The Second-Best Haunted Hotel on Mercer Street

by Cory Putman Oakes

  “I’m here!” Bree announced, coming in through the front door. “I wouldn’t miss Pierce’s birthday!”

  One of the biggest changes to the Hotel Ivan, and the hardest one for Willow to come to terms with, was Bree’s departure. Once the Ivan was firmly back on its feet, Bree had decided the time was finally right to open her own photography business. She’d helped hire two new ghosts to replace her: a quietly efficient new officer manager named Bert (who came highly recommended on GhouledIn), and a promising new social media manager named Nadiya (who also worked part-time for Bree whenever she needed an assistant photographer).

  Willow missed seeing Bree every day. But since her new photography studio was right down the street, she still popped into the Ivan several times a week to have lunch or to check up on the new hires.

  “Bree!” exclaimed Evie, coming in from the back of the hotel. She was still wearing her Phantasm outfit and lending an arm to a headless Molly, but she dropped the Headless Horsewoman’s elbow in order to hug Bree. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

  “Me too!” Bree enthused, and then her voice turned very serious. “You’re all coming to my exhibit this Saturday, right?”

  There were nods all around.

  “Oh, good,” she said, sounding relieved. “It’s my first big event. I really need it to go well!”

  “We’re completely booked this weekend,” Willow told her, “but I think Bert can manage on his own for a few hours while the rest of us go. We wouldn’t miss it!”

  “Oh, Bert’ll be fine,” Bree said with a wink. “I trained him myself!”

  “I’m making it my mission to find my head before Saturday,” Molly announced. “Until then, though, would someone mind leading me to the party?”

  Bree took Molly’s arm.

  “Come on, Cuddles,” Bree said to the dog, who was running in circles around her legs. “Let’s go embarrass Pierce!”

  The three of them disappeared into the music room.

  “Ready for cake?” Evie asked Willow.

  “Almost,” Willow said as she straightened up some of the knickknacks on the front desk, including the (slightly dented) wooden plaque they’d received from the Zagged Guide.

  Evie blanched. “Ugh, can we please put that stupid thing away?”

  “What?” Willow asked, looking at the plaque in surprise. “Why would we do that?”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s our official Zagged ranking, after all,” Willow argued.

  Despite the editor’s assurances to Willow over the phone, the Zagged Guide had never sent another inspector to the Ivan. Once the company had fired Mr. Renard and every other member of staff that had been bribed by the Hauntery to rig reviews, they were left with barely enough employees to keep the publication in business. They still posted reviews from time to time, but nobody really seemed to care what the Zagged Guide thought of anything anymore.

  Willow hadn’t even bothered to remind Mr. Thompson to schedule a new inspection. Even if that meant that the Ivan was officially going to be number two forever, nobody at the hotel seemed to mind. Between the closing of the Mercer Street Hauntery and all the social media attention they’d been receiving about their whodunits, the Ivan was now booked solid through next Halloween.

  Willow still wasn’t sure if her mother’s theory about Fading was true or not. But with all those guests coming through, as well as Willow and her father’s newfound commitment to getting a life, there was more living going on at the Hotel Ivan than ever before. It might have been sheer coincidence, but Pierce’s hand had rematerialized, Antonia was back to using the flambé torch only on actual flambé, and Cuddles hadn’t had an accident in months.

  “The plaque stays,” Willow pronounced emphatically. “It reminds me of what happens when we stop being ourselves. Besides, it looks good there.”

  “The Living,” Evie muttered, rolling her eyes. “Hey, did I tell you that Louise got into the Cornell School of Hotel Management?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for having your dad write her that letter of recommendation.”

  “I was kind of surprised you wanted to help her, after everything she did.”

  Even now, months later, Evie still wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation she’d with Louise on the day they’d moved out of the Hauntery. Or why she’d decided to help the person who had tried so hard to ruin everything for her.

  She shrugged. “She’s family. What are you going to do, you know?”

  “I do know,” said Willow, looking fondly toward the music room. “Oh, and I meant to tell you! We got a very interesting reservation early this morning that I thought you’d want to see.”

  Willow turned the computer monitor so Evie could see it, then bit back a grin when Evie’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

  “Angelina Garcia!” Evie squealed. “Angelina Garcia’s coming here?!”

  “Yep!” Willow squealed back. “She told Pierce on the phone that she’s writing a sequel to The Clue in the Old Inn and is counting on the Ivan to inspire her! She’s booked a whodunit!”

  “We’ve got to come up with something amazing for that night,” Evie said with great feeling, and Willow could tell she was already thinking hard. “Something that will totally knock her socks off.”

  Willow grinned. “I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something. Maybe—”

  But before she could go on, Pierce entered the lobby.

  “Pierce!” Evie exclaimed, then pretended to look shocked. “Are you sure you’re four hundred and twenty years old today? You don’t look a day over four hundred and nineteen!”

  Pierce rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, walking resignedly toward the music room. “There’s not going to be singing, is there?”

  “Probably,” Willow admitted.

  Pierce heaved an enormous, bracing sigh just as Bert appeared in the doorway of the lobby.

  “Willow? Pierce? I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “The Fosters have rung down for room service, but the whole staff is in the music room for the party. I didn’t know what to do . . .”

  Pierce’s face fell as he turned away from the music room. “We can celebrate another night,” he said, as deadpan as ever.

  “No!” Willow said firmly. “No, we can’t. Let’s go blow your candles out, Pierce. The Fosters can wait.”

  “Are you sure?” Pierce asked. His expression was unreadable, but Willow caught sight of a tiny bit of moisture around his eyes.

  Willow nodded. “Only one thing comes before guests,” she said as she led Pierce and Evie into the music room. “And that’s family.”

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PIERCE!” the room exploded.

  Willow took a seat at the newly tuned piano and began to play. Everyone started dancing. At some point, somebody brought the Fosters a plate full of cake. Then there was more dancing.

  And Willow couldn’t help but think:

  If this is second best, who would ever want to be first?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  For better or for worse, the curse of “being a writer” is that no matter how much time and energy you dedicate to your craft, there’s always more to learn. After fourteen years in this industry and five books with my name on the cover, I’m floored by how much I still don’t know. But I’m happy to say that there are a few things I’ve found to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt:

  First, that I would be hopelessly lost without the wisdom and guidance of my amazing agent, Sarah LaPolla. Every writer needs a signpost in the fog, and you are mine. Thank you for having my back and always steering me in the right direction.

  Second, that every book eventually finds the home it’s destined to have. I’m thrilled that The Second-Best Haunted Hotel on Mercer Street found Abrams. Thank you to my brilliant editor, Erica Finkel, for acquiring the book (on Halloween, no less—your spooky sense of timing is just one of the many things I appreciate about you!) and for all
of your help bringing Willow and Evie’s story to the next level. My deepest gratitude to the whole team at Abrams, including Emily Daluga, Marie Oishi, Jenn Jimenez, Marcie Lawrence, Pam Notarantonio, Melanie Chang, Jenny Choy, Trish McNamara O’Neill, Mary Marolla, Megan Evans, Andrew Smith, Jody Mosley, Elisa Gonzales, Wendy Ceballos, and Michael Jacobs. Thanks to the delightful copyeditor, Alison Cherry. I am also thrilled to have had the chance to work with immensely talented Jane Pica.

  Third, that every writer needs a creative village. I am indescribably grateful for mine: the weird, wonderful, and extraordinarily talented folks of the Austin Kidlit community. Thank you to my ladies of the Lodge of Death; to the wonderful Cynthia Leitich Smith (and our always-epic breakfast dates); and to Book People for being exactly the sort of independent bookstore that Willow and Evie would just die to visit.

  Fourth, that there would be no new stories if there wasn’t already so much wonderful work out there to draw upon for inspiration. This book was heavily influenced by the following: You’ve Got Mail, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, RuPaul’s Drag Race, Beetlejuice, The Shining, and Nancy Drew. Special thanks to Lance Mullins (and Carrie D’Cross) for helping me to bring Leo and Leonata to life.

  Fifth, that I would be absolutely nothing without the love and support of the three people who matter most of all: Mark, Sophia, and Alex. I love you guys more than Halloween (which, as those who know me can attest, is a truly frightening amount!) Special thanks to (then-baby) Alex for refusing to sleep the night before his uncle’s wedding, giving me no choice but to walk him around the Fairmont San Jose for hours in the dead of night—in that type of situation, it’s impossible to not start brainstorming a book about a haunted hotel.

  Finally, that I will never adequately be able to express my gratitude to the people who pick up my books and decide to spend some time with them—but I’ll try anyway! Readers! Thank you for taking a chance on this story! I hope it haunts you (in the best possible way) for many years to come.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cory Putman Oakes was born in Basel, Switzerland, but grew up in Northern California. In addition to The Second-Best Haunted Hotel on Mercer Street, she’s also the author of two other middle grade novels (Dinosaur Boy and Dinosaur Boy Saves Mars) as well as two young adult novels (Witchtown and The Veil ). Cory is a former lawyer and an aspiring teacher who holds degrees from UCLA and Cornell Law School. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, Mark; their kids, Sophia and Alex; two cats; and a one-eyed hedgehog named Professor Pickles. If Cory were to come back as a ghost, she would find herself a beautiful, well-stocked library to haunt so she could spend her afterlife reading and snuggling some sort of ghost animal (like Cuddles).

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Jane Pica is an illustrator who has been drawing since she was a little kid. She’s a big fan of warm tea, Broadway soundtracks, and Disney movies, and she loves to draw characters that have big personalities. She lives and works as a freelance illustrator in Dubai.

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