Grand Hotel

by Mary Davis

“I don’t know. Trespassing or something?”

  “I’ll find you a place to stay for tonight, but you absolutely have to leave the island tomorrow if you can’t afford to book yourself a room. Promise me that.”

  “Leave the island? But what if I’m not ready to leave?”

  “Then rent yourself a room.”

  “Is there anyone on the island who would give me a room for free for a couple of nights?”

  Other than him, a big pushover? “Not that I know of.”

  “Those have wheels you know.” She pointed to her luggage. “It’s much easier to roll them behind you.”

  “The dirt and debris on the forest floor would ruin the bearings in the wheels.”

  “That is so thoughtful of you. I didn’t think of that when I rolled them out here.”

  He flashed back to the first time he saw her, two days ago, and his initial thought about her—trouble. She wasn’t serious trouble for him. More of an inconvenience. And she hadn’t caused any fuss for either the bride or groom. They seemed to like her, but something Mrs. Whitehall said stuck with him. Is this your other photographer? He hadn’t thought about it at the time, but although Mrs. Whitehall had directed the comment to him, Aimee had swept her away. And what about her sneaking into one of the rooms and seeming to be frustrated with him for seeing that she arrived at the proper events? Then it hit him like a revelation. “You weren’t really part of the wedding party, were you?”

  “You saw me taking pictures with my digital camera. Some of the shots turned out great. I hope Maddy and Huey like them. They are such a darling couple. I’m praying that they have a long, happy marriage.”

  And she was trying to distract him with a subtle change in subject. Not going to work, missy. “But you don’t know them?”

  “Like know know or acquaintance know?”

  He would make the question so direct she couldn’t sidestep it. “Had you ever met either the bride or groom before you stepped foot on this island?”

  She hesitated, then said, “No.”

  That was the shortest answer he had ever heard from her.

  Then she continued, “But they were really nice when I met them. I got Huey’s e-mail address, and I’m going to send him all the pictures, so I really did do what I said I was going to do.”

  He supposed she wouldn’t be satisfied with a one-word answer for long without adding an addendum.

  Once they reached the sidewalk, he set the suitcases on the cement and pulled up the extension handles to roll them. As he grabbed the second handle, so did Aimee. Her soft hand brushed against his. He remembered how it felt to hold it as he shook her hand the other day when they met.

  She cocked her head to one side. “I can take one.”

  “I’ve got them.”

  “How chivalrous. This is all very nice of you.”

  Would she still think so when he questioned her as to her reason for being here. If he didn’t like her answers or didn’t believe them, he might still call the sheriff.

  “There has been something lost in our country when guys don’t carry a girl’s books or open doors for ladies anymore, and things like that,” Aimee said. “I’m not saying it is the fault of men or anything. They are just protecting themselves from crabby women who are offended by common courtesy. How could it be insulting for one person to hold a door open for another? I just don’t see it. But here at your hotel, courtesy is paramount. People are always around to help in any way they can.”

  “We pride ourselves on service.” He hoisted the suitcases up as he climbed the hotel’s porch steps, then walked half the length of the porch to the front door.

  The night doorman, Marvin, opened the door for them. “Good evening, sir.”

  “Thank you, Marvin.” He let Aimee enter ahead of him.

  “See, there it is again. Marvin opened the door, and you let me go in first. I’m just not used to it. Don’t get me wrong. I like it. I’m just not used to it.”

  He set her luggage inside his office and motioned toward a burgundy leather chair opposite the desk. “Have a seat.” He walked around and sat behind his oak desk. He folded his hands and rested them on the clean desk pad. “Ms. Mikkelson—”

  “Please, call me Aimee.” She shifted in her chair like a fidgety child.

  “Ms. Mikkelson, since we have previously determined that you did not come for the wedding, please enlighten me on your purpose for being here.”

  “I thought you were finding me a place to stay.”

  “First, we must settle this matter.”

  She looked as though she might leap from the chair and bolt. Then he really would need to call the sheriff.

  She looked at a picture on the wall, then glanced at his filing cabinet. Suddenly she developed an interest in her nails. “You see, it’s like this: My great-great-grandfather helped build this hotel.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. Was she for real? Did she really expect him to believe that?

  “No, really. His name was Adam Wright. He was on one of the crews building this great hotel. If there is some record of who worked on the crews, you’ll find his name right there. He met the daughter of one of the crew leaders and fell in love with her. Long story short, they got married and lived happily ever after. But Great-Great-Grandfather Adam told my great-great-grandmother that he left a secret buried inside this hotel for their future grandchildren to find—well, that was even before she consented to see him—but how could she say no to him when he was Mr. Wright?”

  Cute joke, but he refused to acknowledge it. It would only encourage her.

  She twisted one hand in the other. “Well, my grandma is the only living grandchild remaining, and she couldn’t come because she’s blind and fell and broke her hip, so I came to find it for her. I had to. She keeps talking about not living much longer. I wanted to make this dream happen for her before she dies, or maybe it will help pull her through so she’ll get better. I just have to find what was left for her.”

  Her story was so fantastical and unreal. How could anyone make it up? He actually believed her. It wasn’t the story, but the earnestness in her voice as she told it. He wanted to believe her. He couldn’t believe he was about to ask this. “Just what did your great-grandfather leave here?”

  “Great-great-grandfather.”

  “Fine. What did he supposedly leave behind?”

  “I don’t know. He never told Nonie. Just that she was to find it. He left her a riddle to help her. When she was old enough to figure out the riddle, she was old enough to appreciate the gift. She’s ninety-three. I think she’s old enough.”

  That was beside the point. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to try to convince you that if your great-great-grandfather did work on the construction of this hotel that it was likely just a tale he told your grandmother, and he really didn’t leave anything in these walls.”

  “Actually it’s in the floor. The riddle says, ‘In the wood below.’ That has to be a wood floor.”

  “If there was something, it would have been discovered years ago. I’m sure it is no longer here.”

  Her mouth pulled down in a slight pout. “But I won’t know if I don’t at least look.”

  She definitely had a one-track mind. “And what do you plan to do with this treasure if you find it?”

  “Take it back to Nonie, of course.”

  “Do you realize that removing items from the hotel would be considered stealing?”

  She pinched her eyebrows together. “But it was left for her.”

  “But if it has been here since the hotel’s construction, then it would be considered hotel property.”

  She stared at him without a word. He waited for her to assent that he was right and her quest futile.

  She blinked several times. “Wow.”

  Did “wow” mean she understood?

  She slapped her hand to her forehead. “Wow.” She stood and walked out.

  His office door hung open. It was his
turn to stare. He turned his gaze to her suitcases, camera bag, and purse. She would be back in a moment. She had to.

  After ten minutes, he checked his watch again. She couldn’t go far without her things, and the last ferry had left for the night. He would give her a few more minutes.

  When she hadn’t returned in fifteen minutes, he left his office to locate her. Was she still in the hotel? Or had she left the grounds? He stopped at the front doors. “Marvin, did a young blond woman exit through these doors?”

  “No, sir. But there is a pretty girl down there.” Marvin pointed to the west end of the lobby.

  Aimee stood at the windows looking out as she had the first day she arrived. He came up behind her. She must have sensed him there because she spoke. “It’s beautiful.”

  He looked out into the darkness at the lighted Mackinac Bridge. He wasn’t sure what else to say in that moment so dropped a piece of trivia. “The bridge is five miles long.”

  After a minute, she turned to face him. “You know that saying, ‘Look before you leap?’ Well, I don’t. Look, that is. I see what needs to be done and just leap. No thought about how or the details. I work that stuff out as I go. Just go and do. You don’t talk about painting a room; you just do it. If you don’t like the color, paint over it. Someone else would study paint chips and research what color would be best.”

  Is this supposed to make sense?

  “It may take them a month to decide, but they would pick out the right color the first time. I can have the room painted three or four times. But after a month, both rooms would be painted the right color. Does that make one way right and the other wrong?”

  He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the relevance. “What does that have to do with the current situation?”

  “I just can’t sit around and do nothing. I need to be active. You’re right. Whatever Adam Wright left here belongs to the hotel. But where does that leave Nonie?”

  He hoped that was a rhetorical question.

  “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “Let’s go back to my office and get you a place to stay for the night.”

  She followed him with her shoulders slumped and her smile gone.

  It was late and finding her lodging could take a little doing, especially when all she could afford was free. He brought up the hotel registry on his computer. He had the authorization to comp a room, but then he would need to report the room use and why to his boss. Rumors would start flying around the hotel. He didn’t want to mess with any of that. The easiest solution was often the best. He would put her in his apartment and crash at Steve’s. Steve would keep this to himself.

  He took her suitcases and led her out of his office. “Follow me.” He led her out the back of the hotel and across a narrow road to the hotel’s staff apartment building. The accommodations were small but adequate. He unlocked his door for her.

  “Is this your place?”

  “Yes. Have a seat.”

  She remained by the door. “I can’t stay here with you.”

  “Good, because you’ll be staying here without me. I’m going to stay at Steve’s for the night. You wanted free. This is free. It’s the only offer you are going to get.”

  He went to his bedroom and packed an overnight bag and laid a suit bag with a fresh suit in it out on his bed. He went to the bathroom to pack his shaving kit and put that in his overnight bag. He returned to his small living area and set down his bag and suit.

  Aimee stood by a shelf unit that held his book collection, as well as family photographs. It was the photos that seemed to hold her interest: his parents’ wedding picture, his first fish with his dad. . . His gaze locked on the silver frame with his mom holding him as a baby. Don’t dwell.

  “Housekeeping put fresh sheets on today. I’ll come back in the morning.”

  “This is really, really nice of you to give up your place for me.”

  Would she think him so nice when he escorted her to the ferry first thing in the morning? “It’s only one night. And you will either find other accommodations or leave the island. Understood?”

  She gulped and nodded.

  ❧

  Dillon knocked on Steve’s door, not looking forward to explaining why he needed a place to stay for the night.

  Steve opened the door in boxers and a T-shirt and, after surveying the suit bag and overnight bag, said, “What’s up?” but stepped aside to let him enter.

  “Can I crash on your couch for the night?” He laid his suit bag over a wingback chair and his other bag on the floor.

  “What’s wrong with your place?”

  “It’s occupied.”

  “Bummer. By whom?”

  He didn’t want to answer that but did. “Aimee Mikkelson.”

  Steve’s eyes widened. “That cute little blond who’s been hanging around you the last couple of days?”

  “She hasn’t been hanging around me. I’ve been keeping an eye on her. And yes, she’s the one.”

  “Buddy, am I to understand you right? You have a gorgeous babe in your apartment, and you are sleeping here?”

  “There is nothing between us and never will be.”

  Steve’s mouth pulled into a smile. “Then why don’t you sleep on your own couch?”

  “It’s better this way.”

  “Because you’re attracted to her.”

  “I don’t have time to be attracted to Aimee or any other woman.”

  “Ah yes, your plan to become general manager of the Grand Hotel by age thirty-five.”

  He’d promised his mother as she lay dying that he’d buy her the Grand Hotel if she would only live. And when she died, he was still determined to buy it for her. But his seven-year-old mind didn’t understand how impossible that would be. So, as he grew up, he settled for running the hotel his mother had always dreamed of visiting.

  “Are the sacrifices worth it?”

  Steve’s question brought him out of his reverie. Dillon didn’t think that Steve really wanted an answer to his rhetorical question, so he let it slide.

  Steve retrieved the spare bedding from the top of the coat closet. Dillon had a similar set in his closet. Standard issue for the hotel’s apartments.

  “So if you really aren’t interested in Aimee, you wouldn’t mind if I showed her a little interest?”

  What did it matter? She would be gone tomorrow. If she couldn’t afford a room tonight, then she wouldn’t be able to tomorrow either. “That’s up to you.”

  “Sweet.” Steve plopped the bedding onto the couch. “You’ll have to make it up yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  Steve gave him a wave as he headed to his bedroom.

  Dillon pulled out his toiletry kit and headed for the bathroom. He dug through his bag but couldn’t find the case for his contact lenses. He checked his pants pocket and his overnight bag. He couldn’t wash up without removing his contacts. He headed back to his place and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked louder. Come on, Aimee. Answer the door.

  ❧

  Aimee walked out into Dillon’s living room wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants she used as pajamas, towel-drying her hair. The shower had felt more glorious than she’d thought possible. Maybe it was due to the fact she didn’t know when she’d get to take an actual shower again while trying to evade Dillon and search the hotel. The task would be hard, but not impossible. She had to find the treasure tomorrow and then arrange to borrow what she found to show Nonie.

  She stopped short when she saw Dillon sitting in an overstuffed chair on the far side of the room. “Dillon.” She was glad he couldn’t read her mind.

  He stayed seated in the chair. “I forgot my contact lens case. You mind if I get it?”

  “Don’t you just hate it when you forget your case or lose it? I lost my case once when I was in college; well, I lost it more than once, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I took two glasses and put one contact in each with a little water and put them on opposite sid
es of the sink so I wouldn’t put the left contact in my right eye and the right one in the left. The world looks funny when you do that. Have you ever done that?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t say that I have.”

  “Wow. I thought everyone had done that at least once.” She shrugged. “So, in the morning, one of my contacts is gone and the glass empty. I asked my roommate if she knew what happened to it. Her eyes got real big and her face paled a bit, then she said, ‘I dreamed I was in the desert and this fish came along and gave me some water.’ I laughed so hard. You see my roommate walked in her sleep all the time. She drank my contact lens in her dream. I went around the entire day squinting with one eye so I could see halfway straight.”

  Dillon hadn’t moved from the chair. He drew in a slow breath. “I’ll just get my case. I have a full day tomorrow and need rest.” He pushed out of the chair, then disappeared down the hall and returned a moment later holding up his lens case as if proof of his just intentions.

  “I noticed you only have two DVDs. Is that really all you have?”

  “I don’t have much extra time to indulge in television.”

  “Then Constance was right. You work too much.”

  “I do what needs to be done.”

  She plucked the DVDs off his shelf. “I haven’t heard of either one of these movies.”

  “Both of those movies were filmed at this hotel. The hotel pool was built for Esther Williams for her 1947 movie, This Time for Keeps. The movie Somewhere in Time came out in 1980.”

  “Let me guess. You only have these movies for research.”

  “As I said, I don’t have a lot of extra time.”

  “You should make time. Which one do you recommend?” She held one up in each hand.

  “It doesn’t matter. They are both supposed to be good.”

  “Supposed? You mean you haven’t watched them?”

  “Not clear through. Just bits and pieces.”

  She held up the older one. “Let’s watch this one.”

  “You can watch whichever one you want. I have work tomorrow.” He turned and left.

  She stared at the closed door. There was a guy who seriously needed to relax.

  Five