So Inn Love (6 page)

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on getting involved with Hayden,” I said.

Then again, who said you had to plan everything in life?

And how well did she know Hayden? Just because he was good-looking and sort of a flirt, that didn’t mean he’d play the field. The beach, maybe. But not the field.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said as we walked into our room. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do.”

“No, it’s okay—we’re friends. I don’t mind the advice.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I know I’m ultraconservative about everything. You must think I’m totally boring,” Claire said.

“Not at all!” I said. “We’re just kind of different, that’s all. But it’s a good different. You’re looking out for me, and I appreciate that.” Then I set to deciding which swimsuit I wanted to wear.

When I got to the beach, I found out Chelsea and I would be working together again. We were supposed to have a large group of children, but apparently a few parents had changed their minds and canceled, because we only had three kids to look after. Which was a pretty sweet ratio, if you were a kid—and made it easy for us. They were brothers, ages five, seven, and eight, and assured us they were excellent swimmers.

“We believe you, we do,” I said. “But we’re
going to hang around and swim with you, because we get hot, too, okay?”

“All right,” the oldest one groaned.

I pulled off my sweatshirt and helped Chelsea haul out the toys. We set up the kids with an assortment of shovels, buckets, levelers—everything they needed to make the biggest sand castle ever, which they’d told me was their plan.

Chelsea ran back up to the Inn to get some breakfast because she’d overslept. I was standing on the wet sand beside the kids, keeping an eye out but not interfering, when I saw Hayden, out of the corner of my eye, climbing down from his lifeguard stand. This should be good, I thought.

“So. You found the beach,” he said as he walked toward me.

“Found it just as I left it. Really sandy,” I said.

He looked me up and down, appraising my second swimsuit of the summer. (I’d brought four, which sounds excessive, but isn’t, especially when you buy them on sale.) This one
was a smallish bikini, with a bright striped pattern.

“Did you bring enough sunscreen? I have some you could borrow,” he offered.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping your eye on the water?” I commented. “People might be drowning.”

“I’m on a break,” Hayden said.

“I guess they could be newbies, so let ’em drown, right?” I teased.

“Hey, I never said that.
Hey.
”

“No, but you implied it. But if someone drowns, no problem. The new people will perform CPR,” I said.

“You know CPR?” he asked, looking impressed.

“And if there are jellyfish? The newbies will go swimming and get stung,” I went on.

“Well, probably, because you won’t notice you’re swimming with them until it’s too late,” Hayden said.

“So we’re not just new, we’re clueless now.” I nodded. “Nice.”

“Hey, I don’t think that.” He took my arm
and started to pull me toward the water. “Of course as an
old
person, I’d know better than to stand so close to the water when it’s still only sixty degrees, but…”

“Don’t throw me in.
Don’t!
” I cried, struggling to hold my ground. I dug my heels into the sand.

“Why not?” he said. “Give me one good reason—”

“Because I’ll throw
you
in,” I said. “And how would it look for the lifeguard to—hey!”

He’d grabbed my ankle and was about to lift me over his head.

“Quit it!” I said, dancing away from him.

You know how some people have chemistry? That was us. In like triplicate. To the nth degree.

I checked on the kids to make sure they were still okay—which they were. While I was talking to them, Hayden picked me up from behind.

“No fair!” I cried, pounding on his back with my fists as he spun around, twirling me with him. “Do not throw me in. Do you hear
me? I’ll come after you at night when you least expect it and—”

Over Hayden’s shoulder I noticed Caroline had come to the end of the boardwalk, but she hadn’t progressed any farther. Her sunglasses were lowered on the bridge of her nose as if she needed to get a better look at something. Or someone. Us?

What was she doing away from the reception desk, anyway? She never strayed from there—she considered herself too important to be replaced.

“And what?” Hayden asked. “Keep going.”

“I think someone wants to borrow your binoculars,” I said to Hayden. “Put me down, okay? This time I really mean it.”

“What?” Hayden asked.

I went to point out where Caroline was standing, but she wasn’t there anymore.

“Likely story. Caroline was out here?” Hayden scoffed. “I’m sure.”

“She
was
,” I insisted. “And here’s proof.” I pointed to the boardwalk, where Miss Crossley was now making an appearance. It was like a runway in a bad fashion show.

Except Miss Crossley wasn’t turning back. She marched across the sand toward me, still in her shoes, a pair of shiny brown penny loafers, which she wore with plaid Bermuda shorts and a white oxford cloth shirt.

“Liza, are you paying attention to the children?” she asked.

“Of course I am,” I said. I turned around to get Hayden to vouch for me, but he was already gone, disappeared up the steps to his lifeguard post. So much for backup.

“Where is Chelsea?” Miss Crossley demanded.

“She’ll be right back. Honestly, Miss Crossley. I was watching three kids build a sand castle, at low tide. I’ve never let them out of my sight. Right, guys?”

The kids were too busy digging to respond.

I looked back at Miss Crossley and shrugged. “You know kids, they never—”

“Is that a pierced belly button?” she asked.

Wasn’t it obvious? I could lie, and say I’d fallen on a staple or something, but what would be the point? “Yes?” I said tentatively.

“Hm. That’s against dress code policy, Liza.
No untraditional piercings.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Miss Crossley, but I never
got
all the stuff about dress code policy. I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. I’ll be happy to give you any handouts you’re missing. But Liza. Doesn’t common
sense
tell you not to pierce your belly button?”

“I guess not,” I said. “At least, not…
my
common sense,” I murmured.

“You’ll either need to cover it up or remove it,” she said.

“I’ll take it out,” I promised.

“Good. And Liza? I’m watching you.” She made this weird hand motion from her eyes to me, and back again, repeating it a few times. Not only was she sort of a taskmaster, she was nerdy, too.

No, Caroline’s watching me,
I thought as I crouched down to help the kids build their castle.
And I don’t know why, but I’ll find out.

“K
ind of slow at the front desk this morning?” I asked Caroline once I made it up to the Inn on my lunch break. Brittany had come down to the beach to relieve first Chelsea, then me.

Caroline looked up from the women’s magazine she’d been reading at her desk. “What’s that?” She was wearing the Inn uniform all of us had—polo shirt, khaki shorts—but she had a fancy silk scarf tied around her neck, to dress it up, I guess.

“Oh, I just thought I saw you on the beach a while ago,” I said. “Which was sort of odd, considering that your job is in here.”

She flipped a page of the magazine with her nicely manicured nails. “I was checking the tide. People kept asking me what the surf was
like, if there were any good waves.”

“Huh. Really,” I commented.

“Yes,” she said. “The phone was ringing off the hook with people asking.”

“Really,” I said again.

“You know, you should be wearing shorts and a T-shirt,” she said. “Inn policy. No one’s allowed in the lobby looking like that, least of all staff.”

“It’s a bikini top and a skirt. I’ll get dressed in a sec,” I promised, adjusting the big white beach towel tied around my waist, which at least covered my frowned-upon belly button ring. “This is an Inn towel, so doesn’t that count for something?”

“You’re in a bikini, so no, and it’s not a skirt,” she said. “In fact, if you wouldn’t mind stepping away from the desk? I don’t want a guest walking in to be offended.”

I stared at her. “There’s something offensive about me now?”

“No! Of course not. I just meant—you know, not everyone’s comfortable around people who aren’t dressed. That’s all,” she said.

“Uh huh.” I wasn’t buying it. I believe in being the tiniest bit blunt, when someone won’t ’fess up. “Caroline, what gives?” I asked her.

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you have against me?” I asked.

“What? Nothing.” She kept flipping through her magazine, not making eye contact with me.

“I mean, I haven’t seen you in a long time. Did I do something to offend you, the last time we hung out? I hope you’re not holding a grudge over something I did way back when,” I said.

“Of course I’m not,” she said. “I wouldn’t be that petty.”

I raised my eyebrows.
Really,
I thought.
Are you sure?

She laughed. “Look, is this because I took the front-desk job away from you?”

“That’s a whole separate issue, actually,” I said. “But no. I’m glad I have my job, even if I don’t know what it’s going to be from day to day.”

“I’d hate that,” Caroline said.

Of course you would,
I thought.
You’re too
inflexible to move around from place to place
.

Caroline also struck me as the kind of person who couldn’t stand to get her hands dirty. She’d never want to build sand castles and jump over waves with the little kids. And she’d for sure never want to have to clean someone else’s room.

Not that I wanted to do that, either.

“So why were you out on the beach a while ago as if you were spying on me? And why did Miss Crossley—who, from what I can tell, practically never leaves the building—come running out as soon as you went back inside?” I asked. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. She was on her way out when I was on my way in,” Caroline said.

I thought about that for a second. It could be true, I supposed, but it was quite a coincidence. I decided I’d wasted enough of my lunch hour on this, and I was about to step away from the desk when she said, “Liza? It’s just—you should know. Hayden and Zoe? They dated last summer. Like, very seriously.”

“Oh.” This was kind of big news to me, but
kind of not. I’d seen the way Hayden and Zoe acted around each other, sort of awkward and maybe a little annoyed. Which I could see was the way exes acted, now that I knew about it. I briefly wondered who broke up with whom, and when. No doubt Caroline was dying to tell me, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of asking. Anyway, I could get the information straight from Hayden, if I really wanted to know. And I wasn’t sure I did.

Caroline was watching me for some sort of stunned, or pained, reaction.

Instead I just shrugged. “Well, okay. What about that? I mean, why tell me?”

“I just thought you’d want to know. They were really close.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Really close,” she repeated.

I figured she was trying to say, in her Caroline way, that they’d slept together. “I don’t see how it really matters, but okay, now I know.” I shrugged. “What other news you got?”

“What do you mean?” Caroline asked.

I leaned forward on the desk. “Tell me
about Miss Crossley. Who did she date last summer?”

Caroline glared at me. “Ha ha. You think you’re so funny.”

“Come on, if you’re spilling gossip, tell me everything. In fact, who did
you
date last summer? If I don’t have the background on every single person here, I won’t feel comfortable,” I said. “I mean, this is the kind of stuff I was looking for that night at the bonfire. The dirt on everyone. But no one said anything.”

The phone rang and Caroline grabbed it on the first ring, no doubt to avoid my question. “Thank you for calling the Tides Inn, my name is Caroline, how may I assist you?” she said in a sugary-sweet tone.

She had the perfect phony voice to be answering the phone. I would never have been able to match that, so she probably did deserve the front-desk job over me.

What was Caroline so worried about? Zoe was seeing Brandon-with-a-motorcycle now, so it wasn’t as if Caroline had to look out for her best friend’s interests.

Does
Caroline
have a crush on Hayden? I
wondered. Is that why she’s being so rude to me, and why she wants me to stay away from him? Is that why she’s spying on us?

If that were true, maybe she felt like she deserved him, since she’d known him longer.

Still, I couldn’t picture her and Hayden together. He seemed too loud and adventurous and fun, and she seemed too rigid and, well, unfun.

But if she truly liked him, I could let her have him. I could wait until she got off the phone, and tell her not to worry, that Hayden was all hers and I’d keep my distance.

Except I didn’t want to do that. So I walked out of the lobby onto the back porch, stretched my arms over my head, and took a deep, satisfying breath of the fresh salty air. I couldn’t wait to get back onto the beach.

“Do you have to look so happy?”

I turned and saw a man sitting in one of the wicker chairs, near the edge of the porch. He had his feet up on the railing and a computer on his lap. He looked like he was in his forties, with slightly graying black hair, longish sideburns, and wore a loose linen shirt and jeans.

“I’m sorry?” I asked.

“You look too unbearably happy. And must you breathe so loudly? You even
breathe
happily,” he commented.

“I just really enjoy the way the air smells here.” Or, at least I
did
, I thought as I fanned the cigarette smoke away from my face. “What are those, clove cigarettes?” I asked.

“No, they’re Turkish.”

“Mm.” Cool-sounding, but still cancer-causing, I was guessing.

I remembered Miss Crossley’s instructions on our first day.
You don’t have to smoke with the guests, but you do have to offer them a light.
Fortunately, this guy didn’t need one.

“It’s impossible to concentrate around here, with so much coming and going,” he said. “And nobody told me this place would be full of children.”

I was going to point out that he shouldn’t sit on the entrance facing the beach, where everyone had to walk past, if he wanted privacy. But that seemed obvious—not to mention a little obnoxious. “I don’t know, it’s still kind of early in the season. I don’t think there are
that
many kids. What are you trying to concentrate on?” I asked.

“Writing,” he said.

“Oh. Oh!” I hadn’t recognized him at first, but of course—it was the writer Caroline had mentioned at breakfast.

“And it’s only June, and this is the sixth place I’ve stayed already this summer, and I haven’t been able to write a word at any of them. Though that’s not your fault. I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”

I laughed. “How is it my fault—like, at all?”

“It isn’t. I was just grasping at straws. Speaking of straws, here we are now.” He nodded at Daunte, who was carrying a tray toward us.

Daunte smiled at me on his way past, then set a tall glass on the table and had the guest sign the bill before heading back inside.

He grimaced as he drank it. “Horrible, awful stuff.”

“What is it exactly?” I asked.

“Quintuple espresso, on ice, with a splash of grenadine and a lemon wedge.”

The description alone was enough to turn my stomach. “And it’s bad?” I asked. “Should I get you another one? Here—let me do that. I’ll run to the kitchen,” I offered.

“No, it’s not the way it’s made. I mean, it’s supposed to taste ghastly. And it does, so I can’t complain to the bartender.”

“Barista,” I said.

“Whatever,” he said. “As long as it works, I don’t care.” He took another gulp and made a face. “Something has to work. Or else I’ll have to pack, again, and move to yet another hotel for inspiration.”

“How would moving help? I mean, how do you know this
isn’t
the right place to write your next book? It could be the perfect spot, if you just give it a chance.”

“Your optimism is tedious. But I’ll take it.” He looked over at me. “What’s your name?”

“Liza.”

He reached over to shake my hand. “C. Q. Wallace.”

I wanted to ask what the C. Q. stood for, but I decided that would be rude. If a person
chose to go by his initials, there must be a reason—probably that he didn’t like his name. Anyway, I could get the information out of Caroline later. If she was still speaking to me.

“You work here?” he asked.

“No, I just offered to run to the kitchen for you because I’m such an optimist,” I said.

He laughed and lifted his coffee cup. “Touché.”