Where The Heart Is: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations story

begun life as a barn and been added onto over the years. It was painted sky blue with the name of the business over the entrance in red letters, matching the sign by the road. Light, music and laughter poured from the doorway as patrons entered in a steady stream.
    Dean grinned. He liked it already.

    Kerry turned in her seat. “It’s not usually quite this bad, but it’s always busy on
    Saturday. Karaoke Night’s pretty popular.”
“I think it’s a parents’ weekend at the college, or maybe a game. Something going on
at UNC, though, which is probably why it’s so crowded.” Squinting against the light of
the sunset, Ron pointed ahead and to the left. “Babe, is that an empty spot?” Kerry pulled her sunglasses off and looked where Ron was pointing. “Yeah. It’s
close to the front too, grab it before someone else does.”
Nodding, Ron sped up and eased the Nova into the space. “Dean, you gonna sing for
us?”
Dean considered as they all climbed out of the car. “Depends. What do they have?” “Oh, everything.” Ron locked the car door and pocketed the keys. “Classic country,
pop hits from the forties to now, show tunes, even some really freaky-ass obscure shit.” Laughing, Kerry slid an arm around her husband’s waist as he walked up to her and
they joined the throng heading toward the barn. “You remember that song Fish Heads?” “Yeah, it’s on my iPod.” Dean widened his eyes at her. “What, you mean they have
that ?”
“They do,” Ron said. “Want to duet on that one?”
“Hell yeah.” Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Dean drew a deep breath. The
chilly evening air smelled of grass and sunshine. Behind the barn and to the right, Dean
caught sight of a large, Victorian-style farmhouse with a wide covered porch. The white
paint glowed orange with the sunset light. “Is that the Inn?” he asked, nodding toward the
building.
Kerry nodded. “Yeah. Cute, huh?”
“Mm-hm.” Dean slowed to get a good look at the building. “Very romantic looking.” “It’s haunted,” Ron said, glancing over his shoulder at Dean.
Groaning, Kerry smacked Ron’s arm. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that, you
dork.”
An expression of almost comic dismay crossed Ron’s face. “Oh, that’s right. Oops.” With one last curious glance at the Inn, Dean trotted to catch up with his friends. He
gave them both a stern look. “Why would y’all not want to tell me that?” Kerry took his hand and squeezed it. “I know you, Dean. You’re gonna want to
know all about the ghosts, and you’re gonna want to investigate, even if it’s an unofficial
investigation. I’m selfish. I don’t want to share you while you’re here.”
Touched, Dean leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, I came all the
way up here to get away from work, remember? I’m curious, sure, but I’m not about to
let that get in the way of hanging out with y’all.”
Kerry smiled. “Good.”
When they reached the entrance to the barn, Dean dug a five-dollar bill out of his
back pocket and handed it to the smiling middle-aged woman at the door. After checking
his ID, she stamped his hand and gave him a dark blue ticket which he was informed was
the voucher for his free glass of chardonnay. Thanking her, he followed a plump girl in a Blue Skye polo shirt and jeans across the floor. Kerry and Ron trailed behind, talking
quietly.
Tapping the edge of the ticket against his lower lip, Dean gazed around in delight.
The room they’d entered was enormous, with a clean-swept floor of rough wooden
planks. The only light came from small red-shaded lamps on each table, and the high
ceiling was lost in shadows. Antique wine-making equipment sat displayed at intervals
along the walls, with little plaques beside them explaining their history and use. Oak
barrels with wide, round wooden tops formed the tables at which a variety of people sat
sipping wine, laughing and talking. A few of the customers were dressed up, but most
wore jeans, sweaters and other casual clothes. Unsurprisingly, the crowd tended heavily
toward college age. With the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill within a few
minutes drive, it was no wonder Blue Skye was so popular.
“This place is great,” Dean declared as they took their place at a table near a low,
shallow stage. The girl who’d seated them collected their wine tickets. “How long’s it
been here? I don’t remember it from when we were in college.”
Leaning back in her