Page 45 of Always Be an Us

“Landing likes modern, exclusive-looking getaways and this looks like anything but. The new design can give off that Old-boy lodge minimalism that's all the rage these days. Market it as a forest retreat for his rich country club friends, with a beautiful lakeside view.

“A bed and breakfast for the elites. Open a gourmet restaurant on the first floor, so they don’t have to deal with the pisspoor beer and burgers." I smile at the memory, but Dad doesn’t notice. He’s scratching his chin in thought, but his eyebrows are still furrowed.

"I don’t know," he says. "Part of the appeal and the charm of the hotel is in its historic nature. Getting rid of that…"

"I think it already lost its historic appeal," I say firmly. "There are no Pink Pearls or Rainbow Pearls there anymore. I’m not even sure they exist."

"Oh they exist," he says. "There's too many first-hand accounts to doubt it."

"Fine." I don't feel like arguing with my dad about just how unreliable first-hand accounts can be. "But they certainly aren't around anymore so at this point, they might as well be a myth. Landing and his friends are probably too old to believe in fairy tales anyway, but we can still sell the rumor of the robbery. It's a fascinating tale, true or not. We'll make an entire room dedicated to telling the story and maybe keep some of the most treasured artwork there."

My dad's eyes light up. "I like that idea."

"Thought you might," I say.

"Let's table that while we both think about it." He takes a sip of his chardonnay. "On the other hand, how’s my granddaughter?"

"She’s doing fine. She's with her mother in Paris as we speak. She sent me a message right as she landed."

"Ah. Paris is lovely this time of year."

"She didn't want to go," I admit. "She wanted to stay in Laketown."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's determined to find a Rainbow Pearl before she leaves. She's obsessed with them, all thanks to that book you got her. She’s also obsessed with the mystery of the missing Pink Pearl and is determined to be the one who cracks it."

"There she goes. Our little detective." My father chuckles but before he can say anymore, there's a knock from the door behind us.

We turn around and a tall, familiar-looking man leans on the doorway in his suit. Red hair is curled wildly over mischievous green eyes that glint as he grins at us.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says. "But they told me I could find you gentleman here."

"Of course. Marcus." I meet my father's gaze as he continues. "You know Landing's son, Marcus, don’t you?"

"Not sure," I murmur, although he looks familiar. And then, as he walks up to us and I catch a whiff of his Dior Sauvage, I place him suddenly. Images flash in my mind of a charity gala, during which my daughter and I walked up on him pressed against a waitress in the hallway with his hand up her skirt.

Displeasure immediately skitters under my skin.

I managed to block Amelia from seeing most of what was going on at the time, but it didn't stop her from asking questions on the way home.

I've wanted to punch the guy out ever since.

And the bastard has the nerve to smile at me now. "Yes, we’ve met a few times. Although, I wish it were under much better circumstances. I'm Marcus Landing by the way."

He extends his hand, and I only spare it a look before I rise, studiously ignoring his extended hand.

"I need to leave now," I tell my dad. "Or I'll be late for my meeting."

My dad frowns, but I'm too old for his displeasure to move me anymore. I leave with his protests at my back.

It's dark after the flight and an hour's drive back to Laketown.

I'm exhausted, but I don't go back to the hotel I've called home for the past week.

Instead, I drive a few minutes away from the hotel to a little cottage by the lake.

I tell myself I'm only coming to make amends. I don't like how we left things, the weird tension that was between us. I don't like that Emma thinks I called her a child.

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