by Laura Durham
“Your living and dining room, Ms. Archer.” the man said, sweeping an arm to encompass the beige and teak wood furniture that decorated the room. A large round mirror hung over a table that held an arrangement of white orchids and a russet-colored urn with a lid.
I took a quick peek at myself in the mirror. Aside from the fact that my long auburn hair hadn’t been washed in almost two days and most of my makeup had worn off, I didn’t look as tired as I felt. “Call me Annabelle.”
“Okay, Ms. Annabelle.” The man grinned and swept an arm in the direction of the flat screen TV on a polished wood console.
I lifted the fresh flower garland from around my neck and placed it on the round dining table beside a glass bowl of tropical fruits, feeling my stomach growl at the sight of the food. When had I last eaten? At this point, the meals on the airplane were a blur of blandness. I ran my hand over the bumpy green skin of a small fruit I’d never seen before and wondered if it would be sweet or tart.
“Your bedroom and closet, Ms. Annabelle.” The butler led me from the living room to the bedroom with a king-sized bed covered in white linens with huge wall mirrors to each side. This room, like the first one, had one entire wall of glass that looked out onto the balcony and was covered with beige linen drapes. He pulled open the drapes and light poured into the room.
I blinked at the brightness and made a mental note to close the curtains before I changed. I then poked my head into the walk-in closet with a series of blond wood drawers beneath the long hanging racks on two sides. “This is larger than some apartments in Georgetown.”
The butler smiled again and nodded. I fell in step behind him as he showed me the final room—the marble and glass bathroom with a sleek freestanding tub at one end broken up by a long stretch of countertop and double sinks before the glass enclosed shower at the other. I opened a frosted glass door next to the shower and the lid of a modern-looking toilet rose automatically.
“It’s motion activated,” the butler explained, waving his hand up and down to demonstrate how to raise and lower the lid. “And the seat is heated. You have a control panel to the side.”
Wow, I mouthed.
The butler gestured to the glass wall at the far end of the bathroom. “The hot tub is outside on the balcony. You let me know when you want to use it, and I will remove the cover and turn it on for you.”
I looked at him. “I have my own hot tub?”
The dark-haired man smiled and nodded. He seemed pleased by how impressed I was with the suite. “Would you like to use it now?”
I waved away the thought. “No, not now. I should unpack first.”
He bobbed his head and smiled some more. “If you need anything at all, you call me.”
I followed him back through the suite, tipping him with American dollars since I hadn’t had the chance to change money yet. He seemed pleased as he closed the front door of the room behind him, although I suspected he would have smiled even if he’d been disappointed. So far the Balinese people had impressed me as the happiest people I’d ever met. Certainly they smiled the most.
I took a deep breath, enjoying being alone in my room after such a long time in a plane surrounded by people. I slid off my black cardigan and draped it over the back of a teak wood chair as I crossed the living room and pulled open the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. The long marble balcony stretched the entire length of my suite with a covered sunken hot tub at the far end and a collection of dark brown and cream lounge furniture topped with orange throw pillows that filled the remaining space. As tasteful as the furniture was, it was the view that had me catching my breath.
Standing at the glass balcony wall, I could see the blue of the Indian Ocean in front of me blocked only by clusters of tall palm trees and one of the hotel pools dotted with lounge chairs at its edge as it ran the length of the resort. To my right, ivory curtain-draped cabanas sat along the side of the pool, and I could hear a few people splashing around in the clear water. I looked past the pool to the cliff that jutted out into the ocean and spotted a multitier Balinese temple perched on the edge. It reminded me of a wedding cake with its white layers getting progressively smaller until it reached a point at the top. As the owner of Wedding Belles, one of Washington DC’s top wedding planning companies, I had weddings on my mind more than most people
I took a deep breath, smelling the faint scent of salt water and feeling my shoulders relax. I sat down on the nearest lounge chair and stretched my feet out in front of me, letting my head drop back against the cushion and closing my eyes. I breathed in slowly and tried to let the plane trip melt away.
“Can you believe this place?” Kate’s voice jerked me out of my moment’s peace. My assistant’s head was leaning over the divide between my suite and hers, her blond bob moving in the breeze.
“It’s pretty amazing,” I said.
She took in my balcony and nodded in approval. “You have a hot tub, too. I’m going to come over and check out your place.”
Her head disappeared before I could tell her that our rooms were probably identical, so I reluctantly rose from the lounge chair and walked to my front door as the door bell chimed.
“Don’t you love the fact that we have doorbells?” she asked when I’d opened the door. “It’s probably because you wouldn’t hear someone knocking if you were all the way in the bedroom or bathroom. Speaking of bathrooms, can you believe that shower? Our entire crew could fit inside.” She lowered her voice as if an imaginary person might overhear us. “And the toilet seat is heated.”
I was amazed that Kate had as much energy as she did after our long trip and lack of sleep. I was also surprised that she’d already changed out of her leggings and hoodie from the plane and was wearing a pink and white sundress that, per usual, showed plenty of leg. “The hotel is spoiling us, that’s for sure.”
Kate kicked off her pink kitten heels, leaving them behind in the foyer. “I mean, we’ve been on FAM trips before, but this is incredible.”
I had to agree. As wedding planners, we’d been invited to stay overnight and familiarize ourselves with various hotels and resorts (the phrase “FAM trip” was short for “familiarization trip”), but never had we been invited to Bali and put up in suites in a luxury oceanfront resort that had been named one of the top in the world.
“When do you think we meet the other people on the trip?” Kate asked as she flopped down on my couch and tucked her bare feet under her.
I shrugged. “The official events don’t begin until tonight’s dinner.”
“Did you see the attendee map they emailed us? There are planners here from Paris, Australia, and Japan. It’s so cool that we’re the only planners from DC.”
I didn’t want to tell Kate that I’d been a little intimidated when I’d seen the list of the forty other planners, florists, and caterers who would be joining us. One of the LA planners had even had his own reality show.
“Don’t worry, Annabelle.” Kate seemed to read my mind. “We’re just as fabulous as the rest of the people here. Our Rose Garden wedding was featured in Insider Weddings magazine just last month.”
“And I’m sure that’s one of the reasons we’re here,” I said, joining her on the couch and lifting the glass dome off a plate of miniature sweets on the coffee table. “The owners of the magazine are co-sponsoring the trip.”
“Booking that White House wedding definitely made up for some of our past disasters.” Kate took a mini tart topped with tropical fruits when I held out the plate.
“I hope you don’t go around telling people we have wedding disasters,” I said, popping a mini tart in my mouth and sighing at the sweetness of the fruit and pastry cream.
Kate swallowed and dabbed at the edge of her mouth. “Well, what would you call the murders?”
I gave her my sternest look. “I would call them an off-limit topic of conversation on this trip.”
She held up her hands. “Fine. You’ll have to tell the rest of the gang, though. Y
ou know how Fern loves to gossip.”
I thought this was rich coming from Kate since she was usually the person our friend, and go-to wedding hairstylist, Fern loved gossiping to.
Kate stood up and bounded out to the balcony. “Do you think we can see their rooms from ours?”
I followed her with a little less bounce in my step. “Maybe. They should all be on the same floor as us.”
Kate craned herself over the glass barrier. “Fern, Richard, Buster, Mack!” She paused as she waited for a response but no one answered.
“Maybe they don’t have their balcony doors opened.” I leaned my forearms against the glass and looked down on the pool area. “Richard looked pretty tired when we arrived. He might be taking a nap.”
“And Buster and Mack said they needed to meet with the in-house floral department about tonight’s design,” Kate said. “How cool is it that they’re going to be teaching the staff at the resort how to arrange flowers while we’re here?”
“Apparently, the guys at Insider Weddings talked up their design for our Rose Garden wedding so much to the hotel manager that she insisted they come and teach her floral team,” I said.
“They’ll still be able to have fun with us, won’t they?” Kate asked. “Although our schedule looks pretty packed, too.”
“What schedule?” I asked.
Kate flung a hand in the direction of my bedroom. “There’s an itinerary on the bed. Which reminds me, we’re supposed to meet the group in the lobby for afternoon tea in about ten minutes.”
I straightened up. “Ten minutes? Why didn’t you tell me? No wonder you look so cute.”
Kate winked at me. “Be honest, Annabelle. I always look cute.”
Before I could respond, my eye caught a glimpse of a blond man in beige pants and a mango-colored shirt walking along the pool deck towards the hotel. Something about the way he walked made me pause, and I tried to get a better look as he vanished inside the building.
“Are you okay?” Kate asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head trying to shake the thought out of my head. “It must be the jet lag. Either that or I think I did see a ghost.”
“Come again?”
“Do you remember Jeremy Johns, that awful New York designer who made our lives miserable during the yacht wedding?”
Kate crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You mean the guy who made our lives miserable and ran off with the payments? It rings a bell. Why?”
I shuddered even though it was warm outside. “I could swear I just saw him walking into the hotel.”
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To keep reading the 7th Annabelle Archer novel, go to the next page and buy Eat, Prey, Love!
Also by Laura Durham
Read the entire Annabelle Archer Series in order:
Better Off Wed
For Better Or Hearse
Dead Ringer
Review To A Kill
Death On The Aisle
Night of the Living Wed
Eat, Prey, Love
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Thanks for reading and reviewing!
For Amanda,
who has been my indispensable right hand woman for years (and who spent most of our time at Bedford Springs hunting for ghosts!)
Acknowledgments
As always, thank you to my advance readers. You are my first line of defense and you never fail to make excellent suggestions! Thank you to all my readers. I love hearing from you!
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This book was inspired by a trip to the beautiful Omni Bedford Springs resort. The poltergeist is a complete fabrication but we did hear about the friendly spirits who inhabit the historic hotel. According to stories, there is a ghost named Anna who drowned in the pool. Thank you to Bryan Stiffler for being a wonderful host at Bedford and for all the insider tips.
About the Author
Laura Durham has been writing for as long as she can remember and has been plotting murders since she began planning weddings over twenty years ago. Her first novel, BETTER OFF WED, won the Agatha Award for Best First Novel.
When she isn’t writing or wrangling brides, Laura loves traveling with her family, standup paddling, perfecting the perfect brownie recipe, and reading obsessively.
She loves hearing from readers and she would love to hear from you! Send an email or connect on Facebook or Twitter (links below) or Instagram (lauradurhamauthor).
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Copyright © 2017 by Broadmoor Books
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.