A Holiday Romance, page 7
“You told me to call you Kyle, and I’ve decided I prefer it, too.”
“Huh. And here I’d been thinking that ‘Miss Potter’ was rather intriguing.”
“Tonight I’m just Alice.”
“May I walk Alice to her door?”
“Yes.” Anticipation ratcheted up her pulse, but when they reached the Raffertys’ condo, Kyle stepped away, instead of coming closer.
“Sleep late,” he advised, all professional. “Call room service for breakfast. Or there’s a poolside brunch that serves till one.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there?” At his silence, she explained, “Seeing as you’re up just as late—or early—as I am.”
“I’m used to four or five hours’ sleep a night.” She’d almost convinced herself that there was regret in his voice when he added, “Besides, I rarely mingle with the guests.”
And good night to you, Miss Potter.
The Prince Montez Oasis Resort’s namesake Oasis Garden is a lush paradise of native flora and fauna all year-round.
July 25
Dear Sue,
Boy, do I ever wish you were here! I have so much to tell you, including that I actually went hottubbing at 2:00 a.m. Such decadence. Too bad it was only me and my sore muscles! My condo has a spa in a private courtyard and I couldn’t resist after several very long days of activity, including horseback riding (I met a cowboy!), a nature hike and cake decorating (yes, you read that right). More later, I’m heading off to brunch now. Ah, the life of leisure…
Much love to Mike and the kids,
Miss Potter (that’s what the staff calls me)
“WHY ARE YOU so grumpy this morning?” Lani asked, coming in with Kyle’s coffee. She was dressed in a suit so yellow he wished he had his sunglasses. “I heard about you firing the chef, but a dismissal’s never affected you like this before. Even that time with Daisy.”
He sipped the coffee. Strong and black, sweetened with a hint of sugar. “I haven’t said two words. How do you know I’m grumpy?”
“How long have I been your secretary?” Lani didn’t wait for an answer. “Three years and then some, ever since you were promoted from assistant manager.” She settled down with her cappuccino. “You think I can’t read your body language by now?”
“You read me wrong. I’m just a little tired. I didn’t get my usual five hours.” Three nights in a row.
“Mmm-hmm. I heard all about it. You were prowling the grounds at 2:00 a.m.”
Kyle grunted. On any given morning, Lani stopped on her way to the office to chat with the doorman, the front-desk clerk, the housekeeping staff. She called them the PM grapevine. He called them her spies. But since he wasn’t above making use of their inside information himself, he could hardly complain when she turned the tool against him.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I went for a late workout.”
“Then why not sleep in? It wouldn’t kill you to come to the office after 7:00 a.m. once in a while.”
“I couldn’t sleep this morning, either.”
Lani’s lashes fluttered at him over the rim of her cup. “Insomnia?” she suggested with false innocence.
“Huh.”
The secretary grinned. She could even interpret his monosyllablic grunts.
Kyle swiveled around to stare out the windows. After leaving Alice at her door, he’d gone back to the hotel with something other than blood charging in his veins. Not frustration, exactly, but whatever he’d felt, he hadn’t liked it. For one, he wasn’t in control. Worse, he’d overreacted. Alice bailing out the pastry chefs hadn’t been that big a deal. He’d come off as pompous and rigid—and she’d tweaked him for it. Rightfully.
So that didn’t completely explain his inability to sleep. He’d been out of sorts even before he’d discovered Alice in the lobby with that goofy purple-goateed chef. And while pumping iron at one in the morning wasn’t his usual practice, it wasn’t unheard of, either. The staff shouldn’t have had that much to comment on.
Then why was Lani watching him with such a calculating expression? She didn’t think he was losing it over one somewhat pesky but otherwise unremarkable woman, did she? A guest?
Hell, no. Not him.
Kyle put the coffee aside and pulled over the stack of departmental year-to-date reports. “Are we ready for the nine-o’clock meeting?” He’d called for every manager to attend with their annual reports fully updated. There’d be no surprises when the executives arrived next week. No surprises at all.
Lani clucked her tongue. “You could use a yoga class or two. It’d really loosen you up.”
“Not necessary. I can touch my toes.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that kind of flexible.”
Acing the performance review would end his anxiety. He might even feel so relieved that he’d sleep for twelve hours straight.
Kyle pulled at the constricting knot of his tie. Admitting anxiety, even to himself, was not getting him anywhere.
Lani handed him a couple of sheets of stapled paper. “Today’s agenda, hot from the printer.” She added a brightly colored card. “And here’s your invitation to your mother’s birthday party.”
That he brushed aside. Open the door an inch and the entire tribe would bust through. He couldn’t risk distractions, not now.
Lani made another clucking sound, but he ignored her.
“Thanks. That’ll be all for now.” He took up the agenda, relishing the crisp paper, the scent of fresh ink, the neat printing and perfectly aligned row of bullet points. The schedule sliced into ten-minute increments.
He had order, action, dedication to one goal. That was plenty.
HUEVOS RANCHEROS sounded exotic, but the dish turned out to be a fancy name for scrambled eggs and fixings plopped on top of a tortilla. Nothing new and different there, until Alice bit unexpectedly into the tomato sauce, which was hot with chile. She cooled her tongue with a gulp of guava juice, then sampled some green stuff that turned out to be guacamole.
The chorizo sausages were somewhat familiar, bringing her back to winter mornings on the island when she was a child. Ocean wind rattling the windowpanes. The house chilly. But the kitchen was always warm, with her mother at the stove making breakfast and Alice at the table with Jay. They were usually teasing each other, squabbling back and forth until the food arrived. Stacks of blueberry pancakes, real maple syrup warmed in a battered saucepan, piles of hot, spicy sausage cakes.
Alice looked out across the golf course. The emerald-green grass was cut here and there with sand traps, which curved into question marks. A border of towering palms with upthrust fronds looked like the frazzled paintbrushes her students had used in the classroom.
Four years after Alice had moved back to the island, so did Jay. He’d given up lobstering after his divorce to become a sort of nouveau hippie vegan potter, claiming his surname was Destiny. His ten-year-old daughter and three-year-old twin boys spent part of their summers on Osprey in happy squalor at Jay’s bachelor digs.
As their mother’s disease had spread, he’d spelled Alice during the worst periods, giving her some relief from the strain. That had been a help, along with having the children near their grandmother. Alice was the loving aunt, the one who stopped by with new storybooks and took the kids on picnics and babysat whenever Jay needed her. She’d enjoyed it, except for the uncomfortable feeling that she’d settled too easily into spinsterhood.
“Well, well, look what I found. Miss Alice Potter, sitting here all by herself.”
“But, oh, you look so pretty in that sun hat,” a second woman put in breathlessly.
Mags and Mary Grace from the condos. Alice had crossed their gang’s path several times since her arrival but always had a horseback ride or lunch to get to.
The gaudy colors in Mags’s kaftan clashed with the orange-red of her boisterous curls. “Darling Alice.” Her eyes skimmed the otherwise empty patio table. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”
“Very much. Although I confess I’m a little homesick this morning.”
“Buck up, toots,” Harriet Humbert said briskly as she joined their group. “We’ll take care of that.”
Oh, dear. Warily Alice tilted up the brim of the floppy straw hat she’d bought in one of the resort gift shops. “You’re all dressed up.”
Mags twirled her long strings of wooden and turquoise beads. “We’ve a wedding to attend.”
“A wedding.” Of course—the cake. “How wonderful that you’re invited.”
Harrie gave a husky laugh. “Who said we’re invited?”
Mary Grace raised a finger to her lips. “Harrie. Hush.”
Harrie crossed her stringy brown arms over a belted fuschia safari jacket. She wore matching walking shorts with orange Crocs. “We’re wedding crashers, not felons.”
Mary Grace was turning pink around the edges. She giggled nervously. “The boys refuse to join us.”
“But you look like a gal with a sense of adventure.” Harrie eyed Alice. “Want to come?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Heh.” Harrie raised her eyebrow skeptically. “Got another lesson?”
“No, but…” Alice was dismayed by her lack of daring. Did she need to take lessons on how to have fun, too?
The thought of the wedding cake put her over the top. She’d love to snap a photo of it on display. Her camera was in her bag.
“All right,” she said after one last scan of the remaining guests and the picked-over buffet table. No sign of Kyle. “Why not?”
“Atta girl,” Harrie crowed.
The trio led Alice around to an area of the resort she hadn’t yet seen, an immense formal garden with covered terraces at several levels and adjacent parking. A spacious gazebo with white lacy fretwork was the focal point. Rows of occupied chairs fanned out on either side of a paved path covered with a long white runner. The floral arrangements that dressed up the area were already wilting in the hot sun.
“We’re late,” Harrie whispered hoarsely as they slipped into chairs in the last row.
“We always take the bride’s side at the indoor ceremonies,” Mags confided to Alice. “More of a crowd to blend with. But the outdoor weddings are less formal.” She settled herself and gazed at the gazebo, where the bride and groom were exchanging vows, flanked by attendants. “We’re lucky it’s so cool today.”
Eleven in the morning and probably a hundred degrees, even in the shade. That was not cool to Alice.
Several people had turned to examine the late arrivals. One man stared suspiciously. Alice fixed her gaze on the members of the wedding party, copying Mags’s innocent expression until the awkward moment had passed. Surreptitiously she wiped away the beads of sweat where her hat met her hairline.
Despite Harrie’s occasional caustic aside, spoken out of the corner of her mouth like she was in a spy movie, Alice lost herself in the tradition of the exchange of vows. The beautiful words, the linked hands, the couple speaking from the heart.
“Lovely.” Mary Grace sighed as the bride and groom kissed.
“Preggo,” said Harrie. And indeed, the bride did appear to be somewhat rotund around the middle. That might explain the hot-as-Hades July wedding.
“Oh, dear,” Alice said. “Here they come.” She ducked beneath her brim as the guests rose to applaud the perspiring newlyweds parading down the aisle.
“That was a good one,” Mags said after the couple had gone by. She looked at Alice with a honeyed sympathy. “You’ve never tied the knot?”
“Not yet.”
“Three times for me,” Harrie put in. “But never as fancy as this. I’m a justice-of-the-peace gal.”
“I want a real church wedding,” Alice said, surprising herself. She hadn’t thought much about weddings since her one and only shot at tying the knot had unraveled.
“Something small, but nice,” she added, thinking of a simple ceremony in the rustic white clapboard church on Osprey Island. Handpicked bouquets, friends and family, a cake she’d baked and frosted herself.
Uh-huh. All she needed was a groom.
Harrie winked. “White dress?”
“Or ivory.” Alice tried not to sound defensive. She was only thirty-four. No longer the dewy virginal type, but not past the age when a white dress was inappropriate.
“Don’t worry,” Harrie said. “You’ve got it going on. You’re still a hot young babe.”
“But you’d better not wait too long.” Mags craned her neck, eager to join the milling crowd.
Alice was happy to change the subject. “What do we do next?”
“On to the reception, of course.” Harrie rubbed her gnarled hands. “This is the fun part.”
“How can we possibly…?” Alice looked at the stirring crowd. Although it was sizable, her companions had a way of standing out.
“Confidence,” Mags said. “If we act like we belong, no one questions us.”
“Personally, I welcome the curiosity. Gives me a chance to brush up old skills.” With a wink, Harrie joined the stream of guests moving toward the terraces, where tables and chairs had been set out beneath oscillating fans. “If anyone asks, I’m the groom’s great-aunt Gertrude, just back from an archaeology dig in Egypt.” She and Mags marched off.
“Smile and keep moving,” Mary Grace advised Alice as she took her arm.
Alice nodded, also planning to avoid all eye contact. “I’m only staying for a few minutes.” Long enough to see the cake.
They skipped the receiving line and went directly to where the white-jacketed staff from the resort circulated with tall frosty mimosas and Bellinis. Alice was parched and took one gratefully, if guiltily.
She moved to the edge of the top terrace where an immense fan blasted cool air that lifted the damp hair clinging to her neck. Air-conditioning the outdoors? Now that was luxury.
The bride and groom were out of sight. She felt foolish for hoping to catch sight of them again.
Glass doors opened off the terrace to an indoor reception room busy with activity as final touches were being made to the wedding breakfast. The cake would be in there. Sidling closer, Alice got a glimpse of it, set up on a festooned table at the back of the room.
A commotion distracted her from creeping closer. Somewhere among the guests, Mags was saying in an insulted voice, “I have never…”
Alice’s stomach dropped toward her knees. Mary Grace scurried out of the crowd, her round face bright pink beneath her silver hair. She pulled on Alice’s arm. “We’d better go.”
Alice put down her drink. “What’s happening?”
The wedding guests parted; Kyle Jarreau appeared. He escorted Mags and Harrie in a way that might have seemed benign if Alice hadn’t noticed the grip he’d locked around their elbows.
“Honestly,” Mags was blustering, “this is absurd. Of course we were invited.” Harrie only grinned, enjoying the upset.
Alice exchanged a look with Mary Grace. She wished she hadn’t hesitated at the woman’s first warning.
Kyle stopped at the sight of her. “Alice. Not you, too?”
“I, uh, came to see the cake.”
“I came for the champagne.” Harrie held up a glass. “It’s delish.”
Kyle’s jaw tightened. “Put that down and come along. All of you.”
Mary Grace and Alice followed meekly as he marched the other two women out of the wedding reception. Once they were beyond earshot and eyesight, he dropped his hands. “Ladies. Never again, do you understand? This is your final warning.”
“Aw, hell,” Harrie said, “we didn’t harm anybody.”
“No? The management has had complaints.”
“Complaints? Why would there be complaints?” Mags said loftily. “What nonsense. I make an exemplary wedding guest.”
“Only when you’re invited.” Kyle shooed them along. “Try this again and I’ll be forced to employ security to keep you out.”
Only Alice seemed cowed. Harrie was practically capering. “Security to keep a few little old ladies out of a wedding party. What a hoot! I never heard of such a thing.”
“You’re an exceptional case.” Kyle’s scowl deepened. “Incorrigible woman.”
Alice detected a thread of humor in his tone and felt much better.
The three women went off in high spirits, no doubt to gloat to the rest of the Cocktail Shakers about being kicked out of the reception by the head honcho himself. Alice and Kyle strolled more leisurely.
“You’ve been corrupted,” he accused her.
She crossed her arms, holding on to herself. Crashing the wedding had been a small thing, but she felt different inside, as bubbly and light as the finest champagne.
“My corruption might be a good thing,” she said, ready to float away.
Was she high after one mimosa?
Kyle let the comment pass. “How did you get roped into their scheme?”
“It was what I said. I only wanted to see the cake.” Alice remembered her goopy reaction to the wedding. A blush crept into her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I mean, I’ve never done…never been the type to, you know, flout convention.”
“Never mind. You didn’t rob a bank.” He nodded toward the other women, disappearing around a corner. “I was trying to put a scare into them.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure it worked. They don’t seem to recognize my authority.”
“They are sort of undaunted.”
“You might want to keep your distance.”
“What for? I’m already corrupted.” Alice laughed. “Never fear, I can handle myself.” Which was a disingenuous thing to say when she’d almost panicked at being caught crashing the wedding. She was a boringly law-abiding citizen and probably always would be, but Kyle didn’t have to know that. “I’ve been in my share of trouble.”
“Like what? Illegal photocopying of knitting patterns?”
She inhaled with a gulp. “Ooh.” She touched him with her elbow. “Low blow.”
Kyle glanced sidelong at her. His smile came easily, creasing the corners of his eyes and making him seem less forbidding. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ve caused all sorts of mayhem in your time.”
