Well, The Chancery House rooms had turned out just splendid. And we had lots of little touches like mini-fridges and herb shampoos and flowers splashed around on the nightstands and mantels. A guest could hardly take a step without bumpin into another one of our flytraps--I mean, complimentary services.
And, on the web site, the Inn looked grand and welcoming and you could tour around it lookin at the rooms, the carriage house and even nearby points of interest. For regular folk with no interest in the doin's of the disembodied, that probly translated into places like the Vanderbilt mansion and Franklin Roosevelt's house. In the winter we could hook them up with horse drawn sleigh rides and skatin rinks and such. Summertime, there was plenty of swimmin and fishin holes and tennis and all that truck; and, in the fall, they could go apple pickin or horseback ridin. We had all the amenities--and plenty of kickbacks from everybody--includin local restaurants, so there wasn't a chance they wouldn't be linin' our coffers just as much as the thrill seekers.
We had a trick or two on the web site for them chumps what scoured the Internet lookin for haunted attractions. We labeled one room off the attic: Secret Passage. Once you was inside, if you clicked around a certain way, a skeleton would pop out of a closet ; and, then if you clicked on Mr. Bones, he disappeared and a old-fashioned scroll unrolled and let you know that even though we had our own slew of spirits right on hand, if you wanted more, and if you was brave enough, why The Chancery House would be happy to arrange your participation on a haunted tour--that would show all the goriest local sites, tumbledown graveyards, ghost-infested houses, and the like.
Course, we didn't have a clue where we'd actually take people or what we'd show em--but like Huck said, "We'll just make it up as we go along--and that'll be a prime sellin factor. It'll be unique every time. Lizzy Borden's old house don't change and once you seen it, you seen it. How many times can a body look at the spot where Andrew got cleaved? Less they liven it up some come Halloween with fake blood or a dummy corpse or somethin. But our tour'll be like of them web games--different each and every single time you enter."
"It's prime," I agreed; and it had just the kind of style I doted on. "Not to mention, since it's all a big secret, we don't even have to describe it--and then we ain't committin no kind of fraud, neither," I said.
And, in case I forgot to mention it, we decided to throw a kind of glammer on the house--and, what's more we could change that glammer whenever we wanted--kind of like a back up system on your computer, you might say. Or that old chestnut about a genie who gives three wishes and your last wish is for unlimited wishes….Anyhow, Huck reasoned it might be more fun if the house always appeared different, so we used a spell we invented that we called The Randomizer Glammer. And we had every intention of patenting it, too, so other witches what owned Bed and Breakfasts couldn't get the drop on us. It was was a noble good spell.
Some days the house looked sort of like Victorian gingerbread. Sometimes it was the great big old ramblin pseudo Federal Style it actually was--as you recall--and sometimes it kind a looked like that oddly invitin house what Charles Addams used to draw up. People kep on seein it different--depending on what they wanted to see or find in a night's lodgin, but mostly it just changed of its own will--just like a program does with your cursor or your mail notifier that changes every time you boot up.
Mr. Twain--lovin inventions and cats as much as he did--would have agreed it was a smasher. It was the handiest thing around--Huck built right into the spell that no matter what the whole house would always look tidy and clean. I can't tell you how much housework that saved us--not to mention laundry, dustin and consorting with demon vacuum cleaners.