Grand Hotel

by Mary Davis

  “No matter. I’m just glad to have you back.”

  “But I did bring you something.” She pulled the wrapped board out of the bag and laid it across Nonie’s lap. “I found it, Nonie.”

  Nonie sucked in a breath. “I thought it was no longer there, and that’s why you stopped calling.” Nonie tore off the paper and ran her hands over the smooth surface. “It feels like a board. What is it?”

  “Down here.” Aimee moved Nonie’s fingers to the end with the carving.

  Nonie outlined each letter with her fingers.

  Aimee’s eyes blurred as she imagined each word coming together for the sightless woman.

  A tear rolled down Nonie’s cheek. “He loved her very much.”

  All she could do was nod, even though she knew Nonie couldn’t see it. She pulled two tissues out of the box by Nonie’s bed and handed one to Nonie and dabbed at her own tears with the other.

  “So you found it. I thought it was probably lost forever. In well over a hundred years, a lot of things could have happened to this.”

  A lot of things had.

  Nonie turned her face up toward her. “Was it still where Granddad left it?”

  “The hotel has grown since the original structure Adam Wright helped build. In one of the renovations, this board was removed and originally left in a scrap pile that was stored until needed in any future remodeling or repairs. Henry, the doorman at the hotel—he’s been there for sixty years. Can you believe that? Anyway, Henry lived in this little cottage on the back of the hotel grounds and used those leftovers to fix up his place. He had this in his front windowsill where his first wife lovingly polished it. It’s just all so romantic. I wish I could have met all these people who have touched the history of the Grand Hotel.”

  “Well, in a way you have by finding this board and becoming friends with Henry. You have felt the hotel’s heartbeat, its history.”

  “Nonie, I was thinking as I was traveling away from Mackinac Island. I want to write Adam and Lacey’s story.”

  “Like a book?”

  “Oh, nothing that would be published or anything. But this is our family legacy. I want to preserve it for our future generations.”

  Nonie pointed toward her dresser. “In my bottom drawer, there are some letters and Lacey’s journal. Take them. Tell their story.”

  She hugged the old woman around the shoulder. “Thank you.”

  Nonie patted her hand. “Now tell me about your man.”

  She guffawed. “I don’t have a man.”

  “Your boss. When you called to say you had a job and would need to stay on the island for a while, I heard it in your voice. He’s special.”

  Dillon was definitely special. And he’d given her a hasty parting kiss. “He’s a faithful Christian and has the cutest dimples.”

  “You always did have a penchant for dimples. Remember the time you drew black dots on your cheeks with a permanent marker because you wanted dimples.”

  “Mom practically scrubbed my cheeks raw, and they still didn’t come off.”

  “She was so furious with you. Easter family picture and you with black on your face.”

  “I love that picture. My ‘dimples’ were just light enough to look like they might be real.” She touched her cheek where one of them had been all those years ago. She wished she could poke Dillon’s dimples one last time just to see the stunned look on his face.

  ❧

  Dillon roamed the hotel, floor by floor. He came to rest at his desk and stared across at the empty chair. This place just wasn’t the same without Aimee. Quiet and stagnant. Is this really what his life had been like before she arrived?

  He missed the lilt of her voice as she spun off into some trite bit of information or a barely related story. But none of it was trite. It was who she was. It was hard to believe he’d only known her for a little over a month. He knew more about her than he knew about people he’d worked with for years. More than he knew about Steve, with whom he’d worked for two years.

  And he’d told her more about himself than he’d told anyone else.

  He should have told her how he felt about her. What if she didn’t come back?

  “I hope she gets back soon.” Steve stood in his doorway. “I don’t know how much more of your moping I can take.”

  “I’m not moping.”

  “You are, too. You’re like a lost little puppy dog. If you don’t tell her how you feel when she gets back, I will.” Steve slapped the door frame with his palm and left.

  Dillon went to his apartment and microwaved a chicken and broccoli something-or-other he had in his refrigerator. Though he knew the spices and seasonings Chef Tony prepared it with were robust and flavorful, he just couldn’t enjoy the meal.

  He glanced at his watch. The sun would be setting in five minutes. He set his plate on the counter and picked up the silver-framed photo. “It’s time, Mom.”

  He took the picture with him and strode through the hotel but stopped several paces before he reached the front doors. He could see the orange and pink hues filtering through the lobby windows, setting the furnishings aglow. He took a deep breath and did an about-face. Something wasn’t right.

  After going to bed, he couldn’t sleep. He rolled over in bed. Sleep was elusive tonight. He felt like a fish flopping about.

  Around one, he heard a knock on his door. Who could that be? He rose to answer it; he wasn’t sleeping anyway.

  Steve stood outside his door. “Did I wake you?”

  Normally he’d say yes. He rubbed his hands over his face. “I couldn’t sleep. You want to come in?”

  Steve came in and sat on his couch. “Can you tell me what’s under the iceberg we can see?”

  Huh?

  Fourteen

  Aimee stepped off the ferry. It felt good to be back. She filled her lungs with the Mackinac air and regretted it. She had forgotten about the pungent horse aroma that had become dominant after the lilacs faded.

  She approached a young woman holding a piece of paper with her name on it. “I’m Aimee Mikkelson.”

  The girl smiled. “The hotel has sent a private carriage. I’ll grab your luggage.”

  Wow. That was really nice of them. Was Dillon behind it? She pointed out her two suitcases, and the girl carried them.

  As they approached a carriage, Jovan stepped down out of it. “Sunshine.”

  Her shoulders slumped. If anyone was going to meet her, why did it have to be Jovan?

  “Welcome back.” He stopped in front of her.

  She tried not to sigh audibly. “Hello.”

  The girl secured her suitcases to the back of the carriage.

  How rude would it be to remove her suitcases from his carriage and put them on the Grand Hotel coach? He had gone to the trouble of getting a carriage and had waited for who knows how long for her. And since Dillon didn’t bother to meet her—although it wasn’t as if she’d told him what ferry she’d be on—why not ride with Jove? “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I arrived the day before yesterday and was disappointed that you weren’t here anymore. I inquired when you’d return and waited.”

  “How long did you wait for me?”

  He shrugged. “Not too long.” He gave her a hand up and, once aboard, snapped the reins to get the horses in motion. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  That didn’t take him long. “I can’t. I’m going to be occupied with wedding stuff until it’s over.”

  He gave her a nod but looked disappointed.

  At the hotel, her suitcases were taken off, but before she could step down, Jove took her hand. “Go for a ride with me before you get busy?”

  It was best to keep her distance from him. “Thank you for the offer, but I really can’t.”

  He released her hand. “If you find you have extra time, look me up.”

  Not going to happen. If she did find herself with extra time, it wouldn’t be Jove she’d go looking for.

  ❧

&
nbsp; Dillon watched Aimee ride off with Jovan. He climbed into the carriage he’d borrowed from the hotel and drove back to the stable, then went to his office. He couldn’t compete with Jovan. Jovan looked and acted the part of a movie star, and all the women treated him like one. Did Aimee find that appealing? He put his head in his hands. Lord, what am I supposed to do?

  He startled at a knock on his door and looked up. Aimee!

  “Hey, boss. I’m back.”

  His mouth pulled into a smile, and he stood. She’d come to see him and called him boss. Maybe she’d stay. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  She gazed at the vase of pink carnations on her table-desk and sighed. “Are these for me?”

  She liked carnations, didn’t she? Steve said so. So why did she look disappointed? “I hope you like them.”

  Her eyes widened. “They’re from you?” She cupped the blooms in her hands and put her face to the flowers. She closed her eyes and drank in their fragrance. “I love the smell of carnations.”

  That was a relief. “I’m glad you like them.” He came around his desk and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  She gave him a hug. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  He would do it a hundred times over to see her smile always like that. “Tell me about your grandma. How did she like the treasure?”

  “She loved it. I don’t think the treasure could have been any better for her. I also gave her the locket. She loves wearing it.”

  “So your time here was all worth it?”

  “Every minute of it. I’m sorry I was such a bother to you.”

  “You were no bother.” He nodded toward her chair. “I missed having you there.”

  “I missed being here. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” He crossed his arms. “Steve knocked on my door in the middle of the night asking about icebergs. What did you say to him?”

  “So, what he and I talked about opened a door for you and him to talk? That’s great. Is he any closer to accepting the Lord?”

  “We talked for hours, and then he prayed. He’s one of us now—a believer. I have been praying for him since the day I met him. This means a lot to me. Thank you.” He stepped forward and hugged her.

  “That’s it! I just love it when the Lord shows me an answer to prayer.” She whirled around and sat in her chair. “You remember before I told you why I’d really come? The whole Grandpa Wright stuff?” She waved a hand in the air and animated her explanation. “You were being so nice to me. I wanted to do something nice back. I asked God to show me something I could do for you. This is how God answered that prayer. Steve.” Her smile broadened. “God is so awesome.”

  He was indeed. And if the Lord was willing, Dillon would see to it that Aimee remained in his life, somehow, someway.

  ❧

  Later that evening, Dillon sat across from Aimee at a table in the main dining room. Aimee wore a filmy black dress with wispy ruffles from the top down to her knees. The repeated rows of filmy waves reminded him of a flapper dress from the twenties. She looked great in it. He liked that she wore modest, below-the-knee dresses.

  They’d had a pleasant meal, and Aimee seemed to be enjoying herself with him. Now was the time to ask her. He took a deep breath. “Will you watch the sunset with me?”

  “So, while I was gone, you finally did it?”

  He shook his head. “This will be the first time.”

  She sucked in a breath. “That is something between you and your mom.”

  “I want you there. I don’t want to do this alone.” He had tried alone. . .and failed.

  She felt honored that he would want to share this moment with her. “Are you sure about this?”

  He held out a hand to her and nodded. “If you’ll go with me.” He wanted desperately to share this personal moment with her.

  She took his hand. “Of course.”

  He walked her out and west down the porch. He gripped her hand tighter as they approached the end of the porch. His lungs tightened, but he forced oxygen into them.

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “Your mom would be so proud of you.”

  He loosened his hold on her hand but still held it firmly. “Thanks.”

  Pink, orange, and purple clouds were strewn across the sky, silhouetting Mackinac Bridge. Sunset was not always so colorful, he’d heard, but tonight was spectacular. He had finally done it. They stood in silence for nearly an hour watching the colors change and fade as the sunlight disappeared from the horizon.

  Aimee turned to him. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  “No, thank you for being here for me. I don’t think I could have done this without you. I can finally let her go.” He waved a hand back toward the hotel. “And all of this, too.”

  “You’re going to give up your job at the hotel?”

  He took a deep breath. “If that’s what God wants. I want to be where He wants me to be.” For the first time in his life, he wanted God to be integral in all his plans.

  ❧

  Aimee knocked on the door of the modest house in Harrisonville on the interior of the island.

  A boy, a foot or so shorter than Aimee, answered the door. He wore a hockey mask and Rollerblades and carried a hockey stick. At least, she thought it was a boy.

  “Is Susan here?”

  The masked munchkin turned his head and yelled, “Mom, someone’s at the door.” He walked out onto the porch, rolled to the steps, and walked down them.

  Aimee moved aside as two more miniature hockey players burst out the door and down the steps.

  A chunky woman around forty came to the door. She held up a finger for Aimee to wait and walked to the edge of the porch. “Carl, I’m not your mom.”

  The first boy turned back and pointed his hockey stick at Aimee. “She doesn’t know that.”

  The woman shook her head. “Brian, be home by five.” The woman turned to her. “Sorry about that. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you Susan Cox? Formerly Susan Johnson?”

  “That’s me.”

  Aimee breathed a sigh of relief. She’d found the right place. “I work at the hotel with your father. Well, I don’t exactly work with him, but we both work there. He is the sweetest man.”

  Susan smiled. “Dad’s a charmer, that’s for sure. He’s told me about you. You’re the ‘cute little thing with an angel smile.’ He’s really taken with you, especially since you convinced Constance to marry him. Would you like to come in and have a glass of iced tea?” When she accepted, Susan poured the tea and led her out to the back porch.

  A little girl was playing in the yard. She called to Susan, “Watch, Mommy, watch,” then began to climb the short orange ladder of the plastic yellow slide.

  “I’m watching.” She kept one eye on the girl as she spoke to Aimee. “That’s Lucy.”

  “So do you just have the two children?”

  “I have five, ranging from five-year-old Lucy up to a twenty-year-old who just got engaged. My three older kids work the summer season here on the island, so I don’t see them much. And then there is Carl, who spends most of his time over here. He jokes that I won’t notice one more child and calls me Mom in the melee.”

  “It must be nice to have such a close family.”

  “It is, but some days, I’d like to take a vacation from them all. But where do you go when you live on a premier resort island and most of your family works the summer season and the kids have school the rest of the year?” She took a sip of tea. “So what brought you out this far from the cacophony of tourists?”

  “I wanted to ask you a question about your sister.”

  “Cookie?”

  “Is she going to make it for the wedding?”

  “Oh, she is blustering a lot about the inconvenience, but she wouldn’t miss it.”

  “How does she feel about your dad marrying Constance?”

  “It depends on what day you talk to her. Her biggest argument is t
hat she doesn’t see a need for Dad to marry again at his age. What’s the point? I think if it makes Dad happy for even two minutes, then he should go for it. I just never would have picked Constance Mayhew as a perfect match for him.”

  “Why not? They make a lovely couple.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I like Constance. I’m glad she finally said yes. She’s just a little more tightly wound than Dad is. She keeps him on his toes though, and he likes to tease her. I don’t think she always appreciates his teasing, however. Can you just picture my little hockey player in her perfect house? It’ll likely happen after they are married, but it will stress the poor woman out to no end. I’m sure she likes kids and all. She just never had any of her own. No experience.”

  “So you don’t know how Cookie’s going to react to the wedding?”

  “Sometimes she is as cranky as all get-out, and other times she’s just take-charge-Cookie, who can make things happen. The wedding could be hard for her because she has no control over it.”

  “But it’s not her wedding.”

  “But she’s Cookie.”

  So Cookie could go either way. Aimee remembered her older sister having fits to get her own way. Now, to see her so withdrawn. . . Was it another way of controlling?

  ❧

  Gary, Henry’s middle child and only boy, had come over from the mainland the day before the wedding with his wife and two kids and was staying at Henry’s place. Cookie had booked a room at the hotel but still hadn’t shown up. Aimee was staying with Constance until the wedding; then she would take a room at the hotel, which Dillon had reserved for her at Henry’s request. Originally Henry had offered to let her stay at his place but had forgotten his son’s family would be there. After the wedding, Aimee would likely leave the island for good. How could she go back to work with Dillon, day after day, and fall more in love with him, when he only saw her as a good assistant?

  Constance stood in the bathroom fussing with her hair. Sammy sat on the toilet, watching every move she made. The phone rang. “Can you get that for me, dear?”

  She answered it.

  “Aimee?”

  “Hi, Dillon.”

  “I just wanted to let Constance know that Henry’s other daughter finally arrived. She just checked in.”