After a few seconds, my mom's sweet Southern-accented voice answers. "It's been a long time. I forgot what your voice sounded like."
"How are you, Mom?"
"Me? Oh, fine, I suppose."
I grit my teeth. She's going to make me work for every normal interaction. Every piece of information. I could just do what I normally do and talk about the weather, her tennis game, Dad's golf game, or any number of nonthreatening topics.
I smile, putting a little of my Southern charm to work. "I wanted to hear your voice."
"Van Beauregard Thomas, you are up to something. What are you up to?"
I grip the hotel phone tightly. "I have a few questions. About Gram and Gramps. Is Dad—"
"Young man. You left a job doing I-don't-know-what that paid very well just because your grandparents were—"
My hackles are raised. "Were WHAT, mom?"
A long pause. "Eccentrics. Eccentrics who never really wanted to socialize with the rest of the family."
It's true. I can remember my grandparents coming for Christmas and Thanksgiving sometimes when I was little, and hosting holidays, as well as family get-togethers. But we didn't spend a lot of time together. For a while, I thought I'd been a little brat and that was why they didn't come around much. They sent birthday money and gifts and cards, but they didn't visit. When I was old enough to text or email, I'd bombard my grandparents with messages. They claimed to be overwhelmed with technology. It took days for them to answer me when I'd blow up their phones.
They were here.
Whenever they didn't come around, or missed birthdays, or didn't reply to my messages, they were working here, in this resort of the gods.
"Mom, the last time we spoke, you were saying I should give up being an entrepreneur—"
"But you're finally making money," she says with the kind of approval I crave. "I mean, this is not like those other schemes you tried. This is about eye doctors. People need eye doctors. People need eyeglasses."
"I know, Mom. But it didn't do as well as I hoped."
"So, you take your little break and fix up your grandparents' house, sell it, and then get back to what you're good at."
It hits me like Thor's fabled hammer.
Mom and Dad really don't know about the Wendigo Inn.
How could my grandparents keep something so important from them? From me? And why didn't my grandfather want my dad to take over the business? Why me?
"Have you ever been to this place?" I rummage through my grandfather's tidy office behind the white-and-green door marked Employees Only.
I see leather-bound books full of records dating back to 1900. How did I not notice that? I open up the oldest one and leaf through it.
My great-grandfather, Damon Thomas, has noted every guest. Familiar names pop up. "Odin," "Thor," "Loki, "Poseidon," "Athena," "Fuxi,""Sun Wukong," "Daji," "Coyote," "Amaterasu," "Zeus," "Anansi," "Artemis," and others.
Holy crap.
My mother's mom-sense is alert. "What are you doing?"
"Just organizing—"
"Organizing what, exactly? What is there to organize? From what the lawyer said, the house is mostly empty. You haven't called us in two weeks. I would think you could give me your full attention for five minutes."
I put aside the thick book with its creamy paper that feels sharp to the touch. I've always been hypersensitive to texture—it's why I favor loose cotton shirts. "Okay, you have my undivided focus."
"That's better. When are you going to be finished? Have you found a realtor yet? I can Google one for you."
"First things first, Mom. Have you been to this house?"
The silence is so loud I'd prefer the sounds of hammering and drilling, or loud techno music, or anything.
"Mom?"
"I'm thinking."
What's there to think about? They either have been here, or they haven't. On the other hand, it's possible my grandparents never told them about this place.
After another deafening silence, my mother adds, "You know your grandparents. They said they had homes everywhere. Your grandfather was very successful despite his humble background, you know. And your grandmother came from money. It's too bad that her brother lost her parents' fortune."
"But you've never been here before."
"I don't recall that, and I think I would have. I wasn't even sure where it was. I have the address, but there's nothing on the Internet. Even if your grandparents hated technology, someone would list something. County records. Do you remember when Google Earth showed our house when we were redoing our driveway? I was so embarrassed."
I'm pretty sure there are no county records for this house.
"What kind of place is it?" my mother asks. "Is it some kind of money pit? Or Shangri-La?"
"Getting warmer, Mom."
How do I tell her this without her thinking I need mental health counseling?
"Can you get Dad to pick up the phone?" I ask.
After another pause, Dad answers. His voice has a faint British accent. The family hailed from the UK, in Cornwall. However, my grandparents had the full-on accent. My dad, not so much. "Hello, son. Just how much of a mess did your grandparents leave?"
"Apparently this little hideaway is quite the hidden gem." My mother has a flair for the poetic when she wants to. "Even though your father never told us about it."
Dad sounds wistful. "Yes, well, that was just his way."
I clear my throat. "I have something to tell you both, and it's not going to be easy. I hope you're sitting down."
"Tell us right now, straight out," Dad demands. This is Arthur Thomas at his most determined. Unlike Mom, who can question you to death, all Dad has to do is give you that Sherlock Holmes voice.
"This inn has a rather elite and upscale clientele," I begin. "Legends, you might say."
"Inn?" Mom and Dad chorus.
"That's right. The Wendigo Inn."
I can hear the tapping of keys while Mom and Dad look it up. "Is this a joke?" Mom exclaims. "Are you turning into your grandparents with their wild tales?"
"It's no joke, and I am turning into them. You see, Mom and Dad—"
A CRASH somewhere in the building makes me jump up. The kind of crash that says a disaster has taken place.
Daji bursts through the office door without knocking. "He's causing trouble again!"
"Who?" I ask.
"My nephew! He's gotten into a fight with Odin and Thor."
I tell my parents I'll have to call them back.