Hurricanes in Paradise (4 page)

“It’s okay, really. You’re right. I stay too busy. I probably do need to eat a little more.”

“Did you come over here to tell me something before I blabbered like an idiot?”

“I came to tell you that we’re so glad to have you. I will be here this week to take care of any of your needs. You name it and I’m here for you. I want you to experience every part of the Atlantis that you desire to.”

“Well, I don’t really need much of anything. I’m just going to enjoy my room and maybe walk on the beach a little here or there. Have me a piña colada or two,” Winnie said with a wink, “and spend the rest of the week ignoring phone calls from my children.”

Riley opened the folded piece of paper she had in her hands. “Well, you might be able to ignore their calls, but it seems like they’ve packed your schedule with quite a few things. You’re swimming with the dolphins tomorrow—”

“I’m what? I’m not swimming with fish! If God wanted me to swim with fish, he’d have given me fins, not a life preserver,” she said, jiggling the flesh around her waist.

Riley laughed. “Well, that’s not all. You also have a day at the spa and tickets to a concert on Thursday night.”

“A day at the spa I can do. A concert? Who’s playing?”

“We have a special concert by Harry Connick Jr. on Thursday night.”

Winnie raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. “I like him. He reminds me of Sinatra. I met Frank once, you know.”

“Really? Ol’ Blue Eyes himself?”

“Yes,” she said, batting her own eyes at Riley. “He said my eyes were the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen.”

“Well, I’d have to agree with him.”

“My Sam liked them. Said they reminded him of the blue of the sky on a cloudless day. As if it were painted just for him.”

She saw the shift in Riley’s eyes. Compassion maybe. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Harris. Please, if there is anything you need, I’m here to serve you. I have a feeling you will enjoy yourself.” She nudged Winnie’s shoulder with her own. “And I have a feeling you’re a mess.”

“A perfect mess,” she giggled.

* * *

As soon as she got to her room, Winnie peeked out of the sliding doors to make sure they had honored her request. They had. There was no sign of the Beach Tower from her window, just the breathtaking ocean that only exists with this kind of beauty in the Bahamas. Seeing it now made her feel as if she were back on those white sands fifteen years earlier with Sam’s hand in hers as he hummed their favorite song and they dug their toes into the cool sand.

She shook away the memory, scolded it like a ninth grader, and batted back at the grief that had shamelessly tried to reach the surface. She wouldn’t allow it. She hadn’t allowed it for three years, so why in the world would she begin today?

* * *

“Have you found your replacement?” Laine Fulton asked her assistant of only one month with her controlled tone.

There was stammering on the other end. She hated stammering. “It’s not a multiple-choice question. Have you found your replacement?” Her words came out deliberate. “Because turning in a book cover without me approving the final copy pretty much guarantees you’ll need to. So why don’t you take this week while I’m away to find one. You can e-mail me résumés. I’ll expect to see some by tomorrow.”

Laine hit the End button on her iPhone. She pulled her Tumi carry-on behind her. Her black patent flats with wide silver buckles strode across the carpeted corridor in an unbroken stride. She stuck twenty dollars in the hand of a young man leaning on the arm of his luggage cart and told him to grab her bags. When he had pulled both of them off the carousel, he followed her outside.

The afternoon Bahamian sun quickly warmed her gray, skinny-leg 7 For All Mankind jeans and black Dolce & Gabbana tank sweater as soon as she exited the airport. When all your clothes were dark, mixing and matching was easy.

“I’m Laine Fulton,” she said, extending her hand to the man holding a sign that bore her name. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black ponytail holder. Though her white-blonde hair barely grazed the top of her shoulders, she could still pull it back, leaving her bangs to brush the corners of her eyes.

“Welcome to the Bahamas, Ms. Fulton. A pleasure to have you here.”

She caught a glimpse of his name tag and puffed air. “Thank you, Roy.”

He gave her a smile and opened the car door, showing no response to her sarcasm. She held his friendly black eyes. She wasn’t sure why. She just did.

“Where are you from, Ms. Fulton?”

She hated small talk with strangers. “California.”

He held on to the handle. “Oh, you have beautiful weather all the time. So is it work or pleasure that brings you to our tropical paradise?”

“All work. Always work.” She whispered the last statement more to herself.

“Well, do try to fit in some pleasure, ma’am. There is much to enjoy here.”

She placed her hand on the inside handle of the door. “I write the stories that tell others what they can enjoy.”

“Well, when you’re writing your story, be sure and let them know that the Bahamas here are known for their healing waters.”

“Is that so?” she asked as she climbed into the car.

He held the door open a moment longer. “Yes, but there’s a catch.”

She turned her face toward him. “And what would that be?” She resisted the urge to grab the door from his hand.

“No one can be healed when they won’t let go of their disease.”

“Well, then let’s thank God I’m not sick.” She didn’t resist any longer. She reached for the door to pull it closed. He resisted at first, then gave her a nod and closed it for her.

Something brooding yet kind was behind his dark eyes. She watched him for a few moments, then turned to look out the window. When her car pulled up to The Cove, she was still trying to shake his words.

* * *

“Ms. Fulton.” A brown-eyed woman addressed her as she stepped from her car. Her Southern accent would be certain to irritate her if Laine had to listen to it for the next week.

Laine reached out and shook the woman’s hand. “You must be Riley.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to have you here with us at the Atlantis.”

“Please, no
ma’am
is necessary. Everything taken care of?”

“Yes. Everything is ready and waiting for you. I’ve already checked you in and have your keys.” Riley gave her a smile and motioned for one of the valets. “Bart, take this up to Ms. Fulton’s room.” She handed him a room key inside a paper sleeve. “May I walk you up?”

“Sure. I’d prefer that.” The air was balmy even in the open-air architecture. Laine could hear the ocean as if it were a subtle background to the elements of nature that surrounded her. “Beautiful place you have here, Riley.”

“Thank you. We think so, and we’re glad you chose this for the setting of your new book. We’ve never had a novel set here before.”

“I know. That’s what I do. I like to take people to places they’ve never been. My last book was set in Dubai.”

“Yes, I heard. Sorry, I haven’t read it.”

“You’re never supposed to tell an author you haven’t read her books.”

Riley laughed nervously.

Laine let her rest in her uneasiness. “Tell me about the architect.”

“Jeffrey Beers was our interior architect. He wanted our guests to have a ‘sensory journey,’ as he called it. That’s why you have everything encapsulated here, from the sounds of the ocean and the movement of the palm trees to all the earthy elements and natural colors.”

They passed tropical foliage that surrounded a water garden and came upon Sea Glass. Riley motioned toward it. “This is our open-air lounge. It’s sophisticated and a great place to relax with a drink or just a peaceful place to enjoy the ocean.”

Laine could appreciate the detail, the contemporary yet still-soft lines of the exclusive resort. She had traveled the world. She knew how to appreciate beautiful things.

Riley continued. “And this is ESCAPE. It’s the first store location of Eva Jeanbart-Lorenzotti’s. She carries some fabulous haute couture items, and it is all duty-free.”

“Good. The government gets enough of my money.”

“I don’t know a person who would disagree.”

They entered the covered foyer of the actual suites at The Cove. The ceiling was as high as the outdoor corridors. “Hey, Gerard,” Riley said to a young man at the concierge’s desk. “This is Ms. Fulton. Gerard will be helping to make your stay as enjoyable as possible.”

“Oh yes, ma’am. Absolutely.” He extended his hand. “It will be my pleasure, Ms. Fulton.”

Laine accepted it and nodded her head graciously. “Nice to meet you, Gerard.”

“And you too, ma’am. I am available to you 24-7. It’s my pleasure to serve you this week.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

Laine followed Riley to the elevators. As the door closed behind them, the small talk Laine hated began. “You’re from Los Angeles?”

Laine exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“I’ve only been there a couple times. It’s very interesting. Completely different pace.”

“It fits me fine.” Laine paused for a moment, then took over the conversation. “So tonight I’d like us to have dinner at Mesa Grill; then tomorrow night I would prefer to eat at . . .” She stopped when she saw the slightly panicked look on Riley’s face. “I’m sorry; did you not realize I’d need you with me this week?”

“Oh, well . . . yes . . . sure, of course. This week is about you, and I’m here for you. So Mesa Grill is fine.”

“You’re hesitating?”

“No, no. I’m not at all. What time would you like to go?” Riley pulled out her phone. “I’ll make our reservations.”

“I’m an early eater because I go to bed pretty early and get up before the sun. So let’s say . . .” She looked at the white face of her two-tone Baume & Mercier watch. It was already two o’clock. “. . . six o’clock.”

The doors of the elevator opened, and they walked out onto the geometrically patterned carpet in rich jewel tones.

Riley hesitated slightly again. “Sure . . . yeah, six will be fine.”

“If you had plans, Riley . . .”

“No, no. . . . My job is to make sure you have everything you need. It’s my pleasure. And you just let me know where you’d like to go tomorrow, and I’ll make sure that we have reservations for those places as well.”

“I was going to say, if you had plans, you needed to cancel them.”

She watched as Riley’s head snapped back slightly and her eyes widened. “Oh. Well, no worries, then. Because I didn’t have any plans.”

Riley slipped the key into a room at the end of the hallway and pushed the door open to one of the twenty-six coveted Sapphire Suites. Laine walked across the marbled floors of the foyer and into the expansive space of the seventeen-hundred-square-foot suite. She kept going until she looked straight out through the wall of windows in front of her. The azure ocean seemed to begin where her living room ended. It was as if she could step out the door and walk on the water.

“Do you like it?” Riley asked.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Laine said as she continued toward the double doors that led into the bedroom. She noticed the desk sitting in front of the window and felt a thud in her chest. She stopped abruptly. “Mitchell called you?”

“Um, yes, he did. Why? Is there a problem?”

Laine chewed at the inside of her lip, then turned to Riley. “No . . . no. I just saw the desk.”

“He said you like to look at the ocean when you write.”

Laine walked to the entrance of the bedroom and spoke without turning around. “I’m going to unpack now. I’ll meet you for dinner at six.”

Laine could tell Riley got the message. She heard her feet stepping back onto the marble. “Well, I’ll just leave your keys here on the foyer table. If you need anything before dinner, just let Gerard or me know. We’ll be more than glad to bring you anything. No need to call room service or housekeeping. Just dial one and that will get Gerard, and two will reach me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Laine said as she leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom. “See you at six.” She still didn’t turn around.

When she heard the click as the door closed, she set her Louis Vuitton canvas handbag at the doorway of the bedroom and headed back into the living room. She scanned the inviting tones of the cream sectional; the dark wood coffee table; and the coral accents of sofa pillows, lampshades, and floor-to-ceiling draperies. The colors were similar to the tones the architect had chosen throughout The Cove and were all woven together in a large area rug that rested beneath them as their anchor and in the abstract, hand-painted artwork that hung on the large wall separating the master bedroom and living room. She walked around the sofa and pulled open the large sliding door. The music of the surf, the smell of salt, and the rush of warm air burst through as if they had been toddlers waiting to get inside.

She walked onto the balcony that wrapped around her suite and leaned against the iron railing. As she began to relax, her phone rang. Tension flared. When she reached the phone, Mitchell’s picture stared back. She hesitated. It just made it harder. The more he called, the harder he made it. That’s why she had fired him. She had to eliminate all contact. But he wouldn’t quit contacting her. Her ruby and diamond ring, which was now the only ring she wore, flashed from her right hand as she hit Accept.