Meet Ms. Mia, a modern-day Miss Marple with a humorous twist, in a private island paradise, as she solves this classic murder mystery.
Meet Ms. Mia, a modern-day Miss Marple with a humorous twist, solving murder mysteries in glamorous resorts.
A luxurious private island paradise, with palm trees and white sand beaches, sets the stage for this classic cozy mystery.
Ms. Mia, a vibrant woman of a certain age, savors all life's experiences—and if someone's unhappy, she cheerfully rearranges their life to her satisfaction. At Spinel Resorts, a luxurious chain of boutique hotels founded by her late husband, mysteries lurk in luxurious paradises.
Arriving at the Grand Island Hotel, Ms. Mia immediately spots trouble. A second honeymoon bitterly unraveling, a woman fleeing grief, a writer wallowing in extremely public scenes, and a wife who seems, ahem, very intimate with her tennis pro. When murder strikes her luxury resort, Ms. Mia discovers her talent as an amateur sleuth, diving into the investigation with charm, wit—and a glass of champagne. No one gets away with murder at her island paradise!
This cozy whodunit is perfect for fans of Donna Andrews' Meg Langslow, Joanne Fluke's Hannah Swenson and Carolyn Hart's Annie Laurance, blending witty sleuthing with resort glamour.
Check in to the first Ms. Mia Murder Mystery with Ms. Mia and Murder at the Grand Island Hotel!
Billy pulled up to the airport sidewalk in the hotel limousine and grinned at the mountain of luggage. Ms. Mia had brought everything with her, as usual. He held out his hand to the small woman beside the luggage tower. “Good to see you, Ms. Mia.”
“It's been a few months, Billy. It's good to see you, too.” She got into the car with only her handbag, confident that Billy would handle the luggage. She relaxed into the soft leather seat, patiently waiting for her driver.
The elderly driver carefully plac ed each piece into the trunk, then slid into his seat. “Have a nice flight?”
“Yes, thanks . ” Mia met his eyes in the mirror. “So, how are things? Are the kids doing well?”
“And their kids, too. Five grandkids and the next on the way,” he sighed. “I think the y turned my hair gray.” He smoothed his silvery crop, then propped his elbow up on the window frame.
“Nonsense, Billy . M y kids are grown, and my hair's not gray yet .” She patted the defiantly blond strands and laughed. “I know Jolie is having the time of her life.”
“She is indeed. Never seen so many kids running through the house,” Billy told her. “And the house always smells like fresh cookies.” He grinned, a network of wrinkles mapping his face. “I even get to some before the grandkids.”
“Just a few?”
“Well, you know . ” Billy patted his stomach.
“How's the hotel?” Mia asked him. “Any complaints?”
“About the same as usual,” Billy assured her. “Guests last week complained the menu did n ’ t hav e enough choices. They mostly wanted stuff not in season, like L owcountry B oil . Y ou know how Chef's picky about seasonal ingredients.”
“I know, but that's a classic dish people want when they come here.” Mia pulled a tiny notebook out of her purse and made a note with her rose pink fountain pen. “Even when the closest fresh corn is from South America. Maybe Chef can modify it for the season. He could call it Spring Lowcountry Boil or something.” She saw him wrinkle his nose in disgust and chuckled softly .
“That's about it with the hotel, ma'am. Maria handles the hotel beautifully.” He frowned, creases deepening . “There's something odd about some of the guests right now, though.”
“What's going on?” She cocked her head to one side.
“Well, you know Rebecca and Sam Forrest, of course?”
“Yes, she runs HR out of Atlanta . ” Mia smiled. “Nice girl. We've worked together a lot.”
“Hardly a girl,” Billy returned. “But very nice. She and her husband are supposed to be recreating their honeymoon for their anniversary. It's definitely not going well.” He shook his head. “She mostly sits on the beach and reads . H e sits in the room and reads. About as miserable as a honeymoon gets. I don't think that marriage is going to last long.” He clicked his tongue. “It's too bad. Nice couple. Young kids.”
“Hmm,” Mia said. “I'll have to find out what's going on there.” She looked up. “Is that what's worrying you, Billy?”
“Well, that's not good, of course. Not with one of our own. But they're not the only people who aren't having much fun at our beautiful hotel.”
“That famous writer, Harold Stone, is staying with us. His assistant's not having much fun, but I can't imagine any of his assistants ever do. I'm not worried about her. She'll have fun when she quits and finds an employer who doesn't treat her like dirt. But he's always blowing up at the hospitality team, in public too, and seems miserable. Can't nothing make him happy.”
“He's a big name . ” Mia tapped her pen thoughtfully. “It wouldn't be good if he badmouthed Spinel Hotels.”
“No, it wouldn’t , ” Billy agreed. “ T here are a few others that seem like they might become a problem, but Mr. Stone is the only real trouble, I think. The rest are nice couples having a good time, a few families, some weddings. A few people enjoying the coast in the spring. They're mostly just having fun.”
“Well, that's what we want . ” Mia closed her notebook with a snap . “I plan to do a lot of relaxing this trip.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Spinel London . ” Mia grimaced. “I had to find a new manager. The one there came with great recommendations, but just wasn't up to our standards. It was a very long trip.” She gazed out the car window at the distant blue water and sighed. “The island always feels like coming home.”
“It would, wouldn't it?” Billy said with a grin. “You were one of the first managers at this hotel . Before my time, of course. I was still in the Marines.” He had retired from the Marines years ago and had worked at several of the Spinel Hotels. This was his home base, where his very extended family lived. He called his various years working abroad “sabbaticals.” With all the grandkids, he and his wife needed some breaks .
“Yes . A nd I met Leo here.” Mia smiled fondly. Her husband of over thirty years had died two years ago, leaving her with happy memories, two wonderful stepsons, and their daughter. They had lived in the company's hotels most of their married life, except when the kids were young. They had spent a few months setting up or improving a hotel, leaving when everything was perfect and moving on to the next hotel. Every day with her husband had been an exciting adventure. After his death, she tried to keep that same adventurous approach to life.
“Here's the bridge,” Billy called as they drove across the long metal span connecting Grand Island to the mainland. “Welcome home. ”
The limo rattled across the arch of the bridge. On one side, the bay reached to the horizon. The other was rimmed with salt marsh, tall grass swaying over the water. She rolled down the window. Salt wind tugged at her hair. The tide was in, covering the mud flats and bringing in the smell of the deep ocean. Sweet, cool air, laced with salty iodine, flooded the car. With one last clunk of metal, they were on the island.
“Home sweet home,” Mia said softly. G reen azalea bushes lin ed the main road through the island. Live oaks garlanded with Spanish moss met overhead, framing the road in a long, green tunnel . In a few more weeks , the azaleas would be covered in pink blossoms .
Mia planned a short stay, for her, of three weeks. Then the hotel would hit high season, and she would be off to the next hotel. E arly spring was gorgeous on the Georgia coast.
The Spinel Grand Island Hotel spread over the entire small island. Being just a few miles long, it wasn't really a grand island except for the name and the majestic live oaks. But Grand was definitely the right name for the hotel. Going there felt like stepping into an older, more luxurious era. You could stay in adorable cottages or extravagant villas, play on a superb golf course, and bike oyster shell paths through the palmetto palms to the beach. A huge new fishing pier was attached to one side of the island, with an attendant boathouse for those who took their fishing and boating very seriously.
And there was the main hotel complex. It was a robber baron's dream come true, quite literally. Turrets and bay windows bulged out from the main fa ç ade, painted a putty white , like the oyster shell paths . You could stay in one of the little round tower rooms with a view encompassing the entire island. Or perhaps in one of the larger suites, a few stories down with a private balcony shaded by gaily striped awnings and a sweeping view of the seashore. There were no small rooms at the Spinel Grand Island Hotel.
Mia ’s eyes sparkled at her first sight of the extravagant building. Large columned porches wrapped around the building like icing on a wedding cake . G reat ferns hung from the high, haint - blue ceilings and r ocking chairs with plump cushions sat easy on the porches. Ceiling fans lazily turned, making sure there was always a faint breeze. It was good to be back.
“I'm not sure where they've put me this time, Billy.”
“You're in Rose Cottage this trip, ma'am. It was redone about a month ago, so it'll be nice, and you can help to polish off any rough edges. Where do you want to go first?”
“Oh, the main building , as usual. Can you please drop my bags off at the cottage?”
“No problem. I'll see you around, Ms. Mia.”
Billy drove off, leaving Mia standing outside the tall, hand-carved doors, which promptly opened.
“Mrs. Spinel,” the young man greeted her with slick enthusiasm. “I'm so glad you've arrived. The driver's taken your luggage to Rose Cottage?”
“Oh yes, Billy took care of it.” Mia looked around the lobby.
It was set up as an old grand hotel, with relaxing conversation areas and small nooks to read alone. A massive antique desk was used as the concierge desk . Wide French doors swung out onto the wraparound porches, propped open to let a sea breeze drift through the building. Bowls of red roses graced the tables, adding their lush fragrance to the salty air. The hotel felt like staying in a n opulent private house in the Roaring Twenties . Unsurprisingly, since the mansion at the core of the hotel had been built in that era .
She loved the luxurious casualness of the grand room sweeping to the magnificent staircase. It was a wonderful place to sit, people watch, and maybe meet new friends. The small groupings of comfortable chairs encouraged conversations between strangers.
The young man introduced himself, “I’m the assistant manager, Trey Sulley.” He stretched out his hand, and Mia automatically clasped his . His manicured hand was hot and dry. His Southern uniform of chinos and form - fitting button-down shirt in a burgundy red was expensively custom-fitted . His smooth, dark hair was exquisitely sculpted into the latest men's style. “I'm so glad to finally meet you, Mrs. Spinel. What would you like to do first? Can I bring you anything ?”
“I'd love a glass of sweet ice tea. ” She'd missed sweet tea in the past few months. Sweet ice tea was just not done in London.
Trey waved his hand at a waitress passing by with a full tray. “Sweet tea for Mrs. Spinel, Dorrie.”
“Hi, Ms. Mia. Welcome back!” She smiled at Mia, glossy black hair swinging as she efficiently made her way through the room .
“What else would you like?” Trey clearly wanted to be noticed by the boss.
“I'm going to just find a nice place to sit and relax, Trey.” She nodded in dismissal . H e moved away, his mouth downturned, upset at not immediately impress ing her.
Mia looked around and found a good vantage point to see the entire room. She settled into the high-backed linen arm chair and gave a contented sigh . When she first arrived at a hotel, she always spent time relaxing in the public areas and getting a feel for the place. A few hours spent in the main lounge could tell her most of what she needed to know about any hotel.
Dorrie placed a gleaming silver tray with a coolly sweating glass of ice tea and a fluffy biscuit on a thoughtfully placed table. “I thought you might want a little something to tide you over until dinner, Ms. Mia. I always forget whether jet lag is coming or going to England, but planes aren't fun to eat in either way.”
“Thanks, Dorrie . T he biscuit smells wonderful.” She spread butter from the porcelain dish on the biscuit . The smell of hot biscuit filled her nose. The first bite was as good as it smelled , f laky and fluffy at the same time. She sighed in delight, “There's nothing like real Southern food, is there?”
“No, ma'am . ” The young waitress bustled away, looking pleased she'd thought to bring the biscuit.
Mia slowly finished her biscuit and sipped her ice tea, surveying the room. It was still early for people to gather before dinner . Most people would be out biking, golfing, or walking on the beach. That was why they came to the island, after all.
Only a few people sat in the lobby now. A red-faced, overstuffed man sat solidly next to the empty fireplace, complaining to a limp woman , her petite face over whelmed by her big glasses. They were arguing loudly over a stack of paper s.
Mia frowned. Why argue in the lobby? She was old school enough to believe arguments, if they had to happen at all, should take place in private. She arched her eyebrow as he slurred an unintelligible diatribe. The man was drunk.
As she watched, Dorrie went over to the couple, proffering a plate of biscuits. Smart girl, Mia thought. Get some food in to the drunk.
The man grabbed the tray from her , shoving a n entire biscuit in his mouth. He chewed roughly, crumbs dribbling down his shirt. He washed the biscuit down with what looked like straight bourbon.
His companion cautiously took a biscuit on her plate and broke off a small piece . She placed that in her mouth , but crumbl ed the rest of the biscuit with a thin hand. She spoke softly to the man in a soothing tone .
With a grimace, h e barked a command at her, but seemed to calm down with food.
As Dorrie passed Mia , she asked, “Is there anything else you'd like, ma'am?”
“No, that was perfect.” She nodded discreetly at the couple. “What's going on there?”
Dorrie said quietly , “That's Harold Stone, the writer, and his assistant, Sylvie something. He comes here every day after lunch and starts his serious drinking. From what I can see, s he comes so he can yell at her. He's supposed to be finishing a book, but I don't know when he has the time.”
Mia pursed her lips. “That's too bad. I loved his last few books.” She looked at the red-faced drunk. “Of course, I hadn't met the author yet.”
“Put that off while you can.” Dorrie hurried away, taking Mia's empty tray.
Mia looked around at the rest of the big room. A nice-looking elderly gentleman sat discreetly snoozing in a cozy chair in a corner, resting up for dinner. A family with at least five kids came chattering through the lobby, carrying tennis rackets. She hoped they'd remembered to reserve enough courts. An elderly couple, dressed in sensible walking shoes with binoculars swinging around their necks, came through on their way to dress for dinner. Birdwatchers, she thought.
An obviously honeymooning young couple walked toward the beach, hand in hand. A woman with glossy black hair and an expensive bathing wrap strolled in from the pool , pausing by the reception desk.
The assistant manager, Trey, commanded the reception desk. It was odd for an assistant manager to be manning reception here . She wondered if it was for her benefit or if they were short-staffed. He smiled obsequiously as he moved around the desk. He touched the attractive woman’s arm as he offered evening entertainment options .
Mia was thinking about wandering down to the beach when a loud hail rang through the lobby . “Mia!”
A tall young woman with brown hair and eyes to match strode briskly toward her, smiling warmly. She wore wide, loose white pants, a cranberry - colored top, and carried a striped beach bag. She wasn't exactly pretty, but she glowed with health and love of life.
“Rebecca ! ” Mia ’s face lit with pleasure . “Billy told me you were here on a getaway with Sam. I'm so glad to see you!”
Rebecca collapsed gracefully into the chair next to her and said in her warm honey voice, “I'm glad to see you, too. It's been ages since you stopped for long in Atlanta. ” She dropped her bag on the floor with the soft thud of a book. “ I was reading on the beach. It's so relaxing to lie there, breath ing in the salt air and hear ing the waves splash.” Her warm voice darken ed , “Sam doesn't like sand in his book . H e's had one client emergency after another, so he's stayed in the room most of the day. Some second honeymoon.”
“You've had a nice day, though,” Mia reminded her.
“Yes, I just wish Sam had been there.” Rebecca smiled ruefully. “Oh well, that's Sam.”
“Husbands always have their quirks,” Mia commented. Mine certainly had , she thought privately. She'd adored Leo, but no one was perfect.
“Yes . It ’s just supposed to be a romantic trip.” Rebecca looked around the lounge with restless discontent . “It's such a great hotel — always been one of my favorites, besides the fact that it's so close to home.”
Most Spinel Hotels employees chose to vacation at other hotels in the company, where they got considerable discounts during the off-season. It was a much-loved perk of the job, and there was considerable friendly competition about outdoing their fellow employees on a stay.
“So have a romantic dinner tonight,” Mia suggested. “Pull out all the stops. Dress in something gorgeous, drink champagne. That little fancy dining room should have some soft piano music and delicious food. Or you can order room service and cover the room with roses. Pretend it really is your honeymoon.”
Rebecca ’s warm smile spread across her face. “I will. Sam needs to leave the room for at least some of our vacation, so I'll go change and drag him to the dining room.” She looked hopeful. “A nice dinner together, no kids asking for stuff constantly, that should bring some romance out.”
“Just relax and have fun, Rebecca. Remember, it's a vacation.” Mia smiled. “Go change and have a nice night.” She stood up and stretched. “I'd better go change myself.”
“Changing for dinner is one of the lovely things about staying in hotels, isn't it?” Rebecca swung her bright beach bag back on her shoulder. “It feels wonderful to choose special clothes and have someone else make dinner for a change. I'll see you later!” She bounced away with re new ed enthusiasm.
Mia walked over to Trey at the reception desk , leaning forward confidentially . “Would you send a chilled bottle of nice champagne up to Rebecca and Sam Forrest's room?” she asked. “Pull out a few stops with a cheeseboard and a big bouquet of red roses , as well. P ut it on my tab.”
Trey frowned a little at the favoritism , but said efficiently, “Yes, Mrs. Spinel. I'll do that right away.”
“ Thanks. I want them to get it immediately. And please make reservations for tonight in that quiet corner in the small dining room . T ell them I made them.”
“Yes, Mrs. Spinel, Mrs. Sotos wanted to have dinner with you at six-thirty in the Grand Palmettos Dining Room , if that's convenient?”
“I'd love to, but I'm going to take a quick nap to get over jet lag. Tell her eight o'clock would be perfect.” Mia looked forward to seeing the hotel manager again.
“Yes, ma'am . ” Trey picked up the phone efficiently .
Mia left for her cottage.
Rebecca hummed as she ran up the stairs, skipping the elevator. Thank goodness Mia was here. She could be a very demanding boss, but if you did the work, it paid off. Mia also meddled in everyone's private life, which was one of the reasons her loving family loved her traveling around the world, interfering in the family hotels rather than in their love lives.
But Rebecca had reached the point where she desperately needed help with her marriage, and Mia might just be it. They had two adorable but demanding kids, and that certainly cut into their love life. In the past year, they'd grown distant, Sam almost pushing her away and retreating into his shell. He spent more and more time in his office, less at home. Being the new junior partner in his law firm took all of his time. She didn't think he was having an affair in the hours away from home. He had just been depressed and seemed so far away.
She'd planned this trip to rejuvenate their marriage, but all it was doing was touching the sore spots. On the island, away from home, there wasn't the excuse of kids' activities or the office. There was only them, Sam and Rebecca, and they seemed like distant strangers instead of the best friends they had been. She'd escaped to the beach today because she couldn't stand the stress of being so close and feeling so distant. She'd needed a break.
She would take Mia's advice and treat tonight like a date night. Rebecca took a deep breath and opened the door to their suite. Tonight was date night, and they were going to have fun, no matter what he felt like.
“Hi, honey,” she sang. “I'm home.”
“Out here,” he called from the balcony off the living room of their suite. She smiled at him as he sat in the deck chair , enjoying the waning sun and sea air. “Did you have a nice day, dear? I saw you head for the beach, but couldn't spot you out there, even with that bright bag.”
Her heart softened as she looked at him , liking his lean , dark legs and long , intelligent face. He looked in better spirits than he had when she'd left. “I walked for a bit, then camped under a palm tree. It's still pretty hot in full sun, even in March.”
“Yes, I enjoyed reading on the balcony. I even took a nap. Pleasant shade and breeze.” Sam was tall, like Rebecca, but without her relaxed charm. He was stiff and very precise around most people, but he used to relax around her.
They smiled hesitantly at each other and both started to speak at the same time. There was a knock at the door.
“I'll get it . ” Rebecca dropped her bag and opened the door.
A white-jacketed waiter wheeled in a cart with champagne nestled in an icy silver bucket and a covered tray of hors d'oeuvres. The smell of red roses filled the room. “Courtesy of Mrs. Spinel. She says you have reservations at eight o'clock in the Hammock Dining Room.”
Sam came inside . “Wow, that looks good.”
“I ran into Mia in the lobby. Wasn't this sweet of her?” Rebecca ’s warm, happy smile was just for him . H e smiled back at his wife. This was going to be a wonderful evening.
The waiter popped the cork with a muffled bang and poured their glasses, bubbles sparkling, then left. They clinked glasses. “To us,” Rebecca said, and he repeated hopefully, “to us.”
Mia loved dressing for dinner. Her cottage had a small dressing table in an alcove with very flattering lighting. Perched on the little pink stool, she ran a touch of mascara on her eyelashes. She liked wearing makeup, but only to lightly enhance her blue eyes. She saved the color for her lips. She swept cherry-red lipstick on her still full lips and smiled at herself in the mirror.
Finishing with two large blue spinel and diamond earrings, she remembered Leo, her husband. He'd always given her spinels because of their name. He'd presented her with these for their tenth anniversary . T hey were gorgeous. She clasped a matching necklace around her neck and slipped into a simple, deep blue dress she'd bought in Paris last year.
If Leo were alive, he'd smile and toast her, “Here's looking at you, kid.” Since he wasn't, she toasted herself, sipping from a champagne flute.
Her lips curved softly , thinking of how she'd surprised Rebecca and Sam with champagne. There was nothing like champagne to give an evening a bit of glamorous sparkle. Mia was going to make it her mission to fix that marriage. She remembered how hard life had seemed when Leo was gone all the time. It had taken time to settle into her new role as mother to her stepsons, with her husband absent. If they hadn't been able to get away together and relax sometimes, life would have been much harder. It was important to take time to enjoy life. So few people practiced the art of savoring life now.
She hoped this trip to the Spinel Grand Island would be a relaxing one. The manager, Maria Sotos, was an old friend and usually had everything superbly organized . So far, everything seemed to be running well. She'd know after a week here what changes needed to be made, if any.
She touched up her bright lipstick one more time and closed the door of the cottage behind her with a soft click.
The Grand Palmettos Dining Room was warm and inviting, a gorgeous glittering ballroom with crisp white tablecloths and sparkling silver candlesticks. Every surface reflected the candlelight, creating a warm glow. Perfume from red roses in extravagant floral arrangements filled the room. Music flowed from a grand piano playing soft classic s on a small platform at the back of the restaurant, accompanied by happily chattering guests, clinking of silverware, and crystal glasses chiming in toasts.
“Mrs. Sotos will be here shortly, Ms. Mia,” Bernard, the headwaiter, informed her, pulling out her chair at her usual corner table with a good view of the dining room. “May I bring you some appetizers and champagne to begin?”
“That would be lovely,” Mia ’s eyes twinkled at him, enjoying herself.
It really was a lovely room. The tall French doors lined two opposite sides of the room . The view was gorgeous during the day, but now the windows were draped in rich blue velvet, the same color as her dress. She looked down at her dress, pleased at the planned coordination.
Light sparkled around the room , creating an intimate dining area as well as a wonderful place for a party. There seemed to be two large wedding groups here, Mia noticed. One group was herded in to a private alcove just off the main dining room, and the other, smaller group was shepherded to a large round table in the center of the room.
She liked having wedding groups at the hotel, but she always hired a separate expert wedding planner to handle the incredible planning involved. T hey usually had an additional events assistant or two during their local high season , as well. In the Georgia Sea Islands, that w as April through June. It was incredible what brides and their mothers could want at the last minute — and the Spinel Grand Island delivered. T wo families and all their friends coming together to celebrate an important life change was a very special event.
The headwaiter brought her a crystal glass of champagne at the perfect temperature , and some pastries to nibble on. “Is there anything else, ma'am?”
“Thank you, Bernard, this is perfect.”
The elderly man she'd noticed napping in the lobby now had his family with him. No wonder he'd been asleep. Three very active boys and the man's daughter all talked at once to him. He had needed a few minutes away from the crowd.
The birdwatchers had settled into a corner table, observing people instead of birds. She was in discreet black plumage, with a strand of pearls hanging low instead of binoculars. He was in a proper gray evening suit with a bright red tie, polished ebony cane hooked over his chair arm, substituting for his trekking pole. Mia met their eyes briefly, and they smiled at each other in polite curiosity .
Maria Sotos came hurrying across the room, dressed in an elegant black dress with a silk scarf draping her neck, giving soft pink color to her complexion.
“Mia, I'm so sorry I'm late. There was a problem with the door systems. Trey got the computers sorted out, luckily, so everything is working now.” She sat down with relief. “I don't know why everything happens at once. One of the guests mislaid their laptop, but it turned out they'd left it in the lobby while they were working.”
“That's fine, Maria, you know the hotel always comes first.” Mia brightened in greeting. “Is everything okay now?”
“Oh yes . N o problems now,” Maria reassured her. “It's good to see you. I think it's been at least six months since you were here, hasn't it?”
“At least,” Mia replied. “So what new dishes do you have to taste?”
“Mmm,” Maria mused. “There's a lovely shrimp dish. Not quite Shrimp Étouffée, but in that direction. The chef calls it Grand Island shrimp and serves it with some of the locally grown Lowcountry rice. It's just the right amount of spicy.”
“That sounds perfect.” Mia loved trying new dishes.
Maria motioned the headwaiter over and ordered for them. Mia watched her, smiling. Who would have thought little Maria, the concierge , with her big smile and long bouncy ponytail, would now be running the hotel? She had started working under Mia thirty years ago. For the last fifteen years, she had been running the hotel with incredible success as the manager.
Maria had kind brown eyes and hair dyed to her youthful brunette, but now in a smart, shoulder-length cut . She'd gained some weight over the years Mia had known her, but she'd also gained a warm motherly glow. That wasn't surprising, since she had two almost-grown children.
“How are the kids?” Mia asked.
“They're good, doing well in school. I'm hiring Jake to be a lifeguard at the pool this summer. Complete nepotism, of course,” she dismissed the charge with a cheerful wink. “He did the county pool last year, so he's ready. Javier is so excited for him. We met when he was a lifeguard, you know, so I think he thinks Jake will find the love of his life the same way.” She laughed . “I tell him lightning doesn't strike twice.”
“They grow up so fast, don't they?”
“Unbelievably. How are yours?” Maria asked.
“They're good. They asked me when you're accepting that promotion and coming to work in Atlanta.” They both laughed at the thought.
“Yeah, right. Leave paradise? I don't think so . ” Maria was happy where she was, with her family and her hotel.
They looked around the room, commenting on the diners as they had years ago together.
Maria nodded discreetly at a polished blonde who was being seated a few tables down. A younger man accompanied her, paying quite a lot of attention to his glamorous companion. He fussed over her, pulling out her chair and arranging her gauzy wrap with care around her shoulders. “She's Hannah Winley, Arthur Winley's wife. Here for a long weekend with that extremely handsome young man while her husband's away on a business trip.”
“The billionaire?” Mia noticed the grotesquely big diamond weighing down her slim ring finger. “I think her hair must take at least an hour to do.”
“Oh yes . S he never comes to breakfast. Just has it in her cottage.”
Hannah Winley was very pretty in a plastic sort of way, with absolute perfection of makeup. Her low-cut sequined dress was skin-tight to a perfectly sculpted figure, and her chest sparkled with diamonds. She glittered in the candlelight.
“Sequins are a little much for this hotel in spring, but she almost pulls them off,” Mia commented. “I see Dr. Harris is still doing that nose.”
Maria snorted . “You'd think women would want something no one else had. The little slope just gives it away.” Her rounded face had laughter crinkles around her eyes. She looked warm and happy.
“We have two wedding parties staying now. One is going all out in extravagance and hardly any bother. Just want things done right. Everyone's happy. That's the group in the side room.” She nodded her head toward it . “The other, wow, just wow. Nickel and diming everything, and more trouble than three other weddings put together. If I didn't have Addie handling them, I know I'd blow my top.” She smiled . “ Wedding coordinator is a job I was beyond glad to grow out of.”
“I know, but weddings fill the hotel. And when everyone is happy, it's beautiful.”
“Oh, I know,” Maria agreed. “It's just sad when they aren't getting along. We do our best, but sometimes nothing's going to work.” Her eyes drifted around the room. “I've had at least an hour of meetings with her today,” Maria nodded discreetly to a middle-aged woman eating alone, dressed inappropriately in a long tie-dye skirt with armloads of beaded bracelets.
“Why ever? Who is she?”
“Sissy Collinsworth. She runs fundraising for the Green Environmental Charity. They're planning their annual fundraiser in a few months, and she's here to work out every detail.” Maria emphasized, “Every single, solitary detail. I'm not totally convinced that she isn't staying as long as she can to vacation , while the charity foots the bill.”
“Is she nickel and diming us, too?”
“No, nothing but the best for her charity. But every single detail is discussed minutely, ad nauseam. She planned everything perfectly with Trey and still took hours discussing it with me. She got in a few digs about not dealing with less than managers at the other venues she's used, which I highly doubt. I think Trey must have offended her in some way, to tell the truth. He can be a bit short-tempered. He needs to learn that keeping the customers happy IS the job . ” Maria lifted her shoulders, then let them fall . “Oh well . It ’s a big event for the hotel, even with the charity discount.”
“That writer, Harold Stone, looked like he was causing a bit of trouble?”
“Oh, he is, and then some,” Maria said with feeling. “He's always blowing up at the hospitality team. It was his laptop that was mislaid earlier, and did he yell about it. After all that fuss, Trey found it in the lobby . R ight where Mr. Stone left it.”
She shook her head . “You would not believe the state his room gets into. I swear it makes the maids cry. His credit card's good for it, but it's a real shame.” She leaned toward Mia confidingly . “I don't think his books would get written at all except for his assistant, Sylvie. They meet every afternoon in the main lounge and discuss his book. I wish they wouldn't meet there, but I think he pulls it together a bit more in public. I doubt she wants to be trapped in a room alone with him either. I make sure they're off to the side where the world isn't listening in . ” S he shook her head despairingly. “Of course, a lot of guests are thrilled to see a famous writer at work. They get him to autograph books and chat. The attention tend s to improve his mood.” She pursed her lips in disgust.
“They're coming in now.”
Mia and Maria watched the writer navigate, somewhat unsteadily, to a table with his assistant wispily trailing him. She sat with her back to the room , shoulders hunched as if fearing a blow. He blearily survey ed it as his rightful domain . Sylvie dithered over the menu, playing with her knife. Harold bayed, “Steak, rare!” so loudly that the entire room could hear.
Mia commented, “It's amazing how his books always hit the New York Times bestseller list. I think it's three in a row now. Really good books too.”
“I know . I mpressive.”
Their dinner arrived. Mia tasted the shrimp in its aromatic sauce, rolling it around her taste buds. Dinner needed to be a memorable experience at the hotel . T his was certainly delicious. “I love Chef's Grand Island Shrimp. It has a bit more depth than the typical étouffée.”
“I know, he's very good.”
“Chef François has been here about five years now? Is he still happy?”
“Yes, five years is when they really get creative and produce their best work, or they get bored and leave. François seems to be doing well here, though . ” Maria savored a bite of her dish of pasta with an int riguing sauce and tiny spring peas. “And his work is amazing.”
Trey hurried over to their table, still dressed in his casual khakis, and greeted them. “Maria, I just want to tell you I've rebooted all the security computers . E verything is working perfectly now.” He looked to Mia for approval.
“That's fine, Trey, I appreciate you letting me know.” Maria nodded in dismissal.
A high-pitched, penetrating call of laughter rang out across the room . E veryone turned to the source of the exuberant noise. Trey stiffened , frowning . He reluctantly left them and the dining room, hesitating as if hoping to be called back to join his bosses for dinner .
The woman with long black hair she'd seen in the lobby was the source of laughter. The waitress must have said something funny because she still chortled, but much quieter than the first disruptive burst of laughter. She wore a very expensive, off-the-runway dress, with interesting inserts of unexpected reds into the hot pink sheath that highlighted her slim silhouette. “Who is she?” Mia motioned toward the stylish woman.
“Allison Jayton. She's been here a few days. Seems nice. Lots of money and a new outfit for every possible occasion. She and her partner owned a big online real estate firm, but her partner died —really sad . She sold the company for millions. She's spending as much as she can to make up for lost time. And grief too, I think.”
“She has a Dr. Harris nose, too.”
“I know, everyone who's anyone flocks to the same doctor. It's a little ridiculous when you can spot four in a room. Who'd want a trendy nose? Allison spends a fortune in the spa, too. Won't let one strand of gray show.” Maria shook her rich brown hair. “Not that I will either.”
“And I'm still a natural blonde,” Mia agreed, smiling. Her hair was classically styled in a relaxed Grace Kelly bob. Not a gray hair would dare show itself in the soft ash blonde locks.
A pple pie and ice cream capped the meal . The delicate pies were a miniature version of the classic comfort food, brought to a superb level with flaky pastry and intriguing spices. They finished with satisfied sighs.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”
Mia thought for a minute. “I'm definitely making time for a long walk on the beach. That's one thing London was missing. Beautiful parks, but no beaches. I think I'll just wander around and absorb the hotel.”
“Perfect,” Maria said. “I'd love to know what you think of the tennis court renovation, if you head that way. And , of course, I put you in Rose Cottage. It was just redone.”
“I'd be glad to look them over . ” Mia made a quick note. “Anywhere else?”
“I've been wondering about an area for older kids when it's hot or raining. They get a bit cooped up on rainy summer afternoons . I t would be good to have somewhere to stash them that's not in the main guest areas.”
“Not too far out of the way, either . ” Mia smiled, thinking of the trouble her stepsons had managed to get in to . Nothing too serious, however … “That's a good idea. I'll sleep on it.” She rose, placing her linen napkin precisely beside her plate.
Maria stood with her. “Let me know if you need anything.” They hugged, “It's great to see you.”
They left the grand dining room, and Mia walked through the soft S outhern night to her cottage. It was just a few steps away down a well-lit sidewalk. It was pleasant walking under the huge live oak trees . T he long Spanish moss shimmer ed in the moonlight. A bright green Luna moth landed on the moss, swaying in the cool, salty breeze. An owl hooted far too close . S he jumped, laughing at herself.
She opened the cottage door. It had been a long day, and she was ready for bed. She changed out of her dress into a long, soft pink silk nightgown, taking off her jewelry and makeup and gently patting her face with her expensive and lusciously scented serum. Her silk pillow was already placed on the turned-down sheets. She lay her head down and fell fast asleep to the distant sound of ocean waves.
Mia began the next day with a brisk walk down the beach. Walking was her primary exercise, and she loved exploring new places. She had walked long hours on this familiar beach, but beaches were in a state of constant change, renewing themselves with every passing storm. Rolling dunes backed the smooth sand beach, making it a wonderful place for long walks. She breathed in the iodine tang of the brisk breeze flowing across the waves. The waves crashed softly on the shore, hissing against the dark sand as they slid back to sea.
Not many people had emerged yet , this early in the morning. She nodded to a few of the wedding guests strolling along the shore before the afternoon weddings . She passed Sissy Collinsworth wa ding in the surf, a batik-printed skirt dragging in the water behind her. Allison Jayton ran by in bright running gear, her long black ponytail streaming behind her like a banner.
Sam Forrest slowed from his loping jog to a walk as he passed her. “Mia, good to see you.” Mia was one of the few people he felt comfortable around . They'd worked together on a few lawsuits over the years, and they'd gotten to know each other well.
“And you too, Sam. I had a nice chat with Rebecca yesterday.”
“Thank you for the champagne. It was very thoughtful of you and set a perfect mood. We had a wonderful dinner too.” He smiled fondly.
“I'm glad . ” Her bright eyes twinkled at him. “You two need a break.”
“Yes, work has been very long hours since I made partner, and Rebecca's been bearing the brunt of childcare. I know s he's exhausted.”
“You both need to have some fun. That's the point of a vacation,” she urged. “Take her out on a boat today.”
“You know, I think I'll do that. Rent a boat and just play . ” H e grinned like a boy, relaxed and happy, with a fun new plan. “Nothing like messing about in boats, is there?”
“Have fun,” she called as he ran in long strides back toward the main hotel, intent on his boat outing.
Their marriage would be all right, she thought warmly, enjoying the feel of sand sliding beneath her sandals. She walked for a few more minutes, then stopped and looked out to sea. The sky stretched bright and blue over the endless ocean. She inhaled deeply . D olphins played in the channel waves , jumping high in twisting arcs, their sharp, high cries of joy carrying over the water . She sighed in happy appreciation.
Sam arranged a sailboat rental with the concierge, then went to tell Rebecca. He opened the bedroom door with a happy call, “Time to rise and shine, beautiful! We're going sailing!”
His wife opened her eyes and rubbed them, like a sleepy child waking . T hen she stretched , long, tanned legs contrasting against the crisp white sheets. “Sailing?”
“Sailing,” he said firmly. “It's time to really have a vacation.”
“Oh, Sam . ” S he looked at him with warm brown eyes, and his heart melted.
Mia got back to her room with renewed spirit, changed into pink tennis shoes, and patted her hair into sleek waves. She swiped on pink lipstick to match her flowing silk blouse and felt ready for the day.
Palmetto palm fronds beat a rhythm as h er feet padded cheerfully on the sidewalk as she headed to the Grand Palmettos Restaurant for breakfast. The salty air felt crisp and fresh.
Th is morning in the restaurant, the mood was completely different. T all windows , their blue curtains pulled back, flooded the room with bright light , streaming across the white tablecloths in a glorious morning awakening . Silver flatware still gleamed , but the candles were gone . She was ushered smoothly to the same table she'd sat at last night . S he surveyed the room.
A few of her fellow beachgoers relaxed in front of well-deserved breakfasts. She didn't see Sam and Rebecca. She hoped they'd had breakfast in the ir room after his jog. The birdwatching couple perched at a table next to the window, bird books and a map laid out between them, planning their attack. Hannah Winley wouldn't emerge for breakfast, from what Maria had said, but the handsome young man accompanying her was there, still wearing sweaty running clothes. She couldn't believe he hadn't bothered with a shower before appearing in the restaurant .
She summoned the headwaiter with a lift of her hand, motioning to the young man. “Did you suggest breakfast in his room?”
“I suggested the terrace as well , several times . ” T he well-groomed young woman sighed. “I didn't like to make a scene since he's here with Mrs. Winley. I finally just seated him as out of the way as possible.” He was next to the hospitality team door.
“You did your best,” Mia commiserated. “There's not much you can do when guests choose not to behave appropriately.” She s canned the wonderful menu options. “I don't think I'll experiment today. Just a plain omelette and coffee, please.” She felt like comfort food, and it was always good to check the basics were up to standard.
“Right away, Ms. Mia . ” T he headwaiter gave orders to a waitress who bustled off.
The day was going to be a lovely one, Mia thought. She'd take one of the hotel bikes on a trip around the island. The wide , flat paths were perfect for leisurely bike rides, and it would be a fun way to check out the outlying areas.
Her waitress filled her cup with coffee. She added just a touch of sugar and milk, barely lightening the steaming brew. “Delicious . ” Mia nodded approval, and the waitress bustled away to fill another cup.
The waitress was new, like a lot of the less senior resort team. People would work at a hotel for a while, then move on to another hotel or job. It was a business with a lot of transient workers, but senior team members did tend to stay. The only new senior employee here was Trey Sulley, the assistant manager. She might see if he was available for lunch, since she liked to get to know all the resort team.
The omelette arrived, delivered with an uncertain flourish by the waitress, who seemed to know how it would be judged. Mia approved of the simple garnish of a bit of fine herbs, but the omelette itself looked dry and rather disgusting. She took a bite to make sure. Definitely not what should be served at a Spinel Hotel.
She took the plate and walked her pink sneakers back to the kitchen, bumping through the hospitality team door. She called out in a clear voice, designed to cut through the kitchen noise, “Who cooked this?”
There was a shuffle for who was in trouble, and a young man in a tall chef ’s hat came shyly forward . “I did, Mrs. Spinel. Francisco González.”
“Mr. González, did you go to culinary school?”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Spinel. I went to Le Cordon Bleu. I did the program in Mexico City,” he said with nervous pride.
She pointed to the omelette . “And they didn't teach you to make an omelette?”
“To tell you the truth, ma'am, this is the first day I've done breakfast. I usually work at night under Chef François. I did the extra Pâtisserie course, so Mr. Sulley put me on for breakfast when the breakfast chef called in sick.” He pointed to a mouthwatering tray of buttery croissants waiting on the counter.
“I see,” Mia was disappointed, but not surprised. There were always gaps in even the most trained chef's education. “It's surprising how often they teach the showstoppers , but not the basics.” She looked around . “Where's an omelette pan?”
The resort team crowded around, watching the show. The young chef looked very awkward and handed her a small carbon steel frying pan. “Here, ma'am.” His hands were tucked in his apron.
“So, this is how you make an omelette.” Mia put the pan on the hot flame. “Two eggs, please.”
He handed them to her nervously, eggs juggling in his shaking hands.
She broke them into a bowl, added salt, and whisked briskly. “You don't want a froth, just light and well mixed.” She dropped a large pat of butter in the hot pan and moved it around. “Brown the butter lightly, then add the eggs.” She did so, and the eggs started cooking as they hit the hot pan. “Now, shake like crazy.” She took the pan off the stove and moved it around at a furious rate. “That creates layers in the omelette. You don't want a fluffy, dry omelette. You want a delicately layered one. When it's cooked barely enough, flip it . ” S he tossed it up in the air and caught the eggs neatly. “Cook it just a tiny bit more, then roll it gently onto a plate, folding it into thirds as you roll.” She suited her actions to her words. “Sprinkle the herbs, and you're done.” Mia displayed her perfect omelette to the restaurant team. “Try it.” They clustered around, tasting spoons ready.
“That's perfect,” said the young chef. “Just a few changes make all the difference, doesn't it?”
“With eggs, little things make all the difference,” Mia agreed. “So now you make me one.”
He followed the steps exactly, and she had her perfect omelette. “I'll just eat while I'm here. Would you mind getting me another coffee?” she asked a waitress.
“No problem, Mrs. Spinel,” her waitress brought her another perfect cup. “Where did you study for culinary?” she asked curiously.
“All over,” Mia told her. “I never had time to do a full program anywhere, but I've taken classes almost every place I've lived. I actually took the Mexican Cuisine Diploma at the Cordon Bleu Institute in Mexico City while we were there for a few months opening a new hotel.” She smiled as she remembered a very busy few weeks in the kitchens.
“I'm also lucky enough to get to watch all the hotel chefs at work behind the scenes. There's always so much to learn in a kitchen.” She smiled at the waitress. “Whenever I'm home, which isn't often anymore, I love to cook the new dishes I've found.”
“Sounds like fun.” The waitress hurried back to the dining room with the fresh coffee.
Mia enjoyed her omelette and lingered over her coffee, watching the kitchen. The young chef, Francisco, had the kitchen under control and wasn't as nervous now. The omelette seemed to be a small stumbling point that a short lesson had fixed.
He offered her a still-warm croissant diffidently. As the delicate flakiness melted on her tongue, she knew why he had chosen pastry as a specialty.
“That is absolutely sublime , Francisco. I haven't had a croissant that delicious outside of Paris.”
H is cheeks turned red, and he mumbled something, going back to his work. The kitchen was running beautifully. As she watched, she saw another perfect omelette go out the door, this time by a junior chef who grinned when he saw her watching. Francisco was stepping up to the challenge now and learning from a small mistake. Good, she thought.
“Thank you so much for breakfast ,” she said to all, like a guest leaving a party.
“Bye, Mrs. Spinel, see you at lunch,” they chorused, keeping to their work.
Leaving through the service door, she walked over to the side building where the bikes were stored. She checked one out from a cheerful girl in a neat blue hospitality uniform and long ponytail.
As she pedaled down the bike lane on the main drive, she looked around, planning her route. The bike was a fifties -style baby blue cruiser and fit well with the old-fashioned atmosphere on the island. She passed the golf course on the right and waved to Billy in his limo, out to gather another group of guests.
Later, she would play a round of golf to check over the course, but it wasn't her favorite activity. Leo had always been the one to check those out . N ow his sons made sure their golf courses were world-class. They loved golf. Mia preferred the spa.
Live oaks met over the road, blocking out most of the sunlight with their trailing Spanish moss. A few rays of light streamed through the moss, creating dancing spotlights through the shadows on the oyster shell road. She heard birds singing in the branches , getting ready for spring. It felt cool under the shady trees, with the air smelling of lush green growing things. She pedaled along briskly, enjoying the easy movement on the flat road.
She saw the first group of resort team cottages on her left and turned into the little loop. They were pleasant cottages, in the same style as the rest of the hotel cottages, but a little bigger since people lived there full-time. The scent of jasmine hung in the heavy, still air of the cul-de-sac.
Hospitality team in management positions lived in these if they chose to. Since sometimes they had to be on duty at odd hours, it made their lives easier.
Maria Sotos, as general manager for the hotel, had her house a little separated from the others off the next turn. At the far end of the island were some tiny apartments that the junior hospitality team generally queu ed up for. An apartment within walking distance from the beach was a nice perk, even if it came with occasional late nights. Any hospitality members not living on the island would have a twenty-minute commute each way to the nearest town.
The cottages on this loop would be the homes of the two head chefs and the assistant managers, all of whom worked late. Addie, the wedding planner, who needed to be there at unexpected hours to reassure brides, had the smallest cottage of all, with bright red geraniums in pots next to the front door. Addie herself was heading out the door as Mia pedaled around the loop. She waved, “Hi, Ms. Mia! Good to see you! I'm off to finish the weekend's first wedding.”
Mia waved, “Good luck!”
“Fingers crossed as always!” She walked briskly down a direct path to the main hotel, her high heels barely slowing her at all.
The houses on this loop seemed to be in good repair. The hotel landscapers took care of the yard maintenance, though some, like Addie, added their own personal touches. She nodded to herself in approval. It was important to have every bit of the grounds perfect at all times. You never knew where guests would turn up. The little bike paths crisscrossing the island were meant to be used, after all. These cottages were part of the resort landscaping.
Trey Sulley wandered out of his little house, Allison Jayton at his side. She still wore her bright running clothes. They walked with their shoulders brushing, talking softly. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, laughing, then released his hand from her waist. She brushed him off with a smile , turning to wave as she followed the path Addie had taken.
Hmm, Mia thought. She wasn't at all surprised the assistant manager would have an affair with a guest. She just hoped he wouldn't do anything to cause Allison to take offense with the hotel if it ended badly.
Trey noticed Mia biking around the circle and held up a hand. “Mrs. Spinel, good to see you! How are you?” He came forward to greet her as if she'd biked directly to his house to visit him .
She stopped politely . “Hello, Trey. I'm well, and you?”
“Just perfect, Mrs. Spinel.” He came and held her bike's handlebars, smoothly preventing her from moving unless she rudely jerked it away.
Mia prepared herself to listen to whatever he had on his chest. “I'm so glad you came to see me, Mrs. Spinel. I knew we would get along . ” His lips curved disarmingly at her , every tooth showing .
“I was just out biking, Trey.”
“Oh, of course, Mia,” he agreed, clearly thinking it was his charming self she'd come to see. He continued to hold her bike hostage. “Such a pretty name, Mia. I could show you around the island, if you'd like. I've worked at hotels all over the world. I have a lot of ideas for fixing this place up, trust me. I know a few places not too far away where we could have a quiet,” he lowered his voice seductively, “conversation.”
Mia stiffened. She disliked anyone calling her by her first name until she asked them to. She preferred to maintain that little bit of distance until she knew people well. And she was not going off anywhere alone with this particular employee. “I'm making a loop around the island this morning , so I’ d better get moving.” She looked determinedly at the exit to the cottage loop.
“You stay very active for a woman your age, Mia. Takes a lot to keep that figure going . ” H e boldly looked her up and down.
Okay, that was enough. She rudely jerked the bike away and started pedaling in one smooth motion.
He didn't say anything, just chuckled knowingly as she pedaled away. “Bye, Mia. I'll see you later.”
What a creep, Mia thought. She couldn't believe someone as pretty as Allison would slip off to meet him. Of course, redoing your nose implied a certain lack of confidence.
She was going to have a serious talk with Maria about her creepy assistant manager choice next time she saw her. She pedaled through the dappled shadows of the main road, relaxing into the steady rhythm of the bike.
Allison rushed down the oyster shell path, not sure exactly why she was running away . The tiny shell fragments crunched and rolled under her feet, shifting with each step.
She'd just had a nice breakfast with Trey. He wasn't a great cook, but he'd cooked for her, and that was nice. And he was handsome, in a male model sort of way, with dark hair and blue eyes. A handsome man cooking you breakfast wasn't a bad way to start the day.
They'd met this morning when she'd paused to stretch at the furthest point of her run. Her legs and back didn't hurt as much when she paused for a stretch midway, even on a short run. Beach runs were definitely using muscles her treadmill had not.
Trey asked her to breakfast . And, a fter all, she was here to start finding a new life and friends for herself. So she'd said yes.
It had been pretty obvious he'd planned to cook breakfast, then she'd smoothly tumble into bed with him. He'd held her hand and looked at her with those devastating blue eyes and said he understood.
And she'd run away. Why?
Allison slowed, then stopped , look ing up into the palmetto trees surrounding her. Bugs made noises in the leaf litter, scritching and scratching , the smell of turned earth filling her nose. The palmetto fronds clacked hollowly, beating like drums as the warm wind blew. A bird screamed harshly directly overhead. She jumped, feeling her heart beat hard in her chest, as a chill ran down her spine . She slowly turned around, looking up into the live oaks and gray Spanish moss meeting high over her head, trying to spot the screeching bird. The gray-green world swirled around her, making her dizzy.
After her bike ride, Mia lunched on the terrace. It was a perfect day with fluffy white clouds making their stately procession against the deep blue sky. A soft breeze blew in from the waves, carrying the smell of salt and hot sand. Palm fronds gently rattled in the trees. From the terrace, she could see a few shrimp boats out in the distant water, surrounded by gulls , their high-pitched calls screeching over the water .
As she sat enjoying her salad and the ocean view, Sissy Collinsworth approached her table , still wearing the same batik skirt she'd dragged through the sand and surf that morning. The hem was wrinkled and stiff with salt. She put her hand on a chair , sitting down a t the same time as she asked, “Mind if I join you?”
Mia nodded noncommittally. She wasn't about to cause a scene in her own hotel, and she was almost finished with her salad.
“I'm Sissy Collinsworth,” the woman stated. “From the Green Environmental Charity.” She shoved her dirty hand above Mia's salad.
Mia took her hand gingerly, “I'm Mia Spinel.” She wiped her hand discreetly on the napkin in her lap.
“Yeah, you're one of the hotel owners, aren't you?” Sissy informed her. “I've been talking with your manager about my fundraiser in three months.”
“That's nice,” Mia said blandly. She took a few more bites of her salad, preparing for a quick getaway.
Sissy's face shone with ardent enthusiasm. “Yeah, it's going to be a huge event. People flying in from all over the world to raise money for environmental causes.”
Mia thought she saw the flaw in that, but declined to say so. Her business was travel, after all.
Sissy went on, bracelets jangling, “I just feel that for so worthy a cause — I mean, you don't want the icebergs melting and flooding this place in a decade — you might give us more of a break on the cost.” She looked expectantly at Mia, sure of her emotional appeal.
Mia resented Sissy interrupting her peaceful lunch in order to circumvent her managers. She went on the attack in the best sweet Southern lady tradition. “Oh, my dear, are you not getting our standard charity discount? I can't believe they didn't offer that to you.” She shook her head in feigned disappointment.
Sissy looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight on the chair. “Well, yes, we're getting that but...”
“Oh, that's good,” Mia said brightly, “but I can't imagine giving your group more of a discount than Magnolia Children’s Trust. I know we hold one of their major fundraisers here every year, and we always give them our charity discount. To take away from a children's charity or other worthy causes wouldn't possibly be fair, would it?” She looked at Sissy with innocent blue eyes. Mia knew perfectly well they offered the same hefty discount to all charities. It generally prevented this sort of problem.
Sissy went on the offensive . “Icebergs melting will cause so much more suffering...”
“Than children starving now?” Mia said with a sniff. “I hardly think so.” She stood up, placing her napkin on the table emphatically. “I can't possibly offer you a better discount than any of the other charities that hold annual fundraisers here. It just wouldn't be right.” In a tone as sweet as honey, she added, “If you have any further questions, please talk to Trey Sulley, the assistant manager you've been working with. I'm sure he can answer any questions you have.”
Sissy Collinsworth stood up and said in harsh judgment, “I can't believe you're refusing to give back to your community, to the environment.”
Mia raised a delicate eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You won't give us even another percent off cost? It's for Mother Earth . ” S he spread her arms wide, encompassing the landscape , her floating sleeve knocking over a water glass. “ S orry.” A waitress hurried to clean up the broken glass.
Mia had had enough. “If you would prefer to go with a more environmentally friendly hotel, please do so. If you can find one,” she added smoothly, knowing that would be extremely difficult in this area.
“Oh, well,” Sissy backpedaled. “You don't even have solar panels,” she accused.
Mia was abruptly sick of this woman. She felt no need to explain to Sissy that solar panels would have caused tremendous ecological damage to the island with relatively little benefit. She should know. The same eminent environmental architects had insisted on installing half a million dollars’ worth of them in their Arizona resort. She still cringed at that retrofit price tag.
She said firmly, “No, we don't.” Her lips curved in sweet insincerity . She said, “I do hope you enjoy your stay ,” as she walked quickly away , before Sissy could make more arrogant demands.
There was definitely a downside to people knowing you were one of the hotel owners. The “m y very special event ” plea happened fairly often, but she had heard everything from “my pillow is too soft" to “I don't like the room color.” She tried to politely listen. It was her family's hotel, after all, and she was here to improve it, if needed. If the complaints were valid, she wanted to know, but the number of people wanting special treatment for no valid reason was always annoying.
Mia decided her next stop would be the newly renovated tennis courts. That should be far enough from the terrace to avoid Sissy. She liked watching tennis a lot more than watching golf. It was fun when the players were skilled, lunging for impossible shots and sending them shooting across the court. It was almost as entertaining when they weren't so skilled and swung their racquets ineptly at the open air. She smiled, thinking of her children's first tennis lessons where they whacked the ball at nothing.
She might play a game or two herself this trip, if she could find a partner. The soft grass of the courts here was a pleasure to play on.
She wandered through the locker rooms, placed thoughtfully so players could leave racquets and anything they might need at the courts and not have to carry them back and forth from the hotel.
The tennis courts backed up to the golf course, so the pro shops and locker rooms flowed into each other, allowing employees to man both. She fussed with a few displays . T he slightly more experienced clerk motioned to his junior to let her rearrange everything . When she had the store displays looking like she wanted, she nodded to the two gawking boys hiding behind the counter. “Take care, boys.”
“Yes, Ms. Mia,” they chorused, grinning with relief that she was leaving .
The newly renovated courts were gorgeous, lushly green. The precisely mown grass (eight millimeters in height) was perfectly maintained and constantly refreshed, with bright white titanium dioxide lines renewed at least daily. The fresh-cut grass smelled sweet in the warm sun, and a light sea breeze kept the air pleasantly cool.
Four members of a wedding party played doubles on the green courts, with one player on each side playing well and the other missing even the easiest of shots. The steady pop of the ball mixed with bursts of laughter. The carefree party didn't seem to mind either way.
Hannah Winley and her handsome companion played a different sort of game. Hannah's tennis dress was fussily adorable, white with a short skirt and pink ruffled shorts showing every time she moved. Her game was not up to her youthful fashion choice. She lunged frantically, swinging at air, as the young man lobbed easy shots to her.
Mia sat in the low row of stadium seats for a minute, watching. The warm sun felt good on her shoulders. She wouldn't be surprised if the young man were a tennis pro. His game was excellent. He moved with the lithe speed of a cat, hitting shots that crept over the net or balls aimed at the fence. Throughout, he kept a cheerful, encouraging grin plastered across his face.
Allison Jayton sat down near her, watching the players. They both clapped at a particularly athletic move by the young man, and she nodded to Mia. “You're Mia Spinel, one of the hotel owners, aren't you?”
“I am. Mia Spinel.”
Allison held out her hand. “I'm Allison Jayton.”
“Nice to meet you, Allison,” Mia said . “ I hope you’re enjoying your stay?”
“Oh yes, it's a lovely hotel,” she said enthusiastically. “I'm having a wonderful time.” Her gorgeous black hair swung in a sleek wave around her face.
With the woman closer and in bright sunlight, Mia could definitely see faint traces of plastic surgery in her lightly tanned skin. She'd had not just her nose done, but extensive work around her eyes and mouth. Her eye color had been changed with contacts to a very striking blue. Odd, she seemed too young and pretty for such drastic changes. Mia much preferred changing her face with a nice spa day and relaxation.
With a start, she realized the other woman had been talking to her. She caught up the thread of conversation . “... always dreamed of coming here. It's so beautiful on the coast with all these little barrier islands. I'm even thinking of moving near here, maybe Charleston or Savannah.”
“It's a lovely area,” Mia agreed. “It gets very hot during the summer, but during the winter, you can continue with life instead of hiding inside.” She herself liked skiing and hot chocolate too, but it was all good. “Where are you from?”
“Oh, a little town in the Midwest you've never heard of. I live in San Francisco currently, but now that I've sold my company, I'd like to relocate. San Francisco's not what it used to be.”
“Take time to find somewhere you really love,” Mia encouraged. “Spend some time traveling and seeing the world.”
“Yeah, I don't really have anywhere definite in mind, but this place is so beautiful, I'm seriously thinking of it. I'm in no hurry to settle down right now.” She sighed heavily . “I worked all the time the last few years, so all my friends were business friends. Then my partner and I were in this awful car wreck . ” S he looked off into the distance, seeing the past instead of the live oaks. Her fingertip slowly traced her jaw. “I was driving. It was raining really hard. Just a stupid accident, but she died. The company didn't seem worth doing any more without her.”
“I'm so sorry,” Mia said with great sympathy. “After a tragedy, sometimes it's better to make a change.” No wonder Allison had had all the plastic surgery after a bad car wreck. That was what plastic surgery was for, to help people rebuild their bodies and lives. “You need to find who you want to be next.”
“Yeah . ” Allison looked sorrowfully across the green tennis court. “Just time to make a change.” Her bottom lip quivered . “I'd always dreamed of traveling around, seeing the world. So here I am. Going to all the places I read about.” She gave a brave little smile .
“Good for you, Allison.”
They were quiet for a minute, then Mia commented after a particularly amazing shot, “That young man there is very good at tennis, isn't he?”
Allison laughed her high, distinctive bray . “I think he's her tennis pro. She's got to keep up her practice, you know.”
“How nice,” Mia said with a smile. “I guess her game is coming along.”
“It should be with all that practice,” she commented. “I think he's usually there all night.” She winked sardonically at Mia and stretched. “I think I'll have a bike ride, soak in the atmosphere.”
“It's a perfect place for biking. I did this morning. ”
“Nice and flat,” Allison enthused. “Quite a change from California hills. I'm looking for more relaxed activities after my accident. I used to mountain bike, rock climb, and do triathlons.” She rubbed her legs reflectively . “I think some nice flat biking sounds perfect.”
“Absolutely. Have fun,” Mia said. She watched Allison head toward the bike stand. Trey wouldn't be her choice, but she supposed he was just a vacation fling. Poor girl, having her friend die in a car wreck. She was glad Allison was restarting life with a long vacation.
Mia watched the players, the handsome young man serving directly to Hannah Winley. Despite her phenomenal figure, she wasn't in very good shape. She huffed and puffed, and her elaborate makeup ran with sweat. He lobbed balls to her, and it was all she could do to return them.
Finally, Hannah held up her racquet . “That's enough, Phillip. I'm beat.”
The tennis pro laughed . “You're doing great, Hannah,” he encouraged. “Try a few more shots.”
She whined, “I am so ready for a shower.” She grabbed her matching pink bag. It had ruffles. “I'm headed back.”
“Sure thing, beautiful,” he said agreeably. He grabbed the bucket of balls, and the basket fell over. The balls rolled across the court. “Well, damn.” He stooped and grabbed. “I'll just pick these up.”
“Just leave them, I want my shower,” she said, annoyed. “The hospitality team will take care of it.”
He continued picking up the balls . “It’ll just take a minute.”
She watched him impatiently, tapping her foot, then kicked a ball toward him. “Here's one.”
Phillip stepped on the unexpected rolling ball, almost lost his balance, then skated on another ball with the other foot. He fell with a thud and sat up, yelling. “My ankle!”
Hannah said impatiently, “I'm sure you just twisted it. Try walking it out.”
He lifted his foot. The ankle was visibly sw ollen . “I think it's broken.”
“There's no way,” Hannah told him. “You just turned it a little.”
Mia grabbed her phone and called the front desk, requesting help.
She ran down the stairs to the grassy court, reassuring the young man. “I called for an ambulance and ice. They'll be here soon.”
“Thank God,” he said, grimacing in pain.
Hannah looked pouty. “I can't believe you did that,” she laughed cruelly. “You almost did a flip.”
The handsome young man said nothing, his pale face twisted . He breathed hard through compressed lips.
Mia checked out the ankle, loosened his laces, and gently pulled his shoe off as he hissed in pain. He turned green as she pulled it off, and his eyes rolled up a little.
“We'll have the ice soon, but best to get your shoe off before we have to cut it off , ” Mia said.
“Definitely broken,” he muttered.
Misty, the spa receptionist, came running with ice and a first aid kit, her smooth , dark ponytail bouncing. “I'm the first aid person on duty.”
Mia always had several of the resort team at each hotel trained in emergency aid. When so many out-of-shape hotel guests decided to do their yearly exercise all at once, it saved lives.
Misty caught sight of the ballooned ankle . H er round cheeks sagged in sympathy . “Oh, wow, that looks awful.”
Her sleek ponytail swung as she turned to Mia . “The ambulance will be about thirty minutes, Ms. Mia. I'll just keep it elevated and iced until then.”
She turned efficiently to Phillip . “Do you want Tylenol now or hold out for the good stuff with the EMTs?”
“I think Tylenol now,” Phillip grunted through clenched teeth. “It's pretty bad.”
Misty grabbed the medicine and elevated his foot. He winced as she gently placed an ice pack on the ankle already swollen to twice its normal size.
“Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry,” Hannah told him, finally seeming to realize he was actually hurt. She still seemed impatient with the fuss he was creating.
“Don't worry . T he hospital here is very good,” Mia reassured him.
The ambulance arrived shortly, and the EMTs efficiently loaded Phillip in to the ambulance . Hannah remain ed behind. He didn't seem to care, relaxing into their professional care with relief. Before the ambulance was out of sight, Hannah had headed back to the hotel.
Misty commented, “Wow, she's cold.” She waved the ice pack and ran . “Everyone's coming to the spa today. Gotta go!”
The boys from the pro shop had gathered up most of the scattered balls. She grabbed one more and threw it in the bucket. “No more accidents today.”
“ No, ma’am ,” they both agreed fervently.
Rebecca and Sam , hands entwined and laughing , came up from the dock . Mia was going to leave them to their fun, but they called in unison, “Hi, Mia!”
“Did you enjoy the boat?”
They grinned. Rebecca's face was alive with happiness. “What a great day! We took out one of the little sailboats and just played around.”
“Just the right amount of wind,” Sam enthused.
“That's right, you used to sail when you were a kid,” Mia remembered. “Did it bring back memories?”
“Absolutely, but it made better ones . ” H e smiled at Rebecca, his eyes sparkling , and she blushed.
“I'm so glad you're having a good vacation.”
“A great vacation,” Sam said, picking Rebecca up by the waist and swinging her around. She laughed in delight as he set her down.
“Bye, Mia . ” Rebecca called as they ran off hand in hand.
Mia ’s mouth curved . That couple had just needed a break. She loved the freedom that hotels gave people to relax from the worries of regular life. Everyday worries melted away for a few days . When you were relaxed, the concerns became easier to deal with . She walked slowly on, letting the young couple get far ahead of her. Guests passed her by, going back to their rooms before dinner.
Harold Stone’s well-padded frame blocked most of the path. His legs moved slowly, as if treading through water. As she passed him , he called out peremptorily, “Hey, you!”
Mia slowed, but didn't stop. She generally did not answer to “you.”
He yelled again, “You! Spinel. You own this shit hole, don't you?”
She stopped abruptly and turned, “Excuse me?”
“You own this place, right?” He backed down slightly at her icy glare.
“I do,” she coolly stated.
This early in the evening, he was already too drunk to communicate clearly. “Well, I have a complaint to make!” He put his Scotch-infused face way too close to hers, using his height and girth to intimidate her.
“Indeed.” Mia stood her ground against his fetid breath.
“About your manager,” he heeled to one side of the path, then recovered balance.
“Yes?”
“H e stole from me.”
“My hotel manager is a woman,” Mia told him.
“No, that skinny runt with the slick hair. The thief. He stole my laptop,” he accused blearily.
“Ah, your laptop . ” Mia tried to remember. “It was found in the lobby by Mr. Sulley ?”
“He put it there,” Harold Stone charged.
Mia had a policy to never argue with drunks. “I'll have to look into that,” she pacified him.
He swayed up close again , panting on her with his heavy , whiskey-laden breath. “I'll sue.”
“I'm sure there's been some mistake.”
He leaned in, blustering . “You can't steal from me.”
T hankfully , Mia saw Billy hurrying up the path toward them. “I'm sure there's been some mistake, but I will look into the incident.”
The small man gently , but firmly , took hold of Harold Stone's arm, “Can I help you back to the hotel, sir.” It was not a question. His sinewy arm was pure muscle.
The heavier man struggled in Billy's seemingly light grip , but couldn't get away. Billy said, “You don't seem to be feeling well, sir. I'll help you back to your room .”
Harold gave one last lunge at Mia, pulling with all his weight out of Billy's grip, and nearly crash ed to the ground. “You won't get away with it. I'll sue!”
The wiry ex-Marine quickly recovered his charge, nodding to Mia . “This way, sir.” There was no way Harold would escape that iron grip a second time.
By the time she got to her cottage, the light had soften ed into dusk. She walked through the newly painted green door and paused in pleasure at the charming living room. It was a lovely room, comfortable and intimate. She could imagine it as the perfect honeymoon suite with its private location at the edge of the main hotel grounds. The walls were a soft white, with hints of old-world moulding around the edges. The sofa looked classically formal, with faint roses on the satin-smooth , floral-patterned fabric, but was incredibly comfortable. The room could have existed a hundred years ago, in the Sea Islands ’ heyday, but it had all the comforts of a modern, luxurious home.
A magnificent bouquet of roses almost covered the coffee table. So sweet of Maria to remember her. Always red roses for her — her husband had been a classic romantic. She sank her nose into them and breathed in the smell. Lovely. She sat down and crossed her legs, checking out the magazines laid out in an artistic fan. A perfect selection for a rainy afternoon. This was going to be a relaxing stay, Mia thought.
Tonight, she wore an elegantly cut silk floral dress and coordinating blue spinel earrings. She added a large blue spinel ring with encircling diamonds to her left ring finger and smiled at the sparkle.
Mia still wore her wedding ring, even two years after her husband's death, because it always made her think of their wedding. Leo had put the simple diamond eternity ring on her finger and winked at her. She'd almost burst out laughing in the middle of the ceremony. His comical grin was infectious. She had a lovely engagement ring she wore frequently, of course, but she liked to mix up the jewelry she wore. It all had so many wonderful memories.
She walked through the damp night air to the hotel. It had turned cold tonight . S he shivered in her silk dress as the wind blew through the thin fabric . “Cat walking over my grave,” she said to herself, smiling at the phrase.
Inside the hotel felt cozy and warm, and she greeted the concierge with pleasure, “Sullivan! It's good to see you.”
The dark -haired young man smiled back . “Ms. Mia! It's good to see you too. Have you had a nice day?” He came forward to shake her hand, holding it lightly. Sullivan was dressed in chinos and a white button-down shirt, topped with a navy wool sports coat for the evening. His mobile mouth and merry dark eyes seemed to think the guests were visiting for his amusement, but he had a kind heart.
“It's been a good day, up to that poor man breaking his ankle.”
“Oh , yes . You were the one who called it in, weren't you?” He winked wickedly at her . “Mrs. Winley already has a substitute.” He grinned at the gossip .
“Really? That's fast work.”
“She came in , complaining about having to dine all alone. Trey offered to prevent the catastrophe.”
“Ah, Trey,” Mia said thoughtfully and frowned.
“Yes, just like Trey . ” Sullivan ’s eyebrow rose. . “If he doesn't marry rich, it won't be from lack of trying.”
“Hannah Winley is still quite married, from what I understand.”
“She won't be long if she keeps up what she's been up to,” Sullivan rejoined. “I doubt she'll be rich either. There’s probably a prenup.”
“I wish people would just come here and have fun . ” Mia ’s lips thinned .
“No worries there . ” T he concierge ’s narrow shoulders sh ook with suppressed laughter. “She's having plenty of fun.” His laughter subsided. L ean ing toward her, he confided, “I’m glad I saw you today. I ha ve a little problem I've been meaning to talk to Maria about, but I'd really prefer you handle it.” He looked worried.
“Yes?”
“It's about Misty, the spa receptionist. You know Misty?”
“Of course. What's wrong?”
“Well, she's a sweet girl, and she's having a little trouble with Trey Sulley. He keeps showing up at her apartment at odd hours. She didn't want to go to Maria, because it would be her word against his, and she loves her job. She's going to school part-time for physical therapy, and you know how we work with school hours.”
“Yes, I know.” Mia was concerned. “He's showing up at her apartment at night?”
“Yes, or very early, from your point of view. She lives on the island. It's odd, and it's making her nervous.” Sullivan was obviously protective of the young girl. “I don't think she's the only one whose door he shows up at, either.”
“I see,” Mia said thoughtfully. “I'll speak with Maria about him.”
Sullivan looked more worried. “She really likes her job.”
“Don't worry, I'll make sure there's no backlash on her, and she's protected.” Mia reassured him. “Trust me, Maria's dealt with this kind of thing before.”
Sullivan looked unconvinced. “Trey is a very smooth talker.”
Mia told him firmly, “I'll handle it.” She changed the subject. “So what's new and good at the Hammock Dining Room?”
“I'd try the new she crab soup. It's absolutely marvelous.”
“Sounds perfect,” Mia headed for the more casual restaurant . She was ushered to a quiet corner table with a good view of the restaurant. The dark windows showed a sweeping view of the bay opposite the island, with warm lights on the far shore. Potted palms and lemon trees in big china pots dotted the room, giving it a tropical feel. The air smelled like citrus, with the hint of delicious food. A candle in a low dish was set in the middle of the white tablecloth. Piano notes played here, accompanied by a soft alto singer, in a white sheath dress, swaying as she sang.
Her waitress, Dorrie, poured her water with a clink of ice . “What can I bring you tonight?”
“Hi, Dorrie. I was told to try the she crab soup,” Mia said. “And I feel like something hearty . Maybe the chef's famous seafood lasagna? With perhaps a crisp Soave wine to drink?”
The waitress whisked her menu away . She said, “I heard you rescued Hannah Winley's companion.”
“I just called the ambulance,” Mia explained. “And she's already found a new escor t. ” S he nodded toward Trey Sulley and Hannah , having an intimate dinner in the corner next to the piano. He leaned toward her, whispering something. Hannah shook her head and instinctively leaned back, but didn't leave the table.
“She doesn't seem to like him that much,” Dorrie commented. “I'll be right back with your order, Ms. Mia.”
As she watched, Hannah smiled seductively at Trey, leaned forward, and whispered. She was dripping in diamonds and sparkling with sequins, like last night. Quite a lot of brilliance for a casual dining room. But Dorrie was right, she didn't look happy with her dinner date, despite her toothy showgirl smile.
She looked around the long, low room and saw Rebecca and Sam with eyes only for each other, a beautiful sight indeed. Trying not to catch their eyes, she left them alone in their own world.
A few of the wedding guests were scattered around the room, old and new friends relaxing together now that the main event was over. Soft laughter and smiling voices mingled with appetizing smells.
The writer, Harold Stone, hunched over at a corner table, nursing a Scotch. He shoveled steak into his mouth, not pausing between bites. Mia didn't see how he could be tasting his food at all , let alone not choking . After that confrontation earlier, she didn't see how he was still vertical. Unfortunately, she couldn't lock unruly guests in their rooms. They were stuck with the drunk until he got unruly enough to be kicked out of the hotel, which was the last thing she wanted to do to such a well-known writer.
His wispy assistant sat ramrod straight, as far away as she could get from him and still sit at the same table . She was clearly disgusted by his lack of table manners ; her lips pursed as she sorted her salad .
Mia noticed Billy and his wife, Jolie, over on the side of the dining room and gave them a friendly nod. He nodded back, keeping one eye on Harold Stone , and one on his lovely wife. Jolie seemed happy to have a night off from cooking for her brood of grandchildren. Mia could hear her hearty laugh ring across the room, and it made her smile. She made a mental note to send them champagne when she ordered.
Sissy Collinsworth looked down at her menu, actively avoiding Mia's eye. She was still in the sand -sticky long skirt she'd worn all day.
Mia had a lovely dinner, enjoying her seafood lasagna comfort food. She skipped dessert tonight and rose to go at the same time as several other people in the restaurant.
Mia let the others weave through the room before her. She noticed Trey stoop , hand ing a paper to Sam. Odd, Mia thought. She hadn't seen Sam drop anything. Sam glanced at it casually, then stiffened, his eyes leaving Rebecca for the first time tonight. Trey and Hannah brushed by. Hannah, after a close-knit whispering laugh with Trey, continued to her cottage alone .
Trey paused to talk with the concierge in the lobby, laughing hard at something Sullivan apparently didn't find funny at all. He noticed Mia . “Ah, Mia. I'm so glad to see you. I wanted to apologize to you for your terrible experience at breakfast. I took care of the problem . H e won't be working here anymore . ” His mouth moved in an insincere grin.
Mia stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“I've fired that chef, Francisco González. He served you a terrible breakfast and wasn't up to the job of running a kitchen . ” H e shook his head in mock despair. “He couldn’t do the job.”
“I see,” Mia said icily. Personal dislike had not been a reason enough for her to fire Trey Sulley, but this might be. Of course, it was Maria's job to supervise her team. “You didn't think Maria, as the manager, should make that decision?”
“Word is she won't be manager much longer,” Trey said smoothly. “She's a bit past it, isn't she? Time for some new ideas and new blood here. Get some more exciting guests than old fogies, liven this place up.” He laughed heartily, not bothering to hide his disdain of several elderly guests passing him. From their expressions, they weren't all that hard of hearing.
“I see,” Mia repeated expressionlessly. She needed to get this scene away from the guests quickly, but she didn't want to be alone with Trey Sulley. “Sullivan, can you and Trey come to the office for a minute?”
She saw Billy kiss his wife, then wander casually in their direction as they headed for the office. Sullivan efficiently motioned one of his underlings to take charge of his desk and followed them back to Maria's office. Maria looked up from her work as they entered.
“Mia?” She looked around the group. “What's going on? Is something wrong?” Maria purposely avoided Trey's gaze, ignoring him.
“Did you fire Francisco González?” Mia asked. She'd get her facts straight first.
“No, of course not,” Maria said with confusion, smoothing her styled brown hair distractedly. “He's one of our best young chefs, training up well. I see him being head chef in a few years.”
“Head chef,” Trey sneered. “He can't even cook breakfast. I fired him.”
“What? He hasn't been on breakfast yet,” Maria said, bewildered. “He's not scheduled to train for that for another month.”
Mia clarified, “I believe Mr. Sulley put him in charge of breakfast this morning.”
“You what?” Maria stood up, her hands spread flat against her desk. Her face was horrified.
“He's a chef, isn't he? Chef called in sick, so I put González on,” Trey said confidently. “He couldn't do the job, so I fired him.” He looked at Mia for the expected vote of approval.
Mia avoided his gaze and sat down with composure in a side chair. Sullivan stood behind her, his elegant, lean frame ready for action.
Billy appeared in the doorway, his relaxed body poised on the balls of his feet. He turned his wrinkled face cheerfully from one speaker to the next, clearly enjoying the show. Mia glanced at him, and he winked cheekily.
“You put him on breakfast with no training?” Maria was aghast. “Then fired him? May I ask why?” she said with clipped syllables.
“He had the gall to serve Mia a lousy omelette. I heard she had to go and show him how to make one. So I fired him.” Trey was proud of his prompt action.
Mia added in her own icy tones, “He had not been trained in our method. I stayed in the kitchen afterwards, and he was doing an excellent job, under the circumstances.”
Maria looked at her for guidance, and Mia nodded. She'd stand by Maria's decision.
“You threw him in the deep end and fired him when he wasn't perfect,” Maria summed up with a frown, tapping her pencil on the desk.
She looked up decisively. “I'm afraid you're not what I'm looking for in my assistant managers, Mr. Sulley. You're fired.”
“Wait a minute,” Trey backpedaled briskly. “You can't fire me.”
Maria repeated, “You're fired.”
Trey cut in, “You can't fire me. I'll tell everything I know about you. I mean everything,” he threatened vindictively.
Mia felt Billy and Sullivan shift position slightly, ready for action.
Maria continued inexorably, “You're fired, effective immediately. You have two weeks to vacate your house on the island, according to your contract. During this time, you do not have use of the facilities.” She held out her hand, “Please hand me your master key card.”
Trey looked to Mia for help. “Mia, don't let her do this. I thought we were getting to be friends. I was just trying to help you out. I could tell you all kinds of things about Maria here,” he offered with a sly grin .
Mia stiffened, back straight as a board. “This is far from the only issue I have with you, Mr. Sulley. I had several problems that I had planned to discuss with Mrs. Sotos tomorrow. We have ample cause for your dismissal.”
He protested with a sneer, “You don't run this hotel. You're not the manager here anymore. You're just a rich man's leftovers. Like you care as long as the money rolls in, and you get your fancy vacations.”
Mia smiled like a crocodile . “I have the right to fire anyone I want. You're a disgrace to the hotel, and you are fired.”
He made a quick move toward her, and Sullivan stepped forward, balancing on his toes.
“Fine,” he backed down and fumbled for his key card. “It's a lousy job anyway.”
“I'm glad you feel that way, Mr. Sulley.”
Sullivan followed him out the door, herding him like a sheepdog. Billy nodded to Mia, walking alongside their charge. He winked at them as he gently closed the door.
“Whew,” Maria said.
“Yes, he's a nasty bit of work,” Mia said. “I was going to recommend you let him go when we chatted tomorrow. We just needed to make sure we had documented cause. He's the type that would sue unless we have ammunition. Did you know he's been showing up at the women’s apartments at night?”
Maria said stiffly, “No, I did not know that or his ass would have been out of here long ago.” She sighed, collapsing into her chair. “I need to have a team meeting. I should have spotted this.”
“Yes, they need to come to you with small problems before they become big ones,” Mia said emphatically.
Maria toyed with a pencil. “I thought they did. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.”
“It always does, until you hit a bump,” Mia told her. She paused, then went on, “Are you going to tell me what he was threatening you with?”
Maria looked away , her bottom lip trembling. “Oh, Mia, it's just so embarrassing, I don't want to talk about it. Things I thought were buried so long ago.” She looked down at her desk . “I may have given him one more chance than I should have to avoid the gossip, but that's all. There's no way I wouldn't have fired him after he fired Francisco for no cause.” She shuffled the papers, lining them up neatly . “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“It's okay . ” Mia trusted her old friend and didn't want to add to her discomfort right now. “Just clean up the mess and move on.” She'd find out what was going on , whether Maria told her or not.
“Right,” Maria said with decision. “First thing is a call to Francisco.” She picked up the phone, tapping a pencil, and Mia left her to it.
Rebecca stood on the balcony in her silk robe, shivering. She looked out into the dark, the lights blurring with her tears. They'd had a wonderful day. It really had been like a second honeymoon, Sam sailing and acting like when they'd met again. They'd had a wonderful dinner . T hen , suddenly, Sam had been distant again.
He'd barely spoken when they came up, seeming angry. He hadn't even noticed the new glamorous nightgown she'd bought for a special night on their trip. He hadn't even looked at her. He'd simply put on his ratty old pajamas and pretended to go to sleep. She knew he wasn't really asleep since he wasn't snoring. He was just lying there, pretending, so he didn't have to talk to her.
There was no point in starting a fight. Rebecca had left for the living room of their suite, which had a sofa bed. She'd pulled it out and lay down, but she couldn't sleep.
She heard Sam's door to the hallway close softly, muffled by the wall but still audible. He had gone out somewhere by himself, without her.
She drew the dark red robe tightly around her and swallowed the sleeping pill her doctor had given her for sleepless nights. It would take effect in a few minutes . S he wouldn't lie awake all night worrying.
She s tood looking down at the hotel terrace, mind starting to calm, knowing she would sleep soon. People came and went, happy voices chattering and calling. She knew what Mia meant about hotels being fun places. She loved the joy people had on vacations. The memories you took home.
They had had so much fun today, sailing in the bay. Life had seemed simple and perfect. And now it was back to this, Sam hiding from her, and her hiding from him. Where had he gone in the middle of the night?
No, she wouldn't think about that tonight. She'd let the medicine lull her to sleep. Any decisions she made tomorrow would be made with a clear head.
The air was heavy and still with hardly any wind. Oppressive. She looked down at the scattering of people walking through the palm tree shadows. The palmetto fronds made a clackety noise, percussion to the soft splash of waves. Glasses clinked . G uests talked in cheerful voices. She spotted Mia leaving by the back way and strolling down the beach, then returning to her cottage.
That sweet young chef who made the wonderful pastries came out carrying a bag, walking rapidly down the beach toward the apartments. Late for him to still be at work, she thought vaguely.
Maria, the manager, came past, also walking down the beach, her flashlight disappearing in the distance. She looked upset, her steps rapid and clipped. Rebecca thought she wasn't the only one having a bad night.
That assistant manager, Trey, hurried after Maria. He walked angrily down the beach , his legs carrying him over the sand in forceful strides. She saw his flashlight disappear through the palmetto palms.
Sam appear ed on the beach, dressed in the same clothes he'd worn today , walking down to the sand. Her heart cried out. She didn't understand what was happening to them. He disappeared past the palmettos, walking through the wave-washed sand.
A wedding party went down to the beach, chattering with great bursts of laughter. The men seemed happily tipsy, and their wives not much different. They waded through the splashing waves, pants rolled up, and sand between their toes. It was good to see people having fun.
Beyond the warm lights, the inky black of the ocean reached out forever under the domed dark sky. Palm trees clattered in the ocean breeze, and the sounds of revelers gradually faded as the night claimed them.
She tried to stay awake to hear Sam come in, but the medicine lulled her to sleep. Eventually, she found her way back to her solitary bed. She hadn't seen Sam again.
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