Page 8 of Time To Live Again

As the manager of the hotel, of course. Why does that feel like a lie?

Because it is, you ass.

“It’s okay, Donna. I’m almost finished. Her room isn’t ready yet. I’m going to show her the café.”

“Would you like me to take her?”

I open my mouth to answer as a couple arrives. Olive moves to the side to make space, and I’m relieved by their perfect timing.

“Or maybe not,” Donna adds, directing her focus to them.

“I’ll take care of Ms. Hansen. Call me if you need anything.” She nods and greets the couple.

Before I forget, I shove Olive’s paperwork into an envelope. “Here’s a copy of your invoice,” I say, handing it to her.

“Thanks.” She takes it, then slides it into the side pocket of her suitcase.

I round the counter. “Ready for the best tart of your life?” My enthusiasm might be over the top, but that’s me.

A shy grin appears. “Sure. Lead the way.” She reaches to gather her things.

“You can leave your luggage and coat here if you’d like. It’ll be safe behind the counter. May I take them?”

She nods, and I secure them in the back. Then I motion for her to go down the long hallway to the right.

As we move along, I point out where breakfast is served, the bar area, mention room service, and tell her about the spa on the other side of the inn. She nods along but doesn’t say much. Is she even listening?

To fill the silence that suffocates me, I say, “The café is a fairly recent addition to the inn. Tourists and locals from all over the island visit year-round. There’s a separate entrance for those who are only visiting the café, but we have a direct entrance from the hotel.” I motion for her to take a left. “This hallway connects the café to the inn so our guests don’t have to worry about the weather. It’s especially nice during the winter months.”

“I’ll be honest,” she finally responds. “Your hotel was the first one that popped up when I searched for somewhere to stay. I liked the home page and the photos, read some reviews, then made the reservation. So far it’s above and beyond my expectations.”

“I’m glad it grabbed your attention.” I’ll have to thank the web designer again when she comes back from vacation.

I greet an elderly couple as they pass by. They stay at the hotel every year to celebrate their anniversary. They got married here fifty years ago on December 31.

“This hotel started out more than a hundred years ago as a small, simple inn on a sizable piece of land. Over time, the hotel expanded and added more amenities. It’s much more than an inn now, but my mother’s family, the Gable family, insisted on keeping the word in the name. Despite its size, we’re committed to maintaining the same cozy, welcoming atmosphere it’s had from the beginning. If you’re interested, you’ll find a little booklet about the inn’s transformation over the years in your suite.”

Great.I sound like a tour guide, narrating the hotel’s history into a microphone for a group of tourists.Really sexy, Leo.

The café comes into view, but Olive doesn’t notice because she’s busy looking out the windows. It’s an ugly, gray day, but the grounds are beautiful even during the winter months.

She finally looks my way. “I’ll have a lot of time on my hands during my stay. I look forward to exploring the area.”

“Well, if you want to have a coffee with me while you wait for your room, I can give you some tips.” Her eyes widen.Shit.I’m totally screwing this up. I raise my hands. “No pressure, of course.”

What am I doing?She’s a guest at the hotel, and my behavior is bordering on unprofessional. I might be over-the-top friendly—my sister calls me a golden retriever—but it’s not my norm to ask guests to have a coffee with me upon arrival. She probably thinks I’m hitting on her.

Well, I am, aren’t I—in a way?

Yes, you are.

5

OLIVE

Leo wants to have coffee with me.Me!But he’s the manager! Do managers have coffee with their guests to be hospitable? Is that ethical? Do I care? No.

“Sure. I’d love to,” I say, ignoring my conflicted thoughts. I shove my hands in my pockets. “If it doesn’t take away from your job, of course.”

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