Epilogue
Christmas Day.
Davis stood on the front porch of the bed and breakfast. It was eerie how quiet it was with the film crew gone. He opened the door, swinging it back and forth. That should hold. Eli Hunt had attempted to fix it a few weeks earlier but had done a lousy job of it. Amateur.
Over the years, he had seen many people attempt home repairs on their own when they shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a hammer. At least it kept him in business. When they weren’t purchasing their own supplies, they were paying him to fix their mistakes.
Mrs. Warner walked in just as he was grabbing his bag of tools from the floor next to the check-in counter. Her lips parted in surprise. “Davis, what are you doing here?”
“Your door was broken,” he said, equally surprised that she’d be
