by Cindy Bell
“I wish I could,” Mitchell sighed with disappointment. “You have no idea how much I want to,” she could hear him frowning over the phone and the longing in his tone.
“Are you working late again?” Vicky asked with dismay. “You've been working late every night for over a week!”
“Yes, Sheriff McDonald is still angry with me. I questioned him on one of the cases we were investigating, so he has me pulling double shifts,” he groaned. “I can't say that I regret speaking up, but he sure is making me pay for it.”
“That man,” Vicky said with annoyance but stopped herself before saying too much. She didn't like the way that Sheriff McDonald treated Mitchell, but she also knew how important Mitchell's job was to him.
“I know, I know,” he sighed again. “But it can't go on forever.”
“I hope not,” Vicky replied with a hint of a pout in her voice. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Vicky,” he replied in a loving tone. “Don't worry, he has to let me sleep sometime.”
That's what you think, Vicky thought to herself. She suspected that Sheriff McDonald was trying to see how long it would take for Mitchell to break. She also knew that Sheriff McDonald would have a very long wait. Mitchell was one of the most patient and determined people that she had ever known.
“You're not upset are you?” Mitchell asked cautiously.
“No, I'm not,” Vicky said quickly. “I understand, I do actually have a bridal shower to plan anyway,” she added as she reached her apartment, which consisted of several rooms that had been converted into an apartment for her to live in so that there would always be someone in charge living in the inn. Aunt Ida also lived in one of the guest rooms at the inn but she was not really active in running the inn, she was more active in getting into trouble.
“Thanks for understanding,” Mitchell said. “I'll see you soon, I promise.”
“I'm always here,” Vicky pointed out with a laugh before she hung up the phone. She settled down at her work desk in her office and opened up the plans she had been working on for the bridal shower. They were doing it for free for a waitress that worked in one of the restaurants in town. It was a way to generate good word of mouth advertising, and to give back to the community. Vicky was very excited about it because she was going to plan it from beginning to end. Usually she had to make choices based on the input or desires of the client. In this case she was getting to choose almost all of the elements of the bridal shower, which she really enjoyed.
Vicky was looking over some color schemes when she heard loud voices coming from the pool area. Her apartment was only a short distance from the pool. She couldn't quite make out what the voices were saying, but she could tell that they were angry. She waited a few moments, hoping that the argument would calm down. She assumed it was Sandy and Gerald fighting. When the voices rose even louder instead of calming, Vicky stood up from her desk. Although the Holsteads were important guests she had to think of the comfort of the other guests that were staying in the inn. No one went on a weekend vacation to hear someone arguing. Vicky walked down the walkway to the pool area. She could hear snippets of their conversation as she did.
“Look at this pool,” Sandy was insisting. “It's beautiful and clear, it doesn’t even smell of chlorine like most of the pools we swim in do. I want to spend the day swimming and tanning tomorrow.”
“We came here to relax,” Gerald argued in return. “What could be more relaxing than the spa and massage package?”
“I don't want that, I can have that any place we go. This pool won't be anywhere else we go,” she pointed out with determination.
“This weekend was supposed to be for us,” Gerald responded heatedly.
“I'm not the one who chose this place,” Sandy shot back. “This inn I've never heard of in the middle of nowhere, you were the one who insisted we come here. So, we're going to do what I want to do,” she added, her voice raising with every word she spoke. There was so much tension between the couple that by the time Vicky walked up to them, she expected either one to launch a physical attack at any moment. She knew that she needed to say something to break the tension.
“Excuse me,” she said with a warm smile as she stepped through the gate that led to the pool. “I just wanted to check if you would like to have lunch at the inn? We have a private room that I can reserve for you if you'd rather dine by yourselves, or if you would prefer you can have it in the main dining room.”
Both of the Holsteads turned to look at Vicky with abrupt disdain at having their argument interrupted.
“No, we'll just have room service,” Gerald snapped.
“Yes, it would probably be best if we stayed holed up in our room,” Sandy sighed and shook her head with defeat. “No one wants to hear us argue over soup or salad.”
Vicky smiled compassionately.
“I'm sure your room is just about ready, and if there's anything either of you need, please feel free to ask,” she added and looked from one to the other. She hoped they would be able to find some kind of peace or relaxation during their weekend at the inn. Most people were swept into a bit of a fantasy life when they stayed at the Heavenly Highland Inn, but it seemed as if these two were going to need something that had a much bigger impact than a weekend at the inn. Though she and Mitchell had their share of disagreements they rarely argued. Then again, they weren't married, or even living together. Vicky imagined that changed the level of arguing in a relationship. Just then one of the maids arrived to walk Sandy and Gerald to their room.
“Actually, there is one thing I would like,” Sandy said as Gerald began to follow the maid. “I would love a glass of wine,” she smiled at Vicky.
“A glass of wine? You can't wait until lunch?” Gerald demanded with frustration. “Are you planning to be sloshed by dessert?”
“Save it, Gerald,” Sandy rolled her eyes and settled back down at the table. “If I want a glass of wine by the pool, I'm going to have it. In case you were wondering, you're not invited,” she added with a flash in her eyes. Gerald's cheeks grew red with anger and Vicky averted her gaze respectfully from the squabble. She wasn't sure what to say to alleviate the tension.
“We have a nice chardonnay,” she murmured as she glanced at Sandy.
“That sounds perfect,” Sandy agreed with a nod. She seemed entirely undisturbed by her husband's fury as he stalked off after the maid. Vicky was relieved to walk away as well. She headed for the kitchen to make sure that Chef Henry knew that the Holsteads wanted room service and to get Sandy her glass of wine. Vicky walked into the kitchen to find a relatively new sous chef preparing the salads that would accompany the main dish of the lunch that was being served.
“Hello, Peter,” Vicky said with a small smile as she met the eyes of the man before her. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. He was new to town and Henry had taken a chance on him because he liked to provide work for the locals.
“Yes, ma'am,” Peter said and lowered his eyes. He seemed fairly shy, which Vicky found to be endearing.
“Where's Chef Henry?” she asked as she glanced around the kitchen.
“He is talking with a few of the guests in the dining room,” Peter replied as he finished the last salad.
“Well, can you please inform him that the Holsteads would like their lunch in their room?” Vicky asked politely.
“Oh, I can take it up to them,” Peter offered with a shrug.
“No,” Vicky said firmly. “I'd prefer it if it was Chef Henry who took them their food, okay?” she raised an eyebrow and waited for Peter to look up at her. He had pale blue eyes that seemed as evasive as his demeanor.
“Sure, of course,” he nodded.
“Could you get me a glass of chardonnay for Mrs. Holstead?” she inquired. “Better make it a large one,” she added as an afterthought. She was sure that Sandy was going to need something to relax her.
“Absolutely,” he nodded and retrieved one of the glasses. He opened a new bottle of win
e and poured the drink into the glass, then handed it to Vicky.
“Thanks,” she replied. As she took the glass from him she thought she had better be sure that he knew about Sandy’s allergy. “Did Chef Henry tell you to make sure there are no products with peanuts in the kitchen?” Vicky asked.
“Yes, don't worry, everything with peanuts is out,” he assured her. Vicky nodded and then she carried the glass out to Sandy who was staring out across the grounds. The view from the pool was idyllic as it was of the blooming gardens set against a backdrop of rolling hills that blended into the thick woods.
“Here you are, Mrs. Holstead,” Vicky said as she walked up to her.
“Thank you, so much,” Sandy replied as she accepted the glass of wine. “Please, will you sit with me for a moment?” she suggested. “I do hate to drink alone, but my husband is not very good company at the moment.”
Vicky sat down at the table beside her and spoke carefully, she didn't want to appear as if she was prying.
“He seems a bit out of sorts,” she offered.
“A bit?” Sandy laughed at that and took a big swallow of her wine. For the first time Vicky suspected that this wasn't the only wine she'd had so far that day. “Oh, Gerald is never happy,” she sighed and swirled her wine in the glass. “The truth is, that my husband's eyes have been wandering,” Sandy slurred as she drank a gulp of her wine. She leaned back in her chair and gazed out over the sky. “I'm not bad to look at, am I?” she asked as she glanced over at Vicky.
“Not at all,” Vicky replied as she smiled sympathetically at the woman. “You're very beautiful.”
“And rich,” Sandy added as she took another large sip of her wine. “You might think that would be enough to keep a man happy. But, no, not Gerald,” she sighed, her shoulders drooped, and her eyes nearly fell shut. “I don't know who she is, or how often he sees her, but sometimes I can smell another woman on him.”
“Are you sure?” Vicky asked as she tried to look into the woman's eyes. “Maybe he is just picking up perfume from another woman at work.”
“Not at the plant,” Sandy giggled and shook her head. “None of the men that work there wear anything quite so flowery,” she winked at Vicky in an attempt to cover the hurt in her eyes. But Vicky could see through it. She frowned as she patted the woman's hand gently.
“I'm sorry that you're going through this,” Vicky murmured.
“Listen to me, blubbering on about myself, and you don't even know me,” Sandy shook her head dismissively. “I'm sorry, I guess it's the wine.”
“Don't be sorry,” Vicky encouraged her as she gave her hand a light squeeze. “Have you thought about confronting him with what you know?”
“For what?” Sandy shrugged. “He'll never admit to it,” she pointed out and finished off the last of her wine. “I'm his bread and butter, and I'm sure he's cautious enough never to lose that,” she smiled briefly as she glanced at Vicky. “Ah well, I'm sure there are worse things in life. Thank you for listening,” she added as she stood up from the table.
“Let me walk you to your room,” Vicky suggested as she stood up as well.
“Oh no, please, I'm fine,” Sandy laughed a little. “I don't need an escort, but here,” she handed Vicky the glass and nodded her head. “Would you mind having the rest of that bottle sent up to me?”
“Not at all,” Vicky replied and smiled as she held the door to the lobby open for Sandy to walk through. Vicky walked back towards the kitchen to ask for the bottle of wine to be sent up with the Holsteads’ meal. She found Henry adding the final touches to the main dish.
“Henry, can you make sure that the rest of that bottle of chardonnay goes with the Holsteads' lunch?” Vicky asked as she stepped up beside him.
“Sure,” Henry nodded with a slight frown.
“Is something wrong?” Vicky asked as Henry was not his usual boisterous self.
“Not really, it's just Peter can be very forgetful sometimes, it gets a little frustrating,” he admitted. “I'm sure he'll start paying closer attention soon. I'll make sure the Holsteads get their wine,” he added and flashed a smile in Vicky's direction.
“Thanks, Henry,” Vicky smiled, but she left the kitchen feeling a little uneasy. She wasn't sure what to think of Peter, but something simply didn't feel right and if Henry was having his doubts, too, then there might be a real issue.
Vicky headed back outside to tidy up the pool area and make sure it was ready for the rest of the day. Once all of the chairs were in place she decided to spend a little time on the porch to clear her mind. It had been invaded by fabric swatches and place settings. As she walked around to the front of the inn she glanced over the grounds. Everything seemed to be as it should be, aside from the fact that the shed door was slightly open. Sometimes it stuck. She walked over to it and gave it a hard shove. When she heard it click shut she knew it was actually closed. Satisfied, she walked the rest of the way to the front porch.
The sun was shining up ahead. It was surprisingly peaceful for this time of day, with little to interrupt the solace of the gardens she walked through, except for the chirping of birds and the trickling sound of the various fountains that were scattered throughout the gardens. Vicky stepped up onto the porch from the side of the inn and walked towards the swing that hung a few feet from the large bay window that let ample sunlight into the main lobby of the inn. She settled into it and closed her eyes.
Vicky drew a deep breath of the slightly moist air which was laced with the scent of the lush foliage that surrounded the inn. Just as she exhaled her cell phone chirped, announcing that she had a text message. She checked the message to find that it was Mitchell checking in with her. She texted back about the spat she had just witnessed, and that she was looking forward to spending some time with him any time he had the chance. The text that he replied with surprised her. It simply said, 'How about right now?'. She glanced up to find a patrol car rolling into the driveway of the inn. She stood up from the swing and smiled as Mitchell stepped out of the car. He was in full uniform. She hadn't seen him in uniform in some time since he had been promoted to detective.
“What's all this about?” she asked as he climbed the steps and wrapped his arms around her. “Not that I'm complaining,” she added with a sultry wink as she made a show of looking him over from head to toe.
“I'm complaining,” he gritted his teeth, but couldn't hide a smile in reaction to the way she looked at him. “This is Sheriff McDonald's way of teaching me that he's in charge,” he shook his head slowly back and forth. “That man really has something against me. The extra shifts I'm covering are patrol shifts. There are plenty of officers to cover them, but he decided I needed to spend a little time in uniform.”
“Wow, he's something,” Vicky muttered and bit back the colorful language she would prefer to use. She knew that Mitchell was very respectful of his boss, even if they often didn't see eye to eye.
“Honestly, it's not too bad,” Mitchell replied as they walked back over to the swing. He sat down beside her and draped his arm around her shoulders. Vicky immediately felt warmed and relaxed by his presence. Mitchell had that effect on her. No matter what was going on in her life, his presence was simply soothing and seemed to put things into perspective for her.
“How can you say that?” Vicky asked as she leaned her head against the curve of his shoulder and looked up into his eyes. “You've worked so hard to earn your new title.”
“I have,” he agreed as he entangled his hand with hers. “But I don't lose it just because I'm in uniform, and it is a good reminder of what the patrol officers go through. Besides,” he grinned as he leaned in closer to her, “it makes it easier for me to keep an eye on Ida.”
“Good point,” Vicky laughed, her eyes dancing as she did. “I don't know where she comes up with these ideas.”
“Me, neither,” Mitchell chuckled and shook his head. “But I've heard from some of the other officers that they've spotted her tearing up and down the bac
k roads. So, I'm going to keep a close watch on her.”
“Oh, Aunt Ida,” Vicky sighed and melted into Mitchell's arms. She felt so comfortable, even though she knew at any moment his radio might buzz to life and he would have to rush off. But she treasured the moment they were sharing in the middle of such a peaceful, early afternoon.
“Vicky? Vicky where are you?” Sarah shouted from inside the inn. The sound of the fear in her sister's voice was enough to instantly propel Vicky up off the swing. She rushed towards the front door. Mitchell was right on her heels as she stepped into the lobby. She was nearly barreled over by her sister who was running for the elevator while shouting the address of the inn into her cell phone.
“Sarah, what's going on?” Vicky asked with wide, fearful eyes. She could tell from the panic in her sister's expression that whatever it was, wasn't good.
“It's Sandy Holstead, she's had an allergic reaction,” Sarah gasped out as the elevator doors slid closed.
“Here, we'll take the stairs,” Mitchell said without hesitation. They bounded up the stairs that led to the second floor and arrived in the hallway just as Sarah was stepping into the Holsteads’ room. She was crouched down beside Sandy when Mitchell and Vicky walked in. Gerald was on his knees with tears trailing down his cheeks.
“Sandy, Sandy, wake up darling,” he was moaning as he clutched at her hand with a trembling grasp.
“Where's her EpiPen?” Sarah barked as Mitchell dropped down beside Sandy to check her vital signs and attempt to clear her airway.
“It's here,” Gerald mumbled through his tears as he held out the EpiPen.
Mitchell met Vicky's eyes over Sandy's body and shook his head slowly, she was already gone.
“Why didn't you use it?” Sarah asked Gerald sharply. It was rare for Vicky to hear her sister speak in such a harsh tone, but she was feeling the same quick anger rise within her.