Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2)

by Kella Campbell

  “I’m not agreeing to anything,” said Nell, “I just… I don’t know.”

  He grinned, his face lighting up. “You don’t have to know anything. Oh, Nell, if you give me a chance, I’ll blow your mind.”

  “You’re not cocky at all, are you?” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from grinning back at him.

  Mary brought Nell’s grapefruit juice in a glass with a sugar-frosted rim. “Ready to order?” she asked. Eamonn, looking as though he’d forgotten they were in a restaurant, grabbed one of the menus. “Or do you need more time?”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be ready by the time Nell has ordered hers.”

  “Sure thing. Nell?” Mary turned to her with a peppy smile.

  “The mushroom omelet, please.”

  “With breakfast potatoes or fruit salad?”

  “Fruit salad would be great, thanks.”

  Mary looked over at Eamonn with an inquiring expression, and he nodded. “I’m going with a Benny and potatoes.” At Nell’s sharp look, he added, “Please. And a dash more coffee when you have a minute, sweetheart?”

  Mary glowed. “Of course. I’ll be right over with it; just let me get your food order in to François.” She does seem to like being called sweetheart, Nell thought uncomfortably. But weren’t pet names for women diminishing and disrespectful?

  More hot water for Nell’s tea arrived along with Eamonn’s fresh coffee.

  The French doors swung open, letting in a gust of wind. A middle-aged couple dripped their way in and deposited their wet umbrellas into the brass umbrella stand. They settled themselves at a table near the fireplace, and as Mary went to greet them and take their beverage order, the door opened again and a young couple in Bride and Groom t-shirts drifted in, holding hands and not seeming to mind how windy and wet it was. The honeymooners, as they obviously were, called a greeting to Mary and the older couple, then settled themselves at what was presumably their regular table.

  Nell leaned closer to Eamonn to talk quietly. “I’m guessing the older woman is the one I talked to on the phone: Mrs. Prince, here with her husband, arrived yesterday. So the bride and groom are probably Pauline Morton and Jason Butcher, because Krug is one of the two ‘bridal suite’ cottages — you know, heart-shaped bathtubs, that kind of stuff. They’ve been here since Sunday, so they will have been checked in by Jessalyn, and I’m hoping they can give us some clue what happened to her.”

  Mary brought their breakfasts. The eggs were cooked to perfection — her omelet fluffy and fork-tender, his Benny poached just right. The hollandaise sauce was a taste of heaven; the unseen François clearly knew his way around a kitchen. Nell licked some sugar from the rim of her juice glass and felt a happy glow of contentment.

  The door banged open again, and a tall, thin man in a long leather coat stepped in, carrying a suitcase. “Mary?” he called, and she popped out from the kitchen with a wave and smile.

  “Hi, Mr. Leith. Where’s Mr. Halliday? Isn’t he having breakfast this morning?”

  “He’s getting the car. We’ve decided to head home a day early, my dear. He doesn’t like to admit it, but his lungs aren’t strong, and all this rain isn’t helping.”

  Mary tsked regretfully, her usual smile dissolving into a moue of disappointment. “Aww, that’s a shame. Tell him to come in and have breakfast before you go, or at least a coffee.”

  “We want to get an early start. We were thinking of stopping to eat somewhere on the road,” Mr. Leith said. “I was hoping you could open the office and do our checkout.”

  “I can’t leave the dining room right now, Mr. Leith.” Mary fluttered her hands apologetically. “Maybe if you and Mr. Halliday have your coffee here, Nell from head office will be able to do your checkout after she’s finished her breakfast.” Mary gestured toward Nell and Eamonn’s table.

  Nell waved acknowledgment and called out, “I won’t be long, nearly done here, then I’ll be happy to take you over to the office to do your checkout.”

  “Don’t hurry on my account,” the man said graciously. “Perhaps I may have a cup of coffee after all, Mary, and one of François’s delectable chocolate croissants, if he’s made any this morning. After all, there’s no sense getting on the road with an empty stomach.” He fished a phone out of one of his coat pockets and tapped away with both thumbs, paused, and tapped some more. “Finn will be joining me in a minute or two,” he told Mary as he settled himself at one of the tables, “if you could bring him a coffee as well, and an avocado toast.”

  Once Mr. Leith had made himself comfortable, Nell realized there was no hurry in finishing her breakfast. His partner Finn arrived and tucked into avocado toast, and they started a conversation about horse racing, of all things, with the newlyweds. They’d be content for a while. Nell enjoyed every last bite of her mushroom hollandaise omelet and every sip of her grapefruit juice and tea.

  After she was done, and Eamonn had cleared every bit of food from his plate too, she suggested they go over and open the office, ready to do the Leith-Halliday checkout and tend to any further business for the day. He agreed.

  As they passed the men’s table on their way out, Nell stopped and greeted them with a professional smile. “I’m sorry you’ve decided to head out a day early, but I quite understand why, with all this rain — it’s a bit over the top for June. My co-worker and I are just going over to open up the office. Please take your time with your coffee, and we’ll be ready to do your check-out whenever it’s convenient for you.”

  “Thank you, dear. We won’t be long,” said the second man, Finn.

  Nell could feel Eamonn’s astonished eyes on her. As soon as they got outside, he turned to her and asked, “Why didn’t you object to him calling you dear?”

  Uh, because I didn’t even notice? She’d been thinking of several things at once, planning ahead, doing the courtesy thing with one part of her brain. In the moment, it just hadn’t mattered what a polite and well-mannered stranger called her, because he didn’t mean it with ill intent, and it just wasn’t important. “Because he didn’t say it like I was lesser. He probably calls everyone dear, male or female. Like people saying ma’am in martial arts — lots of women are put off by being called ma’am in regular life, like it makes them feel old or helpless or something, but when we’re in uniform, we just say sir and ma’am to everyone, regardless of age or belt level. Context, right?”

  He snickered. “And you’ve never accidentally called someone sir or ma’am when you’re not in uniform? You’ve never said it automatically, respectfully, and had someone think you were patronizing them or calling them old?”

  Nell pulled up the hood of her oversized hoodie, jerking it forward so it would hide her face a bit. She busied herself putting up her umbrella, kept her eyes moving between the slick pavement of the driveway and the office they headed toward — anything to avoid looking at Eamonn. Of course I have. She could think of dozens of incidents where the familiar, respectful ma’am had come automatically from her lips, especially when she was under pressure, and been met with sneers, an offended rise of eyebrows or chins, and even the occasional snappy “I’m not a ma’am!” or “Do I look that old to you?” Crap.

  “I hate having wet shoes,” she muttered, as she splashed through a particularly deep puddle. Wet shoes, wet socks, and wet pants up to the ankles. Also a blatant change of subject, but whatever. She wasn’t sure if Eamonn had even heard her.

  They reached the office building. A sleek silver Lexus RC350 was now parked behind Eamonn’s truck, not leaving room for any more vehicles under the portico. “I’d better move my truck,” he said. “We’re obviously stuck here for a few days and it’s taking up prime space.”

  “Site map says there’s staff parking behind this building,” she told him, glad to move on to less a less uncomfortable subject. “I think you need to loop around the restaurant to get there, but at least you don’t have to put it in the guest lot and walk back. I’ll go throug
h inside and see if there’s a back door I can open for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nell got the office keys out of her hoodie pocket and unlocked the front door. Behind her, she heard the truck door open and close. She didn’t look back or wave to him, though she wanted to. That’s silly. He’ll be back here in five minutes. She collapsed her umbrella and stepped inside, sticking it in the umbrella holder by the door. Her feet squelched on the tile floor, wet shoes oozing puddle water. Ugh. After turning on the office lights, she slipped through the “staff only” passageway to the back of the building, where she found a bathroom, a small break room with a microwave and television, and a back door that opened onto the staff parking lot — all four stalls of it. Two were occupied, presumably by cars belonging to Mary and François. Nell guessed that the turquoise Kia Soul with a tiny disco ball hanging from its rearview mirror belonged to Mary, so that made François the driver of the old grey Jeep.

  As she stood there, she heard the smooth purr of Eamonn’s big truck’s engine, and he pulled into view through the rain, turning smoothly into one of the remaining spaces. Something about the way he handled the big vehicle made her feel like purring — but then, she’d always been turned on by competence, and he handled his vehicles, both the truck and the bike, with smooth and unfaltering skill.

  She waved and held the door open as he ran for it, shoulders hunched and eyes squinted against the rain. “What’d you do with your umbrella?” she asked, and he shrugged.

  “I think I left it by the front of the office. It’s not in my truck.”

  He came in, dripping, and began to peel off his hoodie. She turned away to lead him down the passageway to the front office, trying to shut out of her mind the glimpse of taut stomach she’d had when his t-shirt clung to his hoodie and was pulled upward. Not to mention the memory of his bare torso during their sit-ups that morning and while he was making tea the night before. The man has a good body, I’ll grant him that much.

  The two men from the dining room were sitting on one of the sofas in the front office, waiting to check out. “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Nell said, putting as much upbeat energy into her tone and expression as she could. You get back what you put out — positive staff attitudes lead to happy guests. She’d told new Wildforest staff that too many times to count, and she’d learned it first-hand in her martial arts training: if the instructor is having a good day, the class will too, and a grumpy instructor’s mood spreads like the plague. “Now, I understand that you’re leaving a day early because of the weather. Is that right?”

  “Regretfully, yes,” said the thin man.

  “It’s my health,” said his partner, looking rueful. “Jude wants to get me home. It’s nothing against the resort, we’ve had a lovely time here.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you’re not well, s—” Nell began, then caught herself; she’d been about to use sir outside of training. Men tended to object to that less than women minded ma’am, but still. She glanced down at the computer screen. Mary had called the thin man Mr. Leith, so… “Mr. Halliday. I expect you’ll feel better once you’re in your own home. And since you’re leaving for health reasons, I can waive the early departure fee for you.”

  Mr. Halliday smiled. “That’s very kind. And please, call me Finn. He’s Jude. We aren’t formal.”

  She printed out the summary of their stay and charges and tax, tucked it into a cream-colored cardstock folder, and turned to where Eamonn lounged against the wall. “Could you take this over to the gentlemen so they don’t need to get up?” He took it with an agreeable nod and carried it over to them, while she looked around for the credit and debit card terminal that had to be around somewhere but wasn’t in evidence on the desk. Must be a wireless model, she thought, and sure enough, she spotted a base for it. Locked up overnight, maybe? One of the keys on her ring was for the desk’s two lockable drawers, and she found the unit in the second one, along with the petty cash box. “Are you paying with a card? I can bring the terminal to you if you are.”

  “Please,” said Jude. He produced a leather wallet from his coat pocket and drew out a platinum Visa. Nell took a seat on the other sofa as she punched in the necessary information, then handed the device to him.

  She felt the sofa compress as Eamonn sat down beside her. “I’ll be honest with you,” he said to the men. “We’re trying to find out what happened to the person who usually works in the office here. She seems to have disappeared.”

  “That nice young woman? Oh, dear,” said Finn. “I hope you find her. We haven’t seen her since Tuesday afternoon, when she replenished the tea and coffee in our cottage. That would have been around four.”

  Jude looked thoughtful. “You might try the hospital. I thought I heard a siren yesterday morning but we’re isolated enough here that I figured I must have been dreaming. It was early.”

  “Nine o’clock is early for you, dear,” Finn teased, but he nodded. “I thought I heard a siren too, around seven thirty — and I was definitely awake, but no one else said anything so I assumed I must have imagined it.”

  Site managers were expected to be awake and in the office at seven. At seven thirty in the morning, on an ordinary day, Jessalyn would have been at her desk right there in the office, preparing check-in and check-out packages for the day, dealing with her email, drinking her coffee, and resolving any problems that had come up the night before; that is, anything she hadn’t had to get up in the night for. As a site manager, she’d signed up to live on the premises for the summer and be on call twenty-four hours a day, hadn’t she?

  “A siren,” said Eamonn. “That’s interesting. Not a fire, presumably, so… ambulance, or police?”

  And wouldn’t that be a disaster, Nell thought, if the site manager had been arrested. Wildforest management had a tendency to hold the site supervisor — her — responsible for anything that happened, no matter how surprising or out of her control it might be. “Let’s assume it was an ambulance, for now,” she said firmly. “There’ll be information here somewhere on emergency services and the closest hospital. That gives us somewhere to start. Thank you both so much.”

  Jude held out a business card. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing to let us know when you find her, we’d appreciate it.” Finn nodded agreement, and coughed. They got up and shook hands with Nell and Eamonn. Nell held out the receipt from the card terminal, which she realized she’d been holding all that time, and Jude tucked it into the folder that held their summary of charges and stay information. “We’ll come again,” he said.

  “I hope you do,” Nell told him. “Finn, I hope you feel better soon.”

  He smiled, the sort of smile that people with chronic conditions give to those statements, and shrugged a little. “I’m lucky I have Jude to take care of me.”

  “Have a safe drive home,” Eamonn said, and then Finn and Jude were out the door, and shortly the silver Lexus roared off down the rainy drive.

  Nell got up from the sofa and went behind the desk to look for the site’s information binder. Every site had to have one so that the site manager could answer guests’ questions about the area and find relevant contact information for any situation. She found it in one of the drawers and opened it, hoping it was comprehensive. Fortunately, there was a tab marked Emergencies, and along with state-licensed wildlife control operators, listings for a couple of dentists and an optometrist, she found a listing for a health clinic in Winthrop and one for Three Rivers Hospital in Brewster, as well as information for the area’s ambulance service provider. “Okay, then,” she said to herself. “She’s probably at Three Rivers if it was so much of an emergency that she couldn’t leave a note.”

  She heard the door open and looked up to see Eamonn leaving. That’s odd. She wondered where he was going, since there was a bathroom in the staff area at the back. But she told herself he couldn’t be going far, and she didn’t have time to think about what he was up to. She thought of calling Three Riv
ers but hadn’t a clue what department to ask for, and a large hospital might not give out information without a lot of circling around. She called the ambulance service.

  “Hello, this is Nell Whelan calling from Champagne Cascades. We’re trying to track down a missing employee and I was told there might have been an ambulance out this way yesterday?”

  “Champagne Cascades,” said the female voice on the other end of the phone. “That’s the resort at the falls up past Winthrop?”

  “That’s right,” Nell said. “Can you tell me if you had a call here?”

  “Yes. We took a young woman to Three Rivers Hospital. Is she your missing employee?”

  “Jessalyn Roberts,” said Nell. “I know there might be privacy issues, but would you be able to tell me what department of the hospital I should be calling to check on her?”

  There was a brief pause on the phone, as though the woman was surprised. “Labor and Delivery, of course,” she said.

  “She’s… pregnant?” Nell asked, her voice rather weak and showing her astonishment.

  “Visibly so, according to our team,” the woman said. “I don’t think she could have kept it a secret. I wouldn’t have said anything…”

  “Understood. I’m from the company’s head office and just took over the property from a different supervisor, so I’ve never met Jessalyn in person. They sent me up to find out what happened to her. I’m just glad she’s alive.”

  “I need to take another call now,” the woman said. “You have a great day.”

  Just as Nell hung up the phone, the door opened and Eamonn returned, carrying two steaming mugs. He put one down in front of her. “Paris tea,” he said. “Thought you could use it, baby.” The pet name was added deliberately, ironically, with an arched eyebrow. Not going to rise to it, she told herself.

  “Baby is apparently the operative word,” she said. “I’ve found Jessalyn, and she’s in the labor and delivery section of the nearest hospital.”