Spellbound

CHAPTER ONE

Of all the days for my chronic tardiness to kick in, it had to be today.

I crammed my keys into my purse and slung it over my shoulder. Slamming my car door, I caught my reflection in the dusty window. Wisps of golden hair broke free from my ponytail and crowned my freckled face like a lion's mane. I licked my fingers to tame the strands and cringed as it did little to better my appearance. With a sigh, I gave up and ran toward the sky rise.

Today was just another nail in my aunt Hazel's coffin. After years of battling breast cancer, my great-aunt had been in remission. Or that was the impression she'd given my family. It turned out Hazel had sugarcoated the truth in a thick, sticky glaze. She'd gone as far as concocting an active lifestyle of daily swims, Bunco every Tuesday, and a slew of renovation projects around the Reynard. When the disease claimed her, she had been alone, and I'd been living it up with no clue. Not only was I not at her side when she died, but I couldn't convince my family to forgo a traditional funeral. Hazel would have wanted a party to celebrate her life. Bright clothing, strong drinks, and cheesy '80s pop songs—a quirky gathering that she would have loved to have attended. Now, all that was left was this final meeting, which she would have hated too.

After the twenty-floor elevator ride, I burst into the attorney's office and asked the receptionist to point me to the conference room. My shoes beat against the tile floor, and I nearly tripped when I skidded to a stop in front of the double oak doors. Smoothing down my dress, I took two deep breaths to still my racing heart and walked in.

Everyone seated around the oval conference table fell silent. My skin prickled with embarrassment under their scrutinizing gazes. They were freshly pressed suits and designer shoes, and I was a broken-in pair of Vans and a red sundress from my senior year of high school. I avoided making eye contact, turning my attention to the window overlooking the Boston cityscape. It was bad enough that my parents and brothers were here to witness what I was sure they considered another irresponsible Gemma moment, but Raven's family was here too.

My uncle Kevin was the spitting image of my father, down to the silk ties and Italian leather shoes they wore to work every day at Fox Imports, the luxury-car empire they had built from the ground up. They weren't twins, but only eleven months sat between them, and they'd been inseparable since birth. The only discernible difference between them was their taste in women—while my aunt Deborah was pretentious and materialistic, my mother was a sweet, sincere woman, who was charmed by my father's charisma and stability.

"Nice of you to join us, Gemma," my father said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His hazel eyes radiated disappointment—an expression I had grown to expect over the years.

My mom elbowed him, offering me a tight smile that didn't show off her new set of veneers, a gift from my father for their last anniversary. "Christopher, stop it. Come on in, honey, sit down."

I took the empty seat next to my brother Hunter. "You okay, Gem?" he whispered, brushing his palm over the scruff on his jaw.

I appreciated Hunter's empathy. No one in this room understood just how much Hazel meant to me. She was just a kooky relative to them, a woman obsessed with ghosts who lived in a musty, old hotel. But Hunter was always sensitive to other people's emotions, especially mine.

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes. "Yes. I just—"

"I know today is hard for you. It'll be over soon enough," he said, squeezing my arm.

"That's right. I can finally shut down that outdated roach motel and do something useful with the profits," my cousin, Raven, said, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder.

Anger bubbled up in me, heating my cheeks and the back of my neck. Raven had always hated the Reynard, never wanted to spend the summer there, and never took the initiative to learn its history. Her ridicule and eye rolls were the only things I saw from her where the hotel was concerned.