by Cara Summers
“Why don’t you put them in my room?”
Avery turned with her to stare at Jack Ryan.
“It’s a suite, two bedrooms. Have a maid clear out my stuff.” Taking one hand off the computer, he pulled a key from his back pocket and placed it on the counter.
Jillian stared at him. He hadn’t so much as glanced at them, and his fingers…they were a blur on the keyboard. They hadn’t been anywhere near that fast when they’d touched her. It was more than a tremor of heat she felt this time. Her insides turned to liquid.
And Colonel Jenkins and son were waiting for her.
She whirled back to Avery. “I’m joining the colonel and Matthew in the courtyard. I’ve explained the glitch, and I’ll give them a tour. Find me when the room is ready.”
Jillian pressed a hand against her heart as she threaded her way through the lobby to the courtyard. It was still racing—and all because she’d been in the proximity of this…Jack Ryan. He hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t acknowledged her presence in any way. And she definitely hadn’t interfered with his concentration in the same way he was interfering with hers.
Annoyance flickered through her. But that wasn’t all she was feeling. The man had given up his room. Did that mean he was leaving? That he’d not only decided to move on but out, as well?
And that wasn’t what she should be thinking about at all.
Stepping through the archway, she focused her attention on Colonel Jenkins and his son. They had the reputation of running a very smooth operation. Their hotels had been highly recommended in several well-respected travel publications. They couldn’t be impressed with the current chaos in her lobby.
Focus on the positive, Jillian. She saw Larry had seated them at a table in the shade, and there was a pot of coffee on the table. Not just a tip, she thought. Larry deserved a raise. She stopped to personally thank him before continuing on to the table. Both men stood as she approached.
“I’ve got your room assignment. I’ll be notified as soon as it’s ready for you. It shouldn’t be long. If you like, we could wait here. It’s one of the most pleasant spots in the hotel.”
Matthew glanced at his watch. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with what brought us here. We want to see what you’ve done with Haworth House.”
Colonel Jenkins smiled. “My son is always focused on business.”
“I can’t object to that.” Nerves jittering, Jillian led the way back into the hotel, revising her plan as they went. She was good at improvising, she told herself. “We’ll come back to the lobby once it’s less crowded,” she explained as they skirted the area. Then she led the way through a carved door and down a short window-lined hallway. “We’ll begin with some of the rooms that we offer for large and small meetings. This first one is the library.”
She opened the door and gestured the men inside. Only the wall in front of them was lined with bookshelves. Wood paneling lined the one behind them and framed the large fireplace to the right and the tall stained-glass windows to their left.
Matthew ran his hand along one of the panels. “These are hand carved. Are they the original?”
“Most of them. There’s a local craftsman who spent a great deal of time on the repair work, and the wall along the fireplace had to be almost completely replaced.”
“Amazing,” Matthew said. “You’re lucky someone didn’t paint them with some kind of enamel.”
“Not so lucky,” Jillian said. “The paneling we could save had to be stripped down and stained.”
Colonel Jenkins had crossed directly to the fireplace. “This is lovely. It reminds me of something.”
“Italian marble.” Matthew ran a hand along the mantel. Then he took a notebook out of his pocket and jotted something down. “It’s in mint condition.”
Turning, he scanned the room. “How much of the furniture was here when you purchased the place?”
“Roughly half of it. The conference table is new.”
He moved through the room, touching a settee, pausing to study a lamp. Finally, he turned back to her. “You’ve done a fine job of mixing in the pieces you gathered with what was here.”
“Thank you.” There was a sincerity in his tone that had some of her nerves settling.
“What’s next?” Matthew asked.
“This way.” As she led the way through a series of smaller meeting rooms that could also double as private dining rooms, she noted that the men didn’t linger in any. And Matthew asked fewer and fewer questions even though he frequently paused to jot something in his notebook.
In a small sunny room that looked out on the gardens, he asked, “The carved ceiling—it’s the original?”
“Yes. Of course, there were parts that had to be restored. The real estate agent told me that some of the owners hadn’t had the resources to keep up with maintenance and repairs.”
“Always a problem in these older structures,” the colonel said as they exited the room.
“Did your real estate person also mention that each of the previous owners had failed at the businesses they’d attempted to launch here?” Matthew asked.
Jillian paused at a set of double doors to face him. “No, she didn’t mention that. How did you know?”
“Research,” the colonel said. “When a property interests us, we make a point of discovering everything we can.”
“You’re interested in this property?” Jillian asked.
“We’re always interested,” the colonel said. “That’s what we do. I hadn’t thought about this place in years until you received all that publicity a month ago.”
“Three previous owners failed to make a go of it here,” Matthew said. “The Bensons attempted a boarding school for young men. It closed in its second year. The Lansings opened a nursing home. They kept it going for seven years. The University of Maine purchased it for a song with plans to use it as a faculty retreat house and perhaps even launch a satellite campus here. When their fundraising attempts failed, an alumnus finally took it off their hands and used it for a time as a summer home. This is Haworth House’s first launch as a hotel. But it does seem to have some bad karma. The problem you’re having at the main desk could be part of that.”
Jillian lifted her chin. “Or not. The hotel has been doing very well. And karma has been known to shift.” She opened the double doors and led the way into the room that was her favorite in the hotel. “Gentlemen, this is Hattie Haworth’s ballroom.”
It was the size of half a football field. And in her opinion, it outshone even the restored tower room. Sunshine gleamed on chestnut-colored parquet floors as French doors offered a view of the gardens that was reflected in the mirrored inner walls.
Colonel Jenkins walked directly across the width of the room to the French doors while Matthew strolled down its length.
“A ballroom?” Matthew said. “According to my research, Hattie Haworth was a recluse. In the time she lived here, she never threw lavish parties. In fact, she was never known to have visitors.”
“You know a lot about Hattie,” Jillian commented.
“Hmm. The colors—you chose them?” he asked.
Jillian swept her eyes over the cream-colored walls and the darker cream color on the chair rails. “Yes. I tried very hard to match what was here.”
“Beautiful.” Having reached the far end of the room, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You’ve done a marvelous job of preserving what was here.”
“It would have been a crime to destroy it.”
“I agree.” Matthew ran a hand over the intricately carved edge of a large cabinet. “French Baroque?”
“Yes.”
He moved to one of the chairs flanking the cabinet and squatted down. “And this is a Chippendale.”
It wasn’t a question, Jillian noted. “You know your antiques.”
When he stood and turned to face her, the frown had completely disappeared from his face, and there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “It’s a hobby of mine
, one that our string of hotels allows me to indulge. I love the travel, the challenge of tracking the right piece.”
“You’ve personally found furniture for your hotels?” Jillian asked.
“I’ve done most of the design work, too. That’s why I can appreciate what you’ve done here.”
It was Jillian’s turn to frown. “But if you’re handling all the design and antique gathering yourself, why are you thinking of acquiring my services?”
He smiled easily at her. “Dad is toying with the idea of retiring a few years down the road and he’s encouraged me to bring someone on board. I won’t always have the time to pursue my little hobby.”
Jillian managed to clamp her lips together. Little hobby? She didn’t think of what she did as either little or a hobby. And what exactly did bringing someone on board mean? She was phrasing a question when the colonel asked, “What is that tall hedge at the side of the garden?”
“It’s a maze,” Jillian said as they joined him at the French doors.
“I have the strangest feeling that I’ve seen it before—that I’ve stood here in this room before.”
“Maybe you have.” Jillian recalled what Miss Emmy Lou had said. “You were born on the island, right?”
“Yes.”
Matthew placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “How is it possible that you stood in this room? You were barely five when grandmother took you away from here.” He turned to Jillian. “This is his first trip back since he left nearly fifty-five years ago.”
The colonel frowned. “I remember the tower. I’ve always carried a picture of Haworth House around in my head—the stone-gray tower piercing the sky. I just haven’t thought of it in years. As a child, I imagined this place as a castle where a princess lived. And she needed a knight to rescue her. But I don’t recall ever thinking about the maze. Can we go out and take a closer look?”
“Dad, we don’t have—”
The colonel raised a hand to cut his son off. “Can we go closer, Jillian?”
“Of course.” Opening the door, she led the way across the patio and down a flagstone path to the opening of the maze.
The colonel stopped short at the entrance.
Jillian shifted her gaze to his face. Had he grown paler, or was it just her imagination?
“The feeling is stronger here and it’s beginning to be unpleasant,” he said. “I’ve only heard of déjà vu, but I think this must be it. I’ve been here before.”
“Do you want to go in?” Jillian asked.
“No,” the colonel said. “I— This is far enough.” For a moment, he continued to stare into the maze, then he turned abruptly to Jillian. “Matthew is right. We really don’t have the time. We have to be on our way.”
Jillian stared at the man. “On your way? Your room isn’t even ready yet. I haven’t shown you any of the guest rooms or the dining room. Surely you want to see the tower.”
He took her hands in his, much the same way he had when they’d arrived. “It won’t be necessary. Matthew and I talked about this when we were waiting for you to deal with the room situation. We’ve come on a bad day. Obviously, there’s a problem here that deserves your full attention.”
“It’s being handled,” she said.
“Something similar happened to us in one of our places near Atlanta. The software crashed, and it took days to recover and reload data. You need to give that your full attention. It took us months to recoup financially. Besides, I can tell that Matthew is already very impressed with Haworth House. He doesn’t bother with notes when he’s bored. And it doesn’t take us long to reach a decision. I’m sure we can come to terms. We’re prepared to make you a very generous offer for the place—twice what you’ve put into Haworth House. Not everyone can double their investment in one year.”
“You’re joking,” Jillian said. But something in the colonel’s eyes told her he wasn’t. She felt the first stir of anger.
“We never joke about business,” Matthew said.
She narrowed her eyes as she slipped her hands free of the colonel’s. “You said you were interested in acquiring my design services.”
“And we’re willing to discuss that as part of the entire package once you get your sisters to agree to the sale,” Matthew said. “I really am looking for someone to help me out, and you have talent. I can see that. In the meantime, our offer to buy Haworth House is on the table.”
His smile was so bright, his voice so, so…confident that Jillian wanted badly to punch him. Instead, she tried to emulate both his tone and his smile. “I’m not accepting it.”
Colonel Jenkins reached for her hands again, but she whipped them behind her back. “My dear, we didn’t expect you to…not today. We just wanted to plant the seed. Of course, you need time to think about it. Weigh the benefits. We’ll be in touch.”
“You won’t get a better offer,” Matthew added.
Then they turned in unison and walked back toward the hotel. Behind her back, Jillian fisted her hands and tried counting to ten. It had never been a foolproof technique for her. And she was spitting mad. Shouting something rude at them wasn’t going to solve anything. She knew that. It was much better to ignore them. Let them go.
But why couldn’t they walk faster?
She made it to five and raised her hand to make a rude gesture. But what would be the sense in doing that if she didn’t yell something to get their attention so they could see it?
“If you feel like punching someone, I’ll volunteer.”
9
SHE WHIRLED TO SEE her stranger. Jack Ryan, she reminded herself. Jack Ryan. “You.”
“Me. And the offer still stands. I go to the gym and use a punching bag when I get angry. They’re a couple of real jerks.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Just distract me until they’re inside. I want to yell something rude at them. And that would be childish.”
“I can understand the impulse. But the effort would be wasted. They’re not very good listeners.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you know that because?”
“Your manager sent me to find you about twenty minutes ago to let you know their rooms were ready. Their own rooms. They don’t have to move into mine after all. But I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She tilted her head to study him more closely. “So you eavesdropped instead.”
“They’re inside, by the way.”
She took a step toward him. “I’m more interested in you right now. Why did Avery send you? Aren’t you supposed to be fixing the glitch in the software system?”
“Avery sent me because you have my key, and the crisis is well on the way to being over. The lobby is practically cleared. The guests have returned to happy-camper mode and are either out in the courtyard having brunch or they’re heading down to the beach. Not a bad idea since it’s already in the low nineties.”
“What was wrong?”
Ian debated a moment. It was just like her to zero in on the important question. He’d given Avery his professional opinion—someone had hacked into the hotel’s reservation system and shut it down. The question was whether or not to tell Jillian. He decided to give her the vague version. “The system shut down. I was able to get it started again.”
“Jenkins and son said a similar thing had happened to them and they predicted significant financial losses because of it.”
“Yeah, so I heard.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “And just how much of our conversation did you overhear?”
Since he’d deflected her from the issue of someone sabotaging her hotel’s software system, he decided to go with the truth. “I reached the ballroom just in time to catch the history of all the previous owners who have failed to establish successful businesses here at Haworth House.” He’d found that piece of information interesting and intended to have Cody Marsh look into it further.
She closed her eyes, whirled to pace a few steps away, then walked back. “The whole thing was
a setup. Colonel Jenkins and his son never intended to offer me a consulting position.” She waved a hand. “All they wanted was to plant enough worries that I might convince my sisters to sell.”
Her voice was on the rise, Ian noticed. Not that he blamed her. It had been a setup, and a pretty insulting one at that. He was pretty sure her voice wasn’t carrying to the inner courtyard of the hotel, but just in case, he took her arm. “Why don’t we take a walk in the maze? It will offer some shade and you can continue your rant in a more private venue.”
“Rant? I haven’t even started.” She drew him through the entrance and took a right at the first fork in the path.
“They were here what? A little more than an hour?”
“That would be my estimate.” And luckily, it had taken him only a little less than that to locate and correct the problem with the software program. After that it was just a matter of recovering the data and starting the reload. When he’d left Avery, that had still been in progress.
“I’ll bet that was all the time they’d scheduled. That was why they chartered a helicopter. They didn’t want to be restrained by a ferry schedule. Did they think I would be that easily manipulated?”
As she spoke, she was leading the way deeper and deeper into the maze. Ian made quick mental notes on each turn she took.
“That was a rhetorical question.” She waved a hand as she took another right turn. “Because, of course, they did. They still think so. They believe they’ve given me an offer I won’t be able to resist—so they’re off to find a new hotel to gobble up.”
The question that interested Ian was why they might think Jillian and her sisters would be so easily persuaded. He’d listened long enough to decide that both men had huge egos, fed no doubt by the success of their business so far.
“They wouldn’t even stay long enough to let me show them the whole hotel—what I’ve done with the guest rooms or the tower. We seldom open the tower to the public, but they weren’t interested.”
Ian decided that was interesting also. “Perhaps they were afraid to visit the tower because of all the publicity about the ghost.”