by Ivy Sinclair
My heart sped up again. “Yes.”
He was quiet again as if he were considering his words. “It’s nice to meet new people. People who don’t think they know who you are, so they actually take the time to get to know you for real. It’s refreshing, and around here it’s rare.”
It was an unexpected and honest admission, and his words resonated with me to my core. I felt like I owed him an admission of my own. “People think they know me too. That’s kind of what this summer is supposed to be about for me. New people. New surroundings. Fresh start.”
He extended his hand to me. Confused, I put my hand into his. His hand was warm and the handshake confident.
“I’m Reed Black. I do general handywork for folks around town, including your aunt. I’ve lived in Bleckerville my entire life.”
I smiled shyly as I realized what he was doing. “I’m Kate Spivey. I’ve been banished to Bleckerville to help my aunt out for the summer and figure out what to do with the rest of my life once I finish college next year. Assuming the school lets me come back next year.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kate,” Reed said. He released my hand, and I instantly missed it. “I’d like it if we could be friends.”
Friends. Well, that wasn’t what I would have hoped for, but I appreciated that Reed was putting himself out there. It sounded like the guy could use a friend or two. With the exception of Millie, I had been in a bit of drought on that front myself.
“My first friend in Bleckerville,” I said, trying to sound excited about the prospect.
“Don’t worry,” Reed said. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I don’t hit on my friends, despite what other people might say.”
I shook my head, my heart dying a little bit. “Me either.”
We stood there staring at each other for several long moments. In the movies, that would be the part where we’d start to grab at either other in a passionate embrace and rip each other’s clothes off. Instead, Reed winked at me.
“I’d better get going. I’ve got an early morning too. Let me walk you back up to the house.”
A glance at my watch revealed that it was after midnight. I groaned as I picked up my book from where I left it on the bench. Reed and I walked in silence as we approached the patio. I started up the steps and then turned.
“How did you know I was down at the lake?”
Reed smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Second chapter of that book in your hands. Jackson meets Camilla for the first time down by the lake. Call it a hunch.”
I chuckled. “I’d better hurry up and finish this before I become too transparent.”
Reed ducked his head and took a step backwards. “Goodnight, Kate. I’ll see you around.”
I cast a quick glance over my shoulder as I made my way to the door. Reed disappeared into the shadows. He didn’t look back.
Day one in Bleckerville. I was stone cold sober and made my first friend. I whistled as I made my way up the staircase. I couldn’t wait to brag to Millie about how much I’d grown.
CHAPTER SIX
The next few days passed by in a blur. I didn’t have time to think about anything other than computer systems, schedules, and operating procedures. It was a far cry from the vision I had of loafing around the registration desk filing my nails all summer. I couldn’t even believe it, but my aunt and uncle put a detailed training manual together for every position at the Willoughby. As acting assistant manager, I was required to know all of them.
Aunt Patrice was kind the first day to let me start at eight. Every day after that, my day started with hers at six. I fell into bed sometime after ten, and even though my mind ached to know what happened next with Jackson and Camilla, I couldn’t even keep my eyes open long enough to read a page.
By Wednesday, I sprawled behind the registration desk staring up at the chandelier above my head. Thanks to Patrice, I knew that the chandelier was original to the house, purchased from a Bulgarian jeweler and brought over from Europe when the house was built in 1887. It had some crazy number of crystals in it, and it was housekeeping’s responsibility to lower it from its perch above the foyer twice a year to clean every single one of those crystals by hand. I also knew that according to the thorough housekeeping checklist, the last time it had been cleaned was the first week of January, which meant it was due for its semi-annual cleaning. I hoped to hell that I wasn’t going to get roped into that duty.
I heard footsteps on the stairs above my head and straightened just as a short, red-headed woman whipped around the bannister and arrived in front of the desk looking at me expectantly. I stood up and hoped that I didn’t look as if I had been sit sleeping. It was an art I perfected during the course of my college career. I ran through the names of the current guests in my mind. I knew there were three couples staying the week, but my mind went blank trying to recall their names even though I had shadowed Patrice during their check-ins.
“What can I help you with, Mrs…Connelly?” I asked.
“Neuman,” she corrected.
I winced while I glanced around to see if Patrice was anywhere in hearing range. “Sorry, Mrs. Neuman. How can I help you?”
“Our door is sticking,” she said primly.
“Which door?” I had no idea how to solve her problem, but I had a feeling that it was best for me to be as detailed as possible about it. I looked around for a piece of paper. I didn’t need the training manual to tell me that, by taking notes, it would make Mrs. Neuman feel like I was taking her issue seriously.
“The door leading to the bathroom,” Mrs. Neuman said. “It doesn’t close properly, and we’ve had a few incidents.” She rubbed her nose, and a flush rose in her cheeks.
I could only imagine what incidents she was referring to, and I covered my mouth so that she couldn’t see my smile. Apparently the Neumans weren’t interested in sharing everything with each other as part of their new marriage, and I thought that was hilarious. “We will get that looked at as soon as we can, Mrs. Neuman,” I said, jotting a nearly illegible note.
“Will that be today?”
“We’ll do our best.” I plastered on a fake smile.
“For what you charge for a nightly rate, I would expect so,” Mrs. Neuman said with an equally fake smile.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Neuman. We should be able to have that taken care of for you by dinnertime,” Patrice said, seeming to swoop in from out of nowhere. “Are you and Mr. Neuman taking the paddleboat out on the lake again this afternoon?”
“Yes, those antique shops on the north side of the lake are full of treasures, just like you said.” Mrs. Neuman’s attention now shifted to Patrice, and her prim visage was intact once again.
“Wonderful,” Patrice said. “If you stop by the dining room on your way out, Sam will make sure you have a picnic lunch to take with you.”
“Thank you, Patrice,” Mrs. Neuman said. “You do take such good care of us.” Her sidelong glance in my direction told me that her compliment of my aunt’s hospitality did not extend to me.
“She’s a winner,” I said under my breath as the woman made her way outside.
“That woman and her husband are paying four-hundred and fifty dollars a night for an exclusive experience of staying in the most famous bed and breakfast in North Carolina,” Patrice said. “Her patronage pays my mortgage and your salary. “
“Patronage? Who says stuff like that?” I rolled my eyes.
I could tell, by the way Patrice’s lips slid into a tight straight line, that my color commentary wasn’t appreciated, but I was too tired to care at the moment. If I didn’t get a break and find a little fun sometime soon, I thought for sure that I would wither and die.
Patrice pointed at a small handwritten list next to the computer. “Call Reed Black and tell him that we have a job for him. Standard hourly rate, but I’ll give him a bump if he can come out in the next three hours.”
My ears perked up at the mention of Reed’s name. Since he left me the night of my
arrival, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. A cautious questioning of Sam told me that Reed’s appearance on the grounds was sporadic. Patrice had him on some sort of retainer on an ad-hoc basis, and he wasn’t part of the regular staff.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Have you finished reading all the manuals?” Patrice asked.
“Almost,” I lied. For the last hour or so I had been doing everything but reading the manuals.
“I’ll need you to shadow Mandy starting tomorrow for the rest of the week. Once she thinks that you have housekeeping down pat, I’ll move you to another position. Hands on training will bring everything you’ve been reading about to life.” Patrice seemed very satisfied with herself.
I looked back up at the chandelier. I was certain now that my housekeeping training was going to include that arduous task. I wished I could think of a way to escape Bleckerville unscathed. I had no idea when my mother volunteered me to work at the Willoughby for the summer that it was going to be this much work. However, for some reason, I had a suspicion that my mother did. She was sneaky like that, and she probably even encouraged Patrice to run me ragged. My mother would find satisfaction in that.
Patrice nodded and then headed back toward the kitchen. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was eleven, which meant that they’d be setting the buffet lunch out on the sideboard for any guest who wanted to have lunch on property. The staff could eat whatever was left at one-thirty; otherwise it was fend for yourself. My stomach was also painfully adjusting to my new schedule.
I picked up the phone and dialed Reed’s number before I chickened out.
“Black,” he said. He sounded distracted.
I almost hung up, but then caught myself. This wasn’t a social call, and I wasn’t going to bother him. I did have a valid reason for making the call. “It’s Kate. From the Willoughby Inn.”
“Hello, Kate from the Willoughby Inn,” he said. His voice sounded like warm caramel, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“You have?” Startled, I wondered if I had missed some overt signal or sign.
“Sure. Friends call friends and ask to hang out, right? I figured you’d call when you had some free time since I think I’m your only friend so far in Bleckerville. Isn’t that still the way they do things at that prestigious college that you are attending?”
He was definitely making fun of me, and he obviously had a high opinion of himself. “I believe that the ability to make phone calls goes both ways,” I said. “If you were a truly considerate friend, you would have called to check in on me and see how I was transitioning to life at the Willoughby. Maybe I should be upset you didn’t call me.” Was I flirting? I didn’t usually flirt with friends. This whole relationship was confusing.
“Yes, but I don’t know your cell number and if I would call the Willoughby and ask to speak with you, there was a good chance I’d get your aunt on the line. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was calling her niece,” he said.
“Hmm, I see your dilemma.” The banter was friendly and nice.
Patrice re-entered the room, and I stood up straighter. She pointed at the phone and mouthed “Reed?” I nodded before clearing my throat again.
“So like I was saying, the door to the bathroom in one of the guest rooms is sticking and we need you to come out right away.”
“Oh, so this wasn’t a social call. How unfortunate.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I detected disappointment in his voice. “Tell Patrice I’ll be out around five. I’m backed up today, so that’s the soonest I can get there.”
“That’s fine,” I said hurriedly. “We’ll see you then.” I hung up the phone.
Patrice looked at me expectantly. “Well?”
“He’ll be here at five,” I said. “He’s backed up today.”
Judging by the glare of her face, I thought Patrice was going to call him back and give him a piece of her mind. “Fine, let’s hope it’s something easy to fix and that Mr. and Mrs. Neuman’s antique shopping keeps them occupied until dinner.”
I waited until Patrice left the room before sliding my cell phone out of my pocket. I programmed Reed’s number into it, and then I glanced furtively over my shoulder. I was still alone. I quickly typed in a text and sent it to him.
Sorry about that. Ornery aunt at three o’clock.
Less than thirty seconds later, I had a response.
We can’t have an ornery aunt.
That was a statement of the obvious. I wasn’t sure how to ask my next question. Reed opened the door though, and it was my chance to step through it.
Do you want to grab a coffee or something sometime?
Friendly coffee?
I blew out a breath of disgust. I sucked at friendships even worse than I sucked at relationships. How Millie and I were still friends was beyond me. Of course, she knew that I’d drop everything and rush to her side if she needed me, but regular communication and correspondence fell outside my comfort zone. Of course, my mother and Dr. Kreger slapped me with the label of “self-absorbed”. I just thought that most people didn’t really care if they spoke to me or not and often the feeling was mutual.
What other kind of coffee is there?
I’ll catch up with you later. Gotta go.
Then he was gone. I wasn’t sure what to make of his abrupt exit to the conversation. It was possible that Reed was worse at friendships than I was, which was an interesting thought. If he and I were equally hopeless, then this was going to be the most intriguing friendship in history.
I was still thinking about Reed when Patrice strode by twenty minutes later.
“Patrice?” I thought hard how to appropriately phrase my question in a way that didn’t appear that I was trying to get out of working. Which, of course, I was. “We haven’t really talked about my work schedule.”
My aunt peered at me over the counter, and I dropped my shoulders in an attempt to appear as subservient to her will as possible. Patrice had the ability to make or break my pathetic excuse for summer in the palms of her hands.
“Schedule?”
“I thought that I’d do a little touring of the county and visit some of the other locations around Bleckerville that are in Where My Heart Breaks,” I said on the fly. “I know that was one thing I read in the manuals, the more you know about the grounds and the surrounding vicinity, the better resource you can be for the guests. I haven’t even had a chance to finish reading the book since I’ve been so busy.”
Patrice looked surprised. I was equally surprised at my reasonable and logical request. It made it sound as if I was actually interested in learning more about my summer prison. Just when I was sure that she smelled the bullshit, she said, “You can pick a day to take off during the week if you want it. Weekends are busy around here with small catering events, so I’ll need you around.”
That meant that I was working six days a week. I realized that I could have found better hours at my local Starbucks. “How about one weekday and alternating weekend nights?”
Patrice raised an eyebrow. It was obvious that she hadn’t expected me to negotiate. “I get to pick the weekend night as I see fit.”
“Done,” I said with a smile. “In that case, I’d like to take off tonight. Since it’s short notice, I’ll count today as a full day off even though I’ll work until dinnertime.”
“I can’t let you off tonight,” Patrice said.
I intended to ask Reed out for coffee that night before I chickened out. I had to find a way to get out of working, and there was no way in hell I was about to tell Patrice the real reason I was insisting on the time off. “I’ll clear the online reservation queue and finish reading the catering section, so I’m all geared up for this weekend before I go.”
She wanted to say no, but I think my burst of engaged interaction threw her off. “As long as you check in and make sure that Sam doesn’t need any help tonight, I guess that’s fine.”
Ugh.
I had already taken note of Patrice’s overt attempts to get me interested in Sam and they were wearing thin. “Thanks, Patrice.”
Already deep in her own thoughts, she walked away without answering. I had won the battle but not the war. Sighing, I pulled out the manual on food preparation and catering. I had a lot of reading to do before dinnertime.
CHAPTER SEVEN
You would think that since I was well on my way to a college degree, the idea of figuring out food costs and ordering sufficient supplies of varying varieties of food for different themed events would have been a breeze. I must have missed that class in school though because even with taking notes, I had a hard time wrapping my brain around Patrice’s convoluted formulas. I didn’t think I’d done this much math since high school, and it was making my brain hurt.
Notebook paper scattered all over the registration desk, I dug underneath the nearest pile for my calculator again. I was ready to go through the sample budget calculation for the umpteenth time when I felt a tingling sensation creep across my skin. It was the eerie feeling that I was being watched.
I looked up and found Reed leaning against the open doorway with a toolbox in hand. He wore a grey button down shirt and white cargo shorts today that offset his sun kissed skin. A jaunty black curl slung down over his left eye. He offered up a small wave, and I forcibly reminded myself that we were just friends. In my opinion though, friends shouldn’t be allowed to look that damn good. It was unfair.
“You look busy,” he said as he strolled to the other side of the counter.
“Patrice wants to be sure I’m taking this whole assistant manager thing seriously,” I said, waving my hands at all the paper around me.
“Are you?”
I had an acidic reply locked and loaded in seconds, but caught it before it passed through my lips when I saw the twinkle in his eye. He was trying to get a rise out of me. “Book an event any weekend in July and you’ll find out,” I replied instead.