"Well, I can assure you it's no problem at all, Mr. Schlu—um, Pete," Sam replied as she glanced at the time on her phone. 10:22 AM. Their scheduled check-in time was 10 AM. "You and your wife are still our only guests for the time that you're here, so you've got our complete and undivided attention for the next three days."

"Whether you like it or not," Hetty retorted, with the other ghosts except Pete snickering in agreement, knowing just how…much her last direct descendant could be with guests at times.

She ignored them regardless. "Speaking of which, where is your wife?"

"Luggage alert!"

Upon hearing that announcement, everybody, both living and dead, turned towards the entrance to see Jay coming in with two large suitcases, one black and one red, that both looked rather heavy, based on how much he was struggling to get them up the couple of front steps. And right behind him was a woman holding two medium-sized carryon bags in colours matching their respective wheeled counterparts. She was White, a little taller than Sam, and noticeably skinny. She had long, dull brown hair with several streaks of grey in it, and looked to be at least a decade older than her husband. And everything she was wearing was black; black turtleneck pullover, black bootcut jeans, black sneakers, black wide-brimmed sunhat, large black cat eye sunglasses; not exactly the outfit one would expect someone to have on in late May. Even her purse was completely black.

"Oh, Crimmy Dear, I told you I was just gonna get us checked in quickly! You didn't have to do this without me," Pete the guest said as he rushed over to his wife to take the bags from her hands, set them down by the suitcases, and wrap an arm around her waist. "Well, no better time then now to introduce my better half, Rebecca. She's the woman I've dedicated the last fifteen years of my life to."

Jay decided to take that opportunity to shake their hands, starting with hers. "Well, it's a pleasure to—"

Only for her to flinch and take a half-step back from his outstretched arm, before wordlessly hanging her head in shame.

"Oh, um, you're going to have to excuse Crimmy here, she's a little shy around new people," living Pete explained apologetically to fill the pin-drop silence that had suddenly befallen the manor lobby.

"Um, 'Crimmy?'" Sam questioned as she came around from behind the reception desk.

"Oh, that's my little pet name for her. Her favourite colour is crimson, hence the luggage."

"Oh, that's nice," she answered as she tried to make eye contact with Rebecca to get some sort of confirmation from her, but all she got instead was a split-second glance from behind her sunglasses that she still had not taken off yet for some reason, before her spouse spoke up again.

"Anyway, if you two don't mind, we've been on the road since the crack of dawn, and would really like to get settled in now."

The amateur medium hesitated for a beat before remembering her job. "Oh, of course. Just follow me upstairs to your room."

And with that, she began to lead the couple up to the second floor while telling them all about Woodstone B 's services and rules for bedtime and meals, leaving Jay to deal with their luggage.

"Oh no, it's cool, you guys, I can handle the bags all by myself, thanks for asking," he muttered under his breath as he nestled one carryon strap in each of his arm crooks, grabbed a suitcase handle in each hand, and proceeded to make his own way up the stairs, one single, plodding step at a time.

"Wow, I bet that if you looked up the word 'husband' in the dictionary, his face would be there," Alberta said with stars in her eyes as she watched Pete the guest ascend the staircase, still holding onto Rebecca's torso.

"You think he's a husband, you just witnessed a real wife right there," Hetty pointed out with a hint of pride. "Does what he wants without him having to ask, and lets him speak uninterrupted!" It was not until a couple seconds of silence had passed that she finally noticed three of the other four ghosts staring at her with a mix of confusion, shock, and offence. "What?"

"Okay, I'm calling it right now: they're not gonna make it past the second day before they get bored outta their minds and leave early. What do you think, Pete? Pete?"

The arrow-impaled spirit did not hear Sassapis' prediction as he continued to gawk at the couple. Or, more specifically—

"Pete, are you alright?"

Only when they disappeared from view on the main floor did he finally snap out of his trance. "Huh, w-w-what?" he sputtered before whipping his head around to see who had addressed him. It was Isaac, with a look of grave concern etched into his countenance. "What's wrong?"

"You went real quiet halfway through the check-in process all of a sudden. Which, normally I wouldn't complain about, but…you look like you've just seen a ghost. No pun intended, of course."

After seeing the same worried expression on the remaining three faces looking back at him, Pete took a moment to think about how to best respond to that as he directed his gaze back to the stairs. "There's something about that woman that looks…familiar."

"Familiar, how?" Hetty inquired.

"Like…like I've seen her before."

"During your afterlife or life-life?" Alberta followed up.

"I…I don't know."

Sassapis spoke next. "Okay, well, think: did you ever personally know a Rebecca who was a fan of the colour crimson?"

"I…can't…say. And before any of you say it, no, this isn't another senior moment like when I thought I pretend-married Laura with lilies instead of orchids; I know the answer's there somewhere, but it's just…not coming to me."

Sensing that Pete was now starting to get genuinely frustrated, Issac offered his two cents.

"Well, trying to force it out isn't going to do you any good. I suggest you just give it some time, and let it come to you naturally. Oh, and engage in some good old-fashioned ghostly eavesdropping on our new guests; that should help jog that old memory of yours."

As much as Pete wanted nothing more than to know exactly who that woman was right now, he also knew deep down that the gay military man was right. "Yeah…yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Issac," he eventually replied, hoping that it at least would not take too long for him to get his answer.

Author's notes: Hey, guys! I just wanted to say that I'm so excited to be posting my first multi-chapter work in quite a while! On that note, I feel like I should clarify that When Tragedy Connects is not, I repeat, NOT dead; this is simply the longest bout of writer's block I've ever experienced since I started that particular story all the way back in 2021. But mark my words, I have NOT forgotten about it in the slightest, and I promise that as soon as the right idea comes to me, I will jump right back into it head first, and make sure that it finally gets the proper ending that it deserves!

But until then, I hope you enjoy this one!