With a disappointed push of her lips, he watched her sensibilities soften. “Just a sec.” She fanned through some papers and then handed over a voucher, pointing him toward double glass doors that read “Grill Room.”
“For your troubles. Sorry we couldn’t hold your room.”
Nick thanked her, hesitating by Sal. “Want a burger, buddy?”
The man looked up, pushed his newspaper aside, and smiled. “You bet. I’ll get us a table.”
Just then, the lobby doors whooshed open.
A disheveled blonde, dressed similarly to Stacy, entered with a travel bag hooked over her shoulder. While Sal hoofed it toward the sizzling aromas of grilled meat and sweet potato fries, Nick paused to watch Taylor Swift’s lookalike beeline to the desk. The girl from the hospital? No way he could be so lucky.
By her confident strides and the way she leaned in with a low voice, he guessed she was the boss.
“I bet she remembered to call,” Nick muttered, eyeing the two women at the reservation desk. He strode closer.
The blonde ducked a glance his direction and smiled. It was her. Natalie, from the hospice ward.
Her mouth lifted into a smile of recognition. “Couldn’t get a room?”
“Nah.” He wagged the comp meal ticket, a sorry substitute for the room service he’d planned. “My consolation prize.”
She admired the freebie, seemingly waiting for him to say something. His mentor’s voice filled his head: You’re here. She’s here. And coincidence is just God showing up.
Did he dare invite her to sit, have a bite? After the fiasco with the reservations girl, Nick found himself on unsure ground. Still, Natalie lingered.
“Restaurant’s got great reviews.” She glanced toward the breezeway. “Excellent burgers.”
“I knew I liked you.” At her widening gaze, he backpedaled. “Er, I mean, it looks like me and my new buddy are grabbing dinner together. Unless … do you eat?”
She snorted a laugh before smiling sweetly. “I try to. Two or three times a day.”
“I’m a snacker myself,” he admitted while his inner voice screamed, Quit while you’re ahead, Nicky! “Um, but if you’re hungry now?”
“Sure. Save me a seat?” She returned to check-in, on a mission. “And order me some sweet potato fries?”
“You bet.” He picked up his duffle bag and left Natalie to whatever tricks she had up her sleeve. “Hope you have better luck than I did.”
Nick followed the Grill Room signs. He’d been lost in work for a while, in making something of himself. He’d barely dated in the past year, but for the last few hours Natalie and her smattering of freckles were all he could think about.
He wondered how she was faring with the receptionist. If she got a room, would she offer him her couch? A spare bed? How easy it would be to slip back into old habits. He hadn’t been tempted by Stacy, but the green-eyed blonde? He exhaled, praying for restraint.
So much for being washed white as snow. Nick felt more like that old shirt with the wine stain on the collar that just wouldn’t come out no matter how much he scrubbed.
Sal waved at Nick from a pub table heaped with platters of potato skins and buffalo wings. Soccer highlights played on several television screens.
“You want a beer?”
Nick paused, thought better of it, and ordered a Coke. “Not a beer man these days.” He spied the doorway, wondering if she was really coming in.
Thoughts heavy with Phil, he cooled his tear-hot throat with the soda the waitress dropped off. He’d sworn he wouldn’t cry for that man, once upon a time. Now he was ready to lie down and bawl like a baby. The cancer was everywhere, and Phil had weeks, not months, this time.
Sal spoke around a bite of potato skin. “Triage Vineyard, huh?”
Nick glanced down at the logo on his pocket. “Yeah.”
He had been in meetings for a week solid—arguing with the owners, again, about their choices for next year’s planting. The idiots were wrecking the fallow lavender fields he’d planned, more interested in profit than prolonging their harvest.
That was, what? Thirteen hours ago when he’d gotten the call about Philip? At the threat of being fired, he’d saved them the trouble and quit. He’d handed over his keys and flown down the highway. Three new speeding tickets in his glove box were proof of his record time. Nick drained the glass until ice rattled against his teeth.
Natalie walked in looking vaguely triumphant. Smug. But the dark hollows under her eyes showed stress. She was overworked, he guessed, and of course there were the troubles she’d left behind at the hospital.
“Here you go.” She held a room key out to each of them.
“How did you—” Sal stared at the key like it was the Holy Grail.
“Yeah, how did you?” Nick smirked and rolled the keycard in his palm. “I thought Stacy had it in for me.”
“She did.” Natalie’s arched eyebrows showed she’d learned a little more about him than she let on. “I moved a block of reservations from here to our San Diego sister hotel last week. Better view for the bigwigs. She was still hanging on to the rooms, but I knew they should be open.”
Sal kissed her hand and said something in rolling Spanish. Her laugh was easy as birds taking flight.
Uh-oh.
Nick shook himself back to the present as Sal proffered the menu into Natalie’s hands. “Get whatever you want. It’s on the house.”
Natalie ordered a meal along with a double order of fries. Turning back to the guys, Natalie shot a smile. “Comfort food.”
He nodded and held her gaze. Her eyes were twin emeralds, rimmed with gold and warm understanding. “Right there with you.”
She squeezed lime into her mineral water and clinked glasses with him. They sipped at their drinks and nibbled fries and juicy burgers while Sal talked. It was nice, for an hour at least, to feel normal, to feel like the weight of the world wasn’t resting on either of their shoulders.
Chapter 4
Natalie was curled on the balcony chaise in a blanket when she heard the screech of a sliding patio door. The soft strains of SportsCenter floated out from the room two doors down.
Nick stepped out into the shadows, gripped the railing, and ducked his head into knit hands.
Was he praying?
Natalie swallowed a greeting and watched him, his lean body wracked in sobs.
Guilt stabbed at witnessing such a private moment. Natalie leaned back into the chaise and waited for the storm of his emotions to pass.
Unable to sleep, she’d found her way outside to the balcony chair as the midnight hour passed. The aromas of pine and the freshly watered putting green comforted her somehow. The golf course below lay washed in silver light, the midnight sky filtered from view by wisps of fog, reaching like the Creator’s hand.
Her thoughts churned into a froth of confusion. What would come tomorrow? What would the lawyer say? Should she even go to the meeting? Her preoccupation with her decisions seemed callous and cruel when comparing it to a man obviously agonized by the impending loss of his friend.
“How long have you been out here?” Nick’s resonant voice drew her back and warmed her ears.
“Only just—” She swallowed the lie and pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Just about an hour. Can’t sleep.”
He nodded and glanced over his shoulder as the television broadcasters cued up their next story. “Me either. It’s a great room though. Thanks for helping us out.”
“Of course. She shouldn’t have treated you the way she did. This is the hospitality industry—all guests should be treated with respect.” She sighed. The tantalizing dream of owning her own hotel dangled so far out of reach. “You just have to be creative, sometimes. Think outside the box.”
“Well, you did something right.” He saluted her and Natalie laughed.
“It wasn’t hard. I just mentioned there might be an opening down at The Grand for a reservations attendant who excelled in customer service, and voi
la.”
Silence welled between them. Good thing Nick wasn’t in easy reach. She imagined his arms wrapped around her, that generous mouth waiting for her kiss.
She shook the fantasy out of her head. Still, he wasn’t wearing a ring—she’d checked at dinner. Maybe he had a fiancée? A lifelong girlfriend? Since there was no good way to ask, she said nothing.
“How long are you staying?” he asked, elbows resting on the rail.
“It’s compli—”
“Complicated. You said that before.” He knit his fingers again, waiting.
Unlike her sister and brother, Natalie didn’t talk about her adoptive history much. It was hers. Private. Not a subject for casual conversation. But silver moonlight painted Nick’s eyes with sadness, telling her he just needed a story. Any story. With a deep exhale, Natalie ventured into rare waters.
“Mrs. Valence is my biological grandmother. Before today, I’d never met her, or my bio-mom, for that matter.” Natalie shrugged her shoulders and pulled her robe tighter around her against the chill. “My parents adopted me just after I was born. I don’t have any memory of a family except the one I grew up with. Now there are papers to sign, things I’m apparently responsible for ...”
Her heart thrilled at the unknowns. She would have opportunities to look into her family history, and maybe, there would even be an inheritance.
Hypocrite, she thought. Before today, she’d always claimed she had no interest in her birth family. Now she was curious about where she came from and even hoping there might be some money.
“All this for a lady you don’t know?” Nick whistled. “She’s lucky.”
“When the lawyer called, it felt like something I had to do. I didn’t know what I was getting into, but now I have to say that I’m curious. It seems wrong, though. To be excited about—well, anything.” Natalie gripped the rail and stared heavenward. “She’s dying.”
“Yeah, but she found you.” Nick’s words hung in the growing moonlight. “That’s gotta mean something.”
“I guess.” The stars poked through the canvas of night as she turned back to the rail. “I can’t help thinking about what I’d do if she left me money. If money’s the root of evil, then—”
“I might not’ve grown up in the church, but I’m pretty sure the Bible says it’s the love of money that’s the root of evil. Not the money itself. You can look it up, thanks to the Gideons.” He gestured to the nightstand in his room.
She glanced into her room as if she could see the Bible in her nightstand. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“People can find all sorts of wrong answers in the Bible when they read it out of context. That’s what Philip always says, anyway.”
“Philip. Your friend, at the hospital?”
Nick nodded, face washed in shadow. “He taught me about myself, about salvation. I never went to Sunday school.” He cleared his throat and started again. “So, think about what you love. If there’s money, then do some good with it. Something that’ll make Mrs. Valence proud. She cared enough to find you and bring you here, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
They fell into an easy silence, each watching the slow dance of the stars above, each attuned to their own thoughts. At last, Natalie yawned. “Guess it’s past my bedtime.”
“Mine too. Think about it. And get some sleep.”
He went back inside and Natalie lingered in the press of darkness. The cool, curling ocean mist hugged the moon and obscured the few peeping summer stars.
Who was this guy? A newbie Christian with a clearer image on things than she’d had since high school? A night bird’s solemn call, lonely from the trees, was the only answer.
With a deep sigh, Natalie returned inside, sat cross-legged on her bed, and flipped pages to 1 Timothy 6 to see what else she’d missed.
Sleep was a fickle friend.
Woken from yet another nightmarish dream, Natalie flipped on the lamp and pulled her locket around to dangle loose from her neck. The digital clock read four thirty. The sky purpled with a pre-dawn glow on the longest night in her history.
She wanted to pray. Needed to pray. But for what? What would the lawyer be able to tell her? Information about her biological family?
Mom always shared what she knew, retold the stories of how God made them a family—each child a miracle. Aside from knowing her bio-mom’s name was Amanda, there was nothing else. No lavender ribbon-tied letters like Corie had. No annual picnic with the birth family, like Aaron attended.
Mom tried to hide the flash of hurt when Aaron came back with stories of his bio-parents, or when Corie mused over the stack of letters from her birth mother, but Natalie saw it. She swore she’d never cause her mom that sadness, would never look for information about the woman who dropped her newborn baby off at a fire station.
But now that she’d seen Mrs. Valence’s face … The questions uncoiled and stretched like growing vines. The Bible was open to her favorite verse, but somehow the notion that all people were adopted into the kingdom of God failed to bring peace today.
Everyone came from somewhere. Even me. Guilt wove its oily strands in her gut.
Natalie closed the leather-bound volume, set it in the drawer, and slid it shut.
She snapped open her locket and pondered the three miniature pictures inside. Mom and Dad on their wedding day. Another of Grandma Marie as a bride, looking oh-so-sixties in her pillbox hat and veil as she brushed rice off Granddad’s shoulder. But it was the middle picture of her brother and sister at her college graduation that she focused on now. Their goofy faces … They looked ready to conquer the world.
A lot of good that degree in hotel and restaurant management was doing her. She was a glorified reservationist at The Grand, and ten other drones were waiting to take her job should she be late, get sick, or heaven forbid, take a day off.
Like today.
Her mother’s gentle words of wisdom found her heart: When in doubt, pray for God’s plan. It’s always perfect, even if it might not seem so at the time.
Heart stirring with warmth, comfort settled her spirit. She prayed that would be enough.
He stood in shadow, all attention focused on the curtains’ glow. The girl was restless. Did she sense him? Perhaps angels didn’t need sleep.
He clutched the knife handle until his fingers went numb. She must be an angel. How else could Amanda’s face have returned to haunt him?
Her glass door slid open. She leaned against the rail, face painted with sorrow and questions. Natalie. Not Amanda. Her nametag said Natalie. Natalie from San Diego and the Grand Hotel.
Even a simpleton could have guessed she would end up at the Grand’s ugly stepsister property. People always went to the familiar.
Perhaps it was the moonlight, the way it cascaded over her loose, curling hair. Perhaps it was her mannerisms, the way she tilted back her head to stare at the white orb hanging in the eastern sky.
He wondered if she’d have the same look in her eyes when the life left her body.
Amanda had gone limp in his arms, hollow and empty as a soulless china doll. It had been the best and worst moment of his pathetic life.
A curl of hope bloomed within him.
But what if she had come back? Had been reborn in life, as in death?
He shook the ridiculous notion of Amanda’s rebirth from his mind.
He’d buried Amanda beneath the angel trumpet tree by the water’s edge. The sweet bell flowers called upon heaven every spring and summer with sweet, honey nectar. The butterflies and hummingbirds loved her. And each day, he tended it, treasured it, even when it stood barren in winter, waiting for the warmth of spring. But this year, the blooms were scarce.
Are you sure her body is still there? His mind fluttered with the dark question. He wasn’t sure of anything. Not anymore.
Whoever this Natalie was, he would take her, as he had Amanda. He would make the tea once again. They would drink it together this time. If he held her tight, per
haps she’d take him to heaven with her.
Heaven is not for you. Hope evaporated out of reach, and a dark, icy weight settled in its place.
He was leafless, lifeless, frost-scarred, and black. At best, he could stand at the gates of hell and watch as she crossed into paradise.
And that would have to be enough.
Tilting the knife into a reflective mirror, his gaze glinted through the darkness. Here, there was truth. No poisons, no potions. No traps or tricks for this woman.
This was not Amanda. This was just an impostor here to steal his attention away from the ultimate prize. He would plant a seed of fear in her, and he would tend it, water it, and make it grow into fully blooming terror.
She would feed his withering spirit and then he would cut her down.
With a crunch of steps across the gravel path, he found his target and did his work with slashing precision. In the morning, he would savor her fear as wine in a crystal goblet, and he’d be waiting, watching, until the time to harvest came.
Chapter 5
Natalie stared at the empty space where the spare tire should be. How could a person have four flat tires and no spare?
“Dad was right. You are just junk for the scrap pile.” Her swift kick at the fender rocketed pain all the way from her toe to her calf. Hopping in her sandals, she sat on the bumper and pulled her colorful skirt back to review her injured toe.
Birds called a cheerful symphony completely at odds with her temper. She pressed her hands over her face and took a deep breath.
What did Dad say to do when everything goes wrong with the car? Call AAA.
Sifting through her overnight bag, toiletries, and yesterday’s clothes, she finally found her phone. She pressed the home button, but it remained a lifeless lump. She hadn’t charged it.
Natalie slammed the trunk shut, grabbed her purse, and marched inside the hotel.
Scents of baking breads and coffee wafted from the continental breakfast bar. The new shift was up; a chipper, clean-cut boy smiled between bites of his bagel. “Welcome to The Creekside.”
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