Chapter 10: BLUEPRINT
The dining room table disappeared under an avalanche of paper.
Blueprints, floor plans, building permits, contractor quotes, budget spreadsheets, color swatches, and at least three versions of the same electrical diagram that Sam kept insisting were different. Logan stood at one end, Jay at the other, and between them lay the entire future of Woodstone B&B rendered in ink and anxiety.
"Okay," Sam said, spreading another sheet across the pile. "Priority one is the guest rooms. We need at least three functional suites before the November opening."
"Three weeks." Jay ran his hands through his hair. "Three weeks to make three rooms livable. That's... possible. Maybe. If we don't sleep."
"We're not sleeping anyway," Logan said. "The house makes too much noise."
He didn't mention that the noise was eight opinionated ghosts who'd been arguing about renovation priorities since dawn. Thor had been pacing the hallway outside the dining room for an hour, occasionally bellowing corrections that only Logan and Sam could hear.
"The east wing rooms are in the best shape," Logan continued, tracing the blueprint with his finger. "Minimal structural work, good natural light, and they're far enough from the main house that guests will have privacy."
Sam looked at him. "How do you know that?"
"Because in the show, those were the rooms that worked. Season one, episode four. The first successful B&B booking."
"I walked through them yesterday," he said instead. "Checked the floors, the windows, the plumbing. The east wing was built later than the main house — different foundation, better materials."
Jay grabbed a highlighter and circled the east wing on the blueprint. "Okay. East wing it is. What about the kitchen?"
"Kitchen first." Logan tapped the relevant section. "You can't run a B&B without breakfast. And you're the chef — you need equipment you can actually use."
"The current stove is from 1987," Jay said. "I've been cooking on a museum piece."
"So we upgrade. New stove, new refrigerator, basic ventilation fixes. The rest can wait."
Behind Logan, invisible to Jay, Trevor floated toward the budget spreadsheet with an expression of professional pain.
"Those contractor quotes are robbery," Trevor muttered, reading over Jay's shoulder. "Forty-five hundred for cabinet refinishing? I could get that done for two grand in Manhattan. These Hudson Valley prices are predatory."
Logan couldn't respond without looking insane, so he made a mental note: Trevor has financial competence. Use that later.
"And the basement," Sam said. "We should probably—"
"Leave it."
The word came out sharper than Logan intended. Sam looked at him, surprised.
"Structural concerns," he added, smoothing his voice. "The basement has original foundation work, and some of it's questionable. Until we can get an engineer down there, it's not safe to renovate."
"And it's full of cholera ghosts who would riot if we started demolition."
Sam nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Basement's off the list."
Hetty chose that moment to sweep through the wall, Victorian displeasure radiating from every transparent inch.
"The parlor," she announced, "is not to be touched."
Sam glanced at Logan, then turned slightly to address the empty air beside the window. "Hetty, we're just talking about paint—"
"That wallpaper was selected by my personal hand in 1889. It was imported from Paris at considerable expense. I will not have it covered by whatever garish modernism you've chosen."
"It's peeling."
"It is AGING GRACEFULLY."
Logan stepped in before the argument could escalate.
"What if we compromise?" He addressed Hetty directly, keeping his voice casual enough that Jay wouldn't find it strange. "We preserve the parlor's original character — no structural changes, no paint, just... cleaning. Maybe some restoration work on the moldings. Keep it as a showpiece."
Hetty's expression shifted from outrage to consideration.
"Restoration," she repeated. "You mean returning it to its original glory?"
"Exactly. We highlight the history. Make it a feature, not a renovation project."
The ghost studied him for a long moment. Then she inclined her head — the smallest possible acknowledgment.
"Acceptable," she said. "But I will be supervising any workers who enter that room."
She swept back through the wall before Logan could respond.
"Hetty's okay with the parlor plan," Logan said to Sam. "She just wants to... supervise."
Jay looked between them, clearly missing half the conversation. "I'm going to pretend I understood any of that."
"Best approach," Sam confirmed. "Now, about the music room—"
Alberta materialized in the doorway, arms crossed, voice carrying.
"I heard 'music room.' That's my territory."
Two hours later, the renovation plan was set.
East wing guest rooms: priority one. Kitchen upgrades: priority two. Parlor restoration: ongoing. Music room for Alberta: under consideration. Recreation area for Pete: pending budget approval. Basement: strictly off-limits.
Logan had spent the entire meeting juggling two conversations — one with Sam and Jay about practical concerns, one with the parade of ghosts who kept drifting in to voice opinions. It was exhausting, like being a simultaneous translator at a very strange United Nations summit.
"I need coffee," Jay announced, standing and stretching. "Anyone else need coffee? I'm making coffee."
He disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving Logan and Sam alone with the blueprints.
"You're good at this," Sam said quietly. "The mediating. Making everyone feel heard."
"Practice." Logan shuffled papers into neater stacks, avoiding her eyes. "The original Logan used to negotiate with difficult clients all the time."
The lie came easily. Too easily.
"I'm getting better at lying. That should probably worry me more than it does."
"The original Logan?"
Sam's voice had an edge to it — not hostile, but curious.
"I mean... the professional version. Work-Logan. The one who dealt with suppliers and distributors and people who wanted impossible things." He shrugged. "Different context, same skills."
Sam studied him for a moment longer, then let it go.
"Whoever taught you," she said, "they did a good job."
She followed Jay toward the kitchen, leaving Logan alone with the blueprints and the ghosts who were still hovering at the edges of the room.
Pete bounced over, arrow wobbling. "That went well! I think? It went well, right?"
"It went well."
"And my recreation room is on the list!"
"Pending budget approval."
"That's practically confirmed!" Pete beamed. "This is going to be great, Logan. The B&B is going to be amazing. And the living people will come, and maybe some of them will be able to see us too, and—"
"Let's take it one step at a time, Pete."
But Pete was already bouncing toward the parlor, chattering about board game options and the merits of various competitive activities.
Logan turned back to the blueprints.
His hand moved without conscious thought, sketching something in the margin — a rectangle, some notations, a series of numbers that looked like coordinates. He was halfway through the second measurement before he realized what he was drawing.
"The vault. I'm marking the vault location."
He'd seen it on the show. Season two, the big treasure hunt arc. A hidden room behind the library wall, accessible through a mechanism disguised as a wall sconce. The Woodstones had stored their most valuable possessions there — documents, jewelry, things that had been locked away since Hetty's death.
Things that could answer questions about Alberta's murder. About Hetty's suicide. About a hundred years of family secrets.
"I shouldn't know this. I definitely shouldn't be drawing a map."
Logan grabbed the corner of the blueprint and tore it off — a ragged triangle of paper covered in his own handwriting. He folded it twice, then twice more, and tucked it into his pocket.
Later, in his room, he'd hide it properly. The damaged copy of Gatsby on his nightstand had become his personal filing cabinet — a place for notes he couldn't let anyone else see.
"Planning something?"
Sass's voice came from directly behind him.
Logan turned, keeping his face neutral. The ghost stood at the edge of the dining room, watching with those patient, evaluating eyes.
"Just cleaning up."
"You tore off a piece of the blueprint."
"Scribbled on it by accident. Didn't want Sam to think I was vandalizing her plans."
Sass didn't respond immediately. He just looked at Logan with an expression that said I see you without ever putting it into words.
"The new guests arrive soon," Sass said finally. "Sam's excited. Jay's terrified. The ghosts are divided between hoping someone else can see us and hoping they can't."
"What about you?"
"I'm curious." Sass tilted his head. "About a lot of things."
He walked through the wall and was gone.
Logan exhaled slowly, pulled the folded blueprint corner from his pocket, and looked at it.
"I need to be more careful. Sass is watching. Sass is always watching."
He tucked the paper back into his pocket and went to find Jay in the kitchen.
The coffee could wait. But the performance couldn't stop, not even for a second.
That night, Logan transferred the vault sketch to its hiding place.
The Gatsby paperback sat on his nightstand, its spine still dented from its high-velocity encounter with the wall. Logan opened it carefully, found a blank page near the back, and pressed the folded blueprint corner against the binding.
"A secret hidden in a book about secrets and lies. Very literary."
[GE: 100/100. STATUS: PARANOID BUT PREPARED.]
His phone buzzed. A text from Jay in the group chat:
Jay (9:47 PM): First booking confirmed! Anniversary couple, arriving Saturday. We're doing this!
Below it, Sam's response:
Sam (9:48 PM): 🎉🎉🎉 Let's make it amazing!
Logan typed back a thumbs up emoji and set the phone aside.
Saturday. Five days to get the east wing rooms ready, the kitchen operational, and eight ghosts to agree on a code of conduct for guest visits.
[NEW NOTIFICATION: LIVE AUDIENCE INCOMING.]
[AAR TRACKING WILL COMMENCE UPON GUEST ARRIVAL.]
[RECOMMENDATION: DON'T EMBARRASS YOURSELF.]
Five days.
Logan closed the Gatsby book, vault sketch safely hidden inside, and started making a list.