Authors: Julie Carobini
Sweet Waters (8 page)
“No, wait!” Too late. She shakes her head and slips through the doorway. When she hesitates in the parking lot, and swivels in my direction, I think that maybe she has changed her mind about leaving. But then she says, “You will do just fine, dear,” and resumes her quick step to her car.
I continue to watch her go, my mind not quite accepting this sudden change in my plans. Threadlike clouds stretch out over the parking lot and appear to stop at the edge of the inn's property, threatening to suffocate me. Would it be too unbecoming if I were to quit even before I started? Instinctively, I know the answer to that, so I slink behind the front desk. My first day as a clerk at the Bayside has officially begun.
And I don't have a clue what to do next.
THE REGISTRATION CARDS HAVE been alphabetized, and keys to ready rooms attached. My attempts to reach Camille have failed, and I've accepted my fate, knowing she most probably is surfer watching for most of the afternoon. Thankfully, though, I'd seen Eliza Carlton do this over and over when her first husband, Charles, died and left her that tattered Bed & Breakfast in the Sierras to run. She had to deal with frozen pipes, wayward wolves, and unwelcome guests. So surely, I'd decided, I could handle a few hours alone in Nigel's inn.
Check-in time is still two hours off, and so I wait, thankful for the nearly constant cries from overflying gulls. They can be a nuisance, and yet their sound stands as a reminder of the nearby sand and swells. Between the birds and the waves, my mind falls into a relaxing lull, a surprise considering the circumstances.
The squeal of tires across the asphalt lot, followed by two door slams, pulls me out of my daze. I slide a hand over my ear to touch my upswept hair when Josh and a scrawny teenager with big eyes step into the lobby, each carrying a bucket of tools.
Josh stares at me.
I stare back.
He sets his bucket down, and extends his hand. “I'm Josh, and this is Mikey.”
I say hello, all the while taking in the green of his eyes and thickness of his brows. The lower half of his angular face wears an even layer of stubble, and yet it does nothing to hide the long, smooth dimples that sink into his cheeks even without a smile.
He drops his hand to his side, but still eyes me. “We haven't formally met until now. I didn't realize you were working here.”
“Well, that's . . . it's kind of a long story. I just started today.”
“Today? Oh so, is Tina around? Mikey and I are here to redo the wiring in a couple of the rooms.”
I thought you were a fireman.
“Hm, no, no Tina here today.”
“Hm, no, no Tina here today.”
He picks up the bucket. “That's okay, we can find Mary to show us what needs to be done.”
“Well, not exactly. Mary's gone too. And it's Betty's day off so I'm on my own today.”
Josh's forehead creases. “You don't happen to know which rooms need the work done, I suppose? We're part of a volunteer crew from our church, but unfortunately, I'm only around today to do this.”
Ah, a good Samaritan.
I think that maybe our parents took us to church when we were young. All I remember is a lot of singing and Play-Doh and seeing the hem of my mother's skirt up close as she talked with other ladies while I ate sticky doughnuts. Funny how the simplest thing can spark a memory.
I think that maybe our parents took us to church when we were young. All I remember is a lot of singing and Play-Doh and seeing the hem of my mother's skirt up close as she talked with other ladies while I ate sticky doughnuts. Funny how the simplest thing can spark a memory.
Behind the desk again, I begin rifling through the registration cards, losing a couple of keys in the process. Instead of a modern locking card system, dear Nigel's inn still lives in the 80s. The hotel keys bounce across the desk, making a metallic racket that draws even more attention to my novice status. I start to shake my head, and in my peripheral notice Mikey shift uncomfortably next to Josh. My fingers catch on a note.
“Here it is! Room 4 has an outlet on the west wall that doesn't work, and the bathroom outlet in room 6 needs a GF . . . hm.”
Josh looks over at Mikey. “Needs a GFCI socket.” He looks back to me. “Thanks. I'll need to get the keys from you and then we'll take care of it.”
I find the keys and hand them to him, our fingers touching in the exchange. His hand lingers over mine for a beat, and then he turns to leave. I begin fiddling with the key drawer when he stops, and turns back to me. “By the way, did you and your sister ever tour the castle?”
“No, actually, we haven't made it that far away yet. We had . . . well, we spent our time exploring Otter Bay instead.”
Mikey nudges Josh with his shoulder and starts to head down the hall. Josh hesitates before offering me a nod, his eyes warming me to my toes. “You should try to fit it in when you can. I might have some other ideas for you, if you need some.” He glances down the hall. “Better get going before Mikey tears into the wrong wall.”
I watch him go, mindful that I haven't looked at a man like this since early on with Trent. Probably not even then. Alone again with nothing but the hammer of my heart and a disheveled mess of registration cards, I think about Josh and how often we've run into each other in the past week. He caught my attention that first time at the dinerâwho wouldn't notice him with his effortless leap over the counter to rescue Peg? Not to mention that tangle of golden hair and rugged day-old beard. That day he eyed me with a mixture of curiosity and what might have been suspicion. After he showed up at the beach and doled out all that unasked-for advice, I started to wonder if any suspicion might be better aimed at
him.
But now he's here today, doing another good deed, and causing me to think about things I never thought I'd be considering any time soon.
him.
But now he's here today, doing another good deed, and causing me to think about things I never thought I'd be considering any time soon.
Dreamy thoughts.
Romantic notions.
Unrealistic expectations.
Trent is the only man I've loved for five years. Even when he criticized me for my less-than-sophisticated looksâmy lack of makeup and fine jewelry and haute coutureâeventually he'd scoop me into his arms and profess his forever love for plain old me.
Sometimes I still can't believe he walked away. After all the promises, and the talks about our future, everything I'd made myself believeâthat even ugly ducklings could live happily ever afterâturned out to be an aberration in the end.
Yet something about that fireman in room 4 has revived a spark of hope among the ashes. The thought so catches me that I don't notice Nigel shuffling into the lobby until he stands directly in front of his own counter.
“I see you have made yourself quite comfortable, and this is how it should be.”
“Nigel! HelloâI'm so glad to see you! I called your room but missed you.” I fill him in on all that's transpired since I arrived, and he just smiles as if this were any other day.
“Thank you for a job well done, Tara. Somehow I knew that you could handle whatever might come your way. However, since you have no hotel experience per se, allow me to join you behind the desk where I will teach you our system.”
Relief fills my chest, and I let out a held breath. “I'm so glad you're here, Nigel.”
He nods then, his beret staying securely on his head. Nigel's eyes are some of the kindest I've ever looked into, and a pang of sadness fills me as I realize how often I thought the same of my father's.
Our first guest of the afternoon arrives windblown, with lines etching the skin around her eyes. And yet she wears a telltale peaceful expression, the same kind I felt spread across my own face when I drove into Otter Bay for the first time in many years. The dramatic coastline and soft dunes will do that for a person. Of course, for me there's something more.
She takes the key to her room from me. “I just left the job from you-know-where, and boy, this feels like paradise. I may never want to leave!”
Who could know how she feels better than I?
After Nigel and I work side by side for over an hour, I notice him leaning more than ever on his cane. I smile at him. “Phew. Nothing like learning on your feet. Why don't you take a rest now. You've taught me enough that I think I can handle things for a little while.”
“You can handle more than you know.” So saying, he hobbles toward one of the floral couches in the lobby. He's barely had time to rest, when in walks trouble.
“Nigel Thornton! How could you let Holly desecrate my restaurant in this way!”
Holly's Aunt Peg may have been out of commission for a week, but if it's true what they sayâthat body parts strengthen after being broken and healedâshe's become one powerful lady. Her nostrils flare as air flows in and out of them, and she stands over poor Nigel, wagging a rigid finger at him. If it weren't so demeaning, I'd drop to my knees and pretend to look for a lost contact lens.
Unfortunately, in my haste my toes kick up against the trash bin. Distracted by the noise, Peg looks upward and sniffs the air like a dog. She spins toward me, that finger still stuck straight out in front of her. “You're new here.”
Nigel jabs his cane into the floor and pulls himself up to lean on it. “Peg, I'd like you to meet my new desk clerk, Tara. She'll be working in Tina's place, and perhaps even longer, if I can convince her of it.” A satisfied smile rests on his face.
“Hello, Peg. I just love your diner. My sister and I have breakfast there just about every morning.”
She narrows her eyes at me, not in a mean way, but in a way that says, “I'm assessing you.” Her flat, creased lips push into a pucker.
I continue. “I hope you're feeling better. I was there the day you, uh, the day you had your fall. I'm so sorry, but oh, Holly has done a terrific job keeping things going. You should be proud of her.”
“I've never seen you.”
“Well, that's because we're new here, my sister and I.” I reach out my hand. “Tara Sweet. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Her lips droop into a frown. They seem to fit naturally into that position, as if an upside down crescent had long been carved into her face. Before her fall I remember the way she pinned on a winning smile only to let it fall into that same frown as she passed by. I remember it because it stood in direct contrast to what I'd been feeling.
My hand dangles in front of her, but she doesn't take it. Instead, Peg turns her head slowly toward Nigel, who has lowered himself back onto the couch. She walks to him, her thickset body towering over his seated one, which looks small, frail.
“You”âshe says, through clenched teethâ“will be the death of me.”
Chapter Eight
Whatever new me had surfaced over the past few weeks as I prepared to live this adventure, I cast it all aside at the sight of this cranky woman rebuking Nigel. Out from behind the desk now, I'm standing close enough to hear Peg's angry, labored breathing.
“You'd better go.” I make little attempt to disguise the command in my tone. I did not come here to make enemies, but I also cannot stand to see such unworthy treatment of such a lovely man.
Peg swings around and, by the way she hunches her body, I expect to see daggers coming from her eyes. Instead, they are open wide, her pupils dilated, almost abnormally so. She swallows and backs away from me, like I'm a criminal who's jumped bail.
A distinct rattle grows in volume behind me. Josh's voice rolls over my shoulder. “So you're back to the grind already, Peg? Hope this doesn't mean the disappearance of Holly's crêpes again.”
Mikey snorts next to him. “Good one.”
Josh's sudden presence is like a glass of cool, mountain spring water on a blistering summer day. He sets down his bucket, leans comfortably against the rounded corner of the archway, and surprises me with a wink.
Apparently Peg has had a similar reaction to Josh, because she draws up straighter, and if I'm not mistaken, her deep frown has become more of a tiny dip. “I leave and that girl thinks she owns the place. But I'm back now and I'll be straightening that child out.”
“Let her be, Peg. She's still a kid, and who knows, you might just be raising an executive chef. Better give her some freedom.”
Peg harrumphs. “Or else some rope!”
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