“No room at the inn.”

Of course the manager at this quaint Williamsburg Inn, the official home for the tenth annual “Out of this World” convention, had stated it more politely than that. But that is what she heard.

“I am very sorry, Ms. Perry. It appears that your reservation has been lost in our computer. If I had any spare rooms at all, I would give one to you. Unfortunately, we are completely booked due to the convention. And we haven’t had a single cancellation or no show.”

Kerry Perry nodded her head, but she pulled from her pocket the brochure for the conference. Opening it up, she pointed to the middle of the page where her name was listed as a speaker. “The organizers promised me it was all arranged, otherwise I would have seen to it myself.”

“If you’ll just give me a moment, Ms. Perry, I’ll see what I can do about correcting this mistake.” John Abbott turned quickly from the main desk and walked through the door marking the private office.

Kerry took another deep breath. “Stay calm,” she muttered quietly. “This isn’t being done deliberately to me. It could just as easily have happened to anyone else.” Forcing another deep breath through her lungs, Kerry fought the urge to call her friends. In fact, this same thing was probably occurring to some other poor schmuck right this very moment in another hotel. Unfortunately, while calming herself with rationalizations might help with a few of her phobias, it wasn’t helping solve the problem. Being completely honest with herself, she reluctantly acknowledged that she was really upset about something else entirely.

It had all started two years ago when she decided, just for fun, to add some quirky little ghosts to a story she had written. Ever since then her publishers had wanted her to write more and more paranormal, fantasy and science fiction genres for her erotic novels. In the beginning, she had no intention of attending any conventions—not on romance, sci-fi or any other kind of gathering of readers, writers and just fans in general. The publicity might help her writing career, but it could submarine her teaching one. Still, she had a persuasive editor and publisher.

Thus, with her publisher paving and paying her way, and her editor encouraging her through the bumps in the road and detours, Kerry found herself in Williamsburg, Virginia and “roomless.” Thanks to her generous publisher and influential editor, Kerry was now stuck here for seven days. After the convention, she was lucky enough to have four extra days to rest, relax and return completely refreshed and ready to write.

“Ms. Perry?”

Kerry turned to see the manager had returned, and he was smiling. Perhaps things were about to improve. Forcing a smile to her lips, Kerry asked the expected, “Yes?”

“Good news! Unfortunately, the rest of the hotels are booked because of the convention as well. But a friend of mine is planning on opening a lovely bed and breakfast soon, and he is happy to have you as his first guest.”

“Are you sure about that, Mr. Abbott? It sounds like he wasn’t planning on any guests for some time.”

“Not to worry, Ms. Perry. Quite a few of the rooms are finished, but my friend divides his time between fixing the place up himself and work. He’ll be here in a few minutes to give you a ride to the Rose.”

Kerry lifted one eyebrow, which had always nicely and quickly intimidated her students in the past, and usually brought forth amazing confessions and the truth. “The Rose?”

“The name of the bed and breakfast is Fair Rose. It goes back to an old story…” John stopped as he was interrupted by one of his desk clerks. He turned back a moment later. “If you’ll have a seat in the lounge, I’ll come for you as soon as he gets here.”

Kerry nodded, picked up her bags and then walked the short distance to where several chairs were grouped together. She was still in the lobby though, and could easily see people coming and going through the main entrance. The thought of sitting in a smoke-filled, loud bar didn’t sound like fun to her. Crossing her legs, she set her expensive, plain leather bag on her lap. Rubbing one hand across the leather, her finger traced over the brass turn lock. Kerry acknowledged the purse was like her life.

She wore her dark auburn hair carefully twisted into a neat and tidy bun most of the time, or pulled into a ponytail. She had two pairs of glasses: one with heavy dark frames, and the second with wire rims and smaller lenses. A friend had talked her into the second pair, but Kerry thought they looked like Ben Franklin rejects. This afternoon, she had arrived at the inn dressed in an off-white blouse with a skirt and jacket made of a quiet, earth-toned herringbone pattern. With her brown purse and one inch brown pumps, she was the perfectly groomed schoolteacher. Or rather, she was dressed perfectly if this was still the fifties or sixties, or she was in her fifties!

Kerry took a deep breath, looking at the entrance and wishing she were somewhere else once again. What a great place to spend her fortieth birthday! Unmarried, unattached and forty! Everything a modern woman yearned for…NOT! The doors opened again and Kerry watched and wondered if this would be her ride—