So Inn Love (8 page)

B
e careful what you wish for. It just might come true.

Those words kept echoing in my head. The night before, I’d tried to come up with some ridiculous task for Miss Crossley to send me on, and I’d invented a story.

Then she came up with something more heinous and involved than I ever could have imagined. I was stuck in her office, catching up on months of filing.

Filing. On one of the nicest days of the entire summer.

I’d started the night before and so far, had been working all morning on it. I couldn’t imagine Miss Crossley, as organized as she was, getting this far behind on anything in her life. She tried to tell me it wasn’t her fault, that the files
actually belonged to the Talbots, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. She could be one of those people who seems really put together…and then you ride in their car, and there’s junk everywhere, like change on the floor, and old fast-food bags, and random notebook pages, and dried-up shriveled French fries.

Anyway, let’s just say that
someone
hadn’t kept up with the files over the winter. Or the summer before that. Or the entire decade before that.

I’d been crouched on the floor for a long time, so I stood up to stretch my arms over my head. Then I went to the window behind Miss Crossley’s desk and looked out at the ocean.

There must have been a storm out at sea the night before—it had rained buckets here onshore—because the waves rolling in looked bigger than usual. I wondered if the swimming was dangerous—or just fun. I loved bodysurfing on days with big surf. Maybe Hayden had his hands full today. But I didn’t want to think about him, necessarily. If I started to think of him that way, as someone I was interested in,
I would end up ruining my summer. He obviously had some kind of issue, or at least he did yesterday at the beach. Maybe he was only moody, I thought. Of all the times he’d talked with me, he’d only been rude that one time. So maybe he deserved the chance to explain himself before I wrote him off completely.

“Excuse me, but what are you doing here?”

I turned from the window and saw Mr. “Uptight” Knight, my one-day housekeeping supervisor, standing in the doorway.

“I’m organizing and cleaning the office,” I said.

Mr. Knight raised his eyebrows. “You are?
You?
”

“I’m very organized,” I said.

“Yes, well, as long as there aren’t any belts to be filed, I suppose you’ll do a fine job.”

Boy. You ruin someone’s belt and some people never forgive you. It wasn’t even
that
nice of a belt, even if it was designer, and even if it cost two hundred dollars, like the guest claimed. Personally I think he was just looking to make some easy money.

“Miss Crossley does know you’re doing this, doesn’t she?” he asked.

Was he joking? “Do you think I’m doing this on my own? For fun?” I replied.

“No, I’m just surprised.” He straightened his tie. “She could have asked someone on my team.”

I decided I should try to get on Mr. Knight’s good side. Maybe he was on the outs, the least-favorite cousin, but he was still in the Talbot family. “Yes, but your, ah, clean team members are all busy doing something more important,” I said. “Keeping the guests happy. This is a lower priority.”

“And that’s where you come in,” Mr. Knight said.

“Uh…yes.” Did he have to make me sound so awful? “I’m the Inn gofer. Like a temp. Wherever they need me, that’s where I am. So this type of thing is the perfect project for me. Besides, I’ve been an office manager before.”

“You have?”

I nodded as I slid some red hanging files
into the cabinet. I didn’t tell him that the office I supposedly managed was my mother’s home office. And that I’d done it under duress, because I owed her some money, and that was the solution she came up with for me to pay it back. “Sure, I’ve been an office manager. I’ve done lots of this kind of stuff before—typing, filing, answering the phone—”

“Everything but vacuuming,” Mr. Knight said.

“Yes, that’s my motto, actually,” I joked.

He looked at me as though I’d crossed some invisible line of good taste. Still too soon to joke about the demise of the Hulk, I guessed.

Freedom! Sun! Outdoors!

I didn’t yell it out loud, but I could have as I ran back to the dorm to change into my swimsuit. Miss Crossley had told me I’d be free for a couple of hours, unless something she didn’t anticipate came up. Which it probably would, so I was rushing—she had to give me a half hour anyway, because I was pretty sure that was the law. I left my pager on my dresser and then I
practically sprinted from the dorm down to the beach.

I saw Hayden sitting atop his lifeguard chair and I really wanted to go talk to him, but I kept running. I sprinted into the ocean and dove under an incoming wave. I felt the cold water engulf me, the wave roiling the sand beneath me.

When I finally surfaced, I noticed something strange.

I seemed to be the only one in the ocean. As far as I could see, anyway. But then, it was almost lunchtime, and the place tended to clear out right around then—people headed in to take a break from the midday sun, or else they ate lunch and napped under big umbrellas.

I heard a loud shrieking whistle and looked back toward shore. Hayden was standing on the beach, his arms on his hips, a whistle to his lips. He blew the whistle again and waved his arms in the air.

Boy. He really wanted my attention. Maybe I wasn’t wrong to think he was interested in me.

I swam back toward shore, catching one
of the smaller waves and riding the crest of it to move along faster, since he looked a bit desperate. You know, some guys are like that, I thought. All you have to do is reject them once, and they decide they have to have you. Typical.

I stood up, leaned back to dunk my hair underwater, then strode out of the surf toward him. “Hey, what’s—”

“Did you
not
see the caution flag?” he asked.

“What caution flag?”

“Right there.” He pointed to a red, diagonal flag flapping in the breeze directly above his lifeguard stand. “It means no swimming.”

“Oh. Whoops. I’m sorry.” I looked up and down the beach. The water was definitely clear of people. They were all sitting under umbrellas, or lying in the sun, or playing Frisbee or volleyball. Definitely no swimming going on.

“Do you always break the rules?” Hayden asked.

“Ha!” I laughed. “No. Not
always
.”

“Seriously,” he said, with a frown to let me know he meant it.

“Seriously? Do I have to?”

“Have to what?”

“Be so serious. I’ve been stuck inside all morning, being
extremely
serious about cleaning and picking up and organizing and—after a while I just wanted to throw all the files out the window and watch them blow away in the wind.”

Hayden looked at me as if I were going insane. And maybe I had gotten a little too much cabin fever. “What files?” he asked.

“Inn files. Since the year 1900. Miss Crossley couldn’t find anything else for me to do, so she roped me into this huge straightening and tidying project.” I groaned. “I started last night, actually.”

“Hm. Funny. About last night. Weren’t you taking that writer on a tour?”

“Oh, yeah. I was.” Whoops. “After that, I mean.”

“So, would that have been before or after I saw you and Claire shrieking and running into the dorm in the middle of that downpour around seven o’clock?” Hayden asked.

He was quite the detective, wasn’t he? Why
was I so stupid? “Why? Where were you?” I said.

“In my room. It’s on the floor below yours, remember?”

I coughed. “Well, good thing we didn’t go on that bike ride. I mean, really. We’d have gotten drenched.”

Hayden folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. “Why did you make up an excuse not to go? I mean, if you don’t want to hang with me, then don’t, and just say that. It’s not like I won’t be able to
live
with that.”

His tone was suddenly not so carefree and happy. He didn’t even sound like the guy I kind of, sort of, knew.

Plus, I didn’t like the implication that he could live after being rejected by me. Maybe it was true, but I liked to think of guys slowly falling apart after I turned them down.

“Me? It’s not that I didn’t want to hang out with you,” I said. “Did I say that? No. Why would I?”

“I don’t know. But admit it, you made up some convoluted story, instead of telling me
you didn’t want to hang out.”

I thought about it for a second. I could lie, but what would be the point? “Maybe I did,” I said.

“Okay, so I
was
right.” He smiled, as if winning the argument was important.

“And you’re excited that I did this? You’re thrilled to be dissed?”

“Did I say that?” He laughed. “I just don’t get it. Why did you do that?”

“Why did I? Because! You were so rude to me when I came out here to talk to you. I had twenty bucks to share with you. Plus the writer wrote this really cool note, and you could not have cared less. You didn’t even talk to me.”

“Maybe I had a lot on my mind.”

“Sure,” I said.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know. Should I?” I asked.

“Is it totally impossible that I would have a lot on my mind? What, you think my life is easy or something?”

“Well…isn’t it?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Hm. Well, maybe you were, um, distracted.
But if you were, it seems like it had a lot more to do with all the people hanging around.”

“Exactly. All the people hanging around, in the ocean, swimming,” he said. “You think I can just take my eyes off the water because you want me to?”

Well, didn’t you, all those other times?
I thought.
At least for a second or two?
“You didn’t have to look at me—just talk to me,” I said. “Anyway, aren’t you doing that now?”

“No one’s swimming now,” he reminded me.

“Oh. Right.” I realized with a shiver that I’d gotten really cold, standing there talking to him. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and my skin was covered with goosebumps. “Except that person over there.” I pointed to an older man who was just beyond where the waves broke, doing a strong, sustained crawl motion.

“Oh, crap, that’s Mr. Anderson,” Hayden muttered, and he took off in a jog.

I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my body, then I turned around and quickly made my way over the hot sand back to the boardwalk. The caution flag should have been up for that, I thought. Hot sand that will
burn your feet—make it an orange flag, with red raging hot shooting flames painted on it.

And also maybe a caution flag for Hayden. Stay away. Trouble. They could show a guy in sunglasses with his nose covered in white zinc oxide, a big red X over his face.

“E
xcuse me. Excuse me. Miss?”

Claire and I stopped halfway up the Inn porch steps. A couple was standing to our right. “Yes?” I asked.

“Would you be able to take a picture of me and my wife?” the man asked.

“Sure, no problem.” I took the digital camera he offered and snapped several shots of the two of them, leaning against the banister. They looked like they might be wedding guests, all dressed up for the fancy evening ahead.

It was a Wedding Saturday—the first one I would experience at the Inn. The Inn was rented out for weddings almost every Saturday throughout the summer, and some Sundays, too. They were rumored to be very fun,
because nearly everyone on staff worked at them.

So, instead of teaching sailing, Claire was going to be serving dinner plates, while I would circulate with trays of appetizers and champagne. It was an “all hands on deck” situation, as Miss Crossley phrased it.

In other words, the Inn catered the wedding and hired cheap help—namely, us—to pull it off.

The dining room had been completely transformed, with elegant tablecloth fabrics, fancy decorations, flowers draped on every surface possible, streamers hung from the ceiling, and a three-tier cake on a table in the center of the room. The room was quickly filling with guests filing in from outside, where the wedding had been performed on the grassy lawn overlooking the ocean.

I couldn’t imagine a cooler place to have a wedding than here, right beside the ocean, in a classic place like this. Not that I was thinking wedding thoughts for myself, at least not for another ten years. Hopefully the Inn would
still be in business then, and hopefully my to-be-determined-at-a-later-date (or
on
a later date) fiancé would agree that this was the place we wanted to marry. And if he didn’t, I’d
make
him agree.

And that attitude, according to my mother, meant that I wasn’t even close to being ready for marriage. Which was okay with me.

Claire and I went into the kitchen—I’d only been in the main kitchen a few times—and I was really impressed by what a massive operation the place was. I left Claire and headed to find the person in charge of appetizers. Miss Crossley was, naturally, in the center of everything, giving orders, filling trays, and sending people out to circulate with them, so I stepped up and got mine.

I made my way around the dining room and out on the porch, offering shrimp puffs. I went back to the kitchen and got a new tray, this one with tiny crab cakes. Then I was recruited to help fill water glasses, and then I was carrying trays of entrees out to the dining room and holding them while others served from them,
and then I was summoned to carry pieces of cake to everyone after the bride and groom cut the wedding cake.

I was starting to wonder why everyone thought these wedding events were so much fun. I’d never worked so hard in my life. I felt like one of those Sherpas who works in the mountains, carrying everything. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t
that
difficult, but still.

The first chance I had to catch my breath was when the bride and groom had their first dance. A lot of the staff were milling about in the kitchen. I started to walk outside, thinking I’d get a breath of fresh air on the porch, if it wasn’t too crowded with wedding guests.

But before I got there, I saw C. Q. Wallace leaning against the open dining room doorway, looking in at the reception. “Weddings. What a waste of time,” he said to me as I went past.

I stopped and looked at him. He was a curmudgeon, all right, through and through. “What did you say? What are you talking about?”

“Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce,
yet people still persist in having these expensive, elaborate weddings.” He shook his head. “It’s a gamble, if you ask me.” He rubbed his glasses on the sleeve of his jacket, which he was wearing with a T-shirt, tattered jeans, and flip-flops.

“Are you married?” I asked.

He coughed. “No. Came close a few times, but thankfully, no. I was left at the altar once. Does that count?”

Bitter, party of one,
I thought. “Right. Well, if you ask me, who wouldn’t want to have a big party when they get married?” I asked.

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me that this marriage is going to last, that they’re fabulous together, yadda yadda yadda.”

“No. I don’t even know them,” I said, glancing in at the bride and groom, who were dancing with the members of the wedding party.

“Oh.” He laughed. “Well, sure, why would you?”

“But I’d say they picked a great place to get married, so they’re off to a pretty good start,” I said. I remembered something he’d told me
when we first met. “Speaking of places. You’re still here.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

I laughed. “No, I mean—you must be getting some writing done, or you would have left by now. So…are you?”

“Scads,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “No, not scads—but some. I like how laid-back this place is, during the week. This weekend wedding stuff isn’t exactly for me, so I’m heading up to my room for some peace and quiet.” He started to walk away, but then he turned back toward me. “Listen. You’re the Inn gofer, right? That’s what Miss Crossley called you. Horrible name, not to mention it’s a rodent, and you’re a girl, but as the official Inn gofer—do you think you could score me a piece of wedding cake?”

“Sure.” I smiled. “No problem. But wouldn’t that kind of be saying you approve of the wedding?”

“No, it just says I like cake and I’m opportunistic,” he said. “I’d go in and get it myself, but I’m not really dressed for a wedding.”

“It’s okay—I’ve been wanting a piece myself. Be right back,” I promised.

I walked into the dining room and grabbed two paper plates with generous-size pieces of cake—I had to take one with a blue rose frosting, because in my family getting one of the flowers on a cake is considered good luck. We usually fight over them at weddings and other events, which is kind of funny.

I was in the back hallway heading toward the stairs with the plates of cake when Hayden stepped out of the business center, in front of me, and blocked my path. “Cake for me? How thoughtful.” Hayden took the plate in my left hand.

“Actually, that’s for—”

“But let’s dance first, I love this song.” He took the other plate from me and set both of them on a chair by the window.

I hadn’t even seen him working, but he was dressed in black and white like the rest of us. “Where have you been all day?” I asked.

“Valet parking,” he said as he lifted my hands to his shoulders. He put his hands on my
waist and pulled me close. “I was done for a while so I came in to check e-mail,” he said.

“I thought this event was supposed to be all hands on deck, not all hands on Liza,” I said, trying to fight how much I was enjoying being this close to him.

Hayden laughed. “Sorry. So what were we even arguing about?”

“You know what,” I said. “You totally blew me off.”

“Me? You’re the one who made up some wacky story just to avoid seeing me,” Hayden argued as we danced back and forth in the hallway.

“I’m sorry. That was dumb, but I was trying to get back at you,” I said.

“You did. You retaliated, and now we’re even.”

“So let’s start over,” I said.

“Okay,” Hayden agreed. “We’ll start over.” We danced in the hallway, barely moving to a slow song. I felt myself kind of getting lost in the moment. “What are we starting over?” he asked after another minute went by. He took a
strand of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail and tucked it back behind my ear.

“I don’t know,” I said, a little breathless. “This?” And I closed my eyes and was about to kiss him when there was this loud ringing in my ears, like the bell that signaled the end of a boxing round. And like two boxers in a clutch, Hayden and I slowly separated.

Miss Crossley was holding the silver bell from the front desk in her palm. “You’re needed at the front desk, Liza,” she said briskly. “Caroline isn’t feeling well and has retired for the evening.”

“Too much champagne again?” Hayden joked.

“Hayden, I believe some wedding guests are in need of their car keys,” she said.

“I’m on it,” he said, and he literally sprinted away down the hall.

“Don’t I need to be trained to work at the front desk?” I asked Miss Crossley as she led me through the lobby.

“We’ll go over a few things,” she promised. “It should be no problem for a person of
average intelligence.”

She could be so warm sometimes. C. Q. Wallace stopped by the desk just as I took over. “Never got that piece of cake,” he commented.

“No. Sorry. I got, um, redirected,” I said.

“Well, gophers have a habit of losing their way. It’s a trait of the species.”

“Really?” I asked.

“No. The opposite, actually. They build elaborate tunnels. That’s how they became known as pests. And they like to be alone, one per tunnel. Which doesn’t bode well for your love life.”

I felt my face start to turn red when he said that. Love life. Did I have one, or not?
What are we starting over?
Hayden had asked.

“Why do you know so much about gophers?” I asked.

“I’ll do anything to procrastinate. I read entire books on weird subjects.” He smiled. “So, any chance at all of getting some cake around here?”

“If I can’t find any left-over wedding cake?
We’ll have a cake baked for you,” I promised as I stood up.

Miss Crossley returned just in time to overhear me. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You’re finally getting the hang of this.”