Anelie was busy with the logistics of the open house, dashing about to keep the homemade refreshments stocked and potential guests engaged in their bed and breakfast. She also desperately hoped that no one would notice the vandalism on the side of the building –– it wasn't a gaping hole, really, just some damage like a car had bumped it and then drove off –– except there were strange, claw-like marks, as if the grill of the car had become disheveled and scraped along the otherwise pristine paint.
The fence looked driven over, too, and her painstakingly tended tomato garden was similarly trampled. She tried to ignore it for her own nerves and was glad the old ladies decided to heckle June instead of her.
"The guest rooms should all be open if you would like to view them," she encouraged people as they walked in. "We have just reopened from new renovations, so they are all vacant and ready if any of you decide you would like to stay. Just let me know."
Her French accent was heavy and it seemed to take a lot of energy to say that much aloud, her face flushed and anxious, and as if to recompose herself, she ran off to the kitchen real quick to get a fresh tray of freshly baked sweets, which she left on a table in the front hall.
Nicholas was upstairs in Room #204, having selected it already, as it seemed to be one of the few that didn't have something weird wrong with it. He was stretched out on the bed with his door open, drowning out the bluegrass with Iggy & the Stooges on tape on his slick boom box, because he's totally 90s cool.