She kept working. “Most people around here aren’t,” she said. They did work in a hotel, after all.
“If Hans weren’t married, shoot, I think he would’ve been really into that guy. Laughed at all the guy’s jokes like he was a celebrity.”
“Is that right?”
Thomas slapped the counter again. “Oh, I see. Liddy’s suddenly too good to listen to gossip. Why didn’t you just say so?”
Liddy leaned her head back and let out a sigh. “Thomas, I’m exhausted. Didn’t sleep well last night and I have to be here when I’d rather be curled up at home.” The phone on her desk rang and she brushed Thomas’s hand away before he could answer it. “This is Liddy. How may I help you?”
“Good morning, Liddy. It’s Beau. Not a good time?”
Her scowl vanished. “No, no. It is.” Thomas backed away from her then, watching her with curious eyes, but she swiveled her chair away from his gaze. “How are you this morning?”
“Great. Although I’m concerned that you may be cold out there today by the water.”
“Oh? Actually, it’s no cooler than usual.”
“Glad to hear it, since you left your coat in the back of my car last evening.”
Hmm. Yes, she had. Not on purpose, of course. They had played musical cars last evening, leaving hers in the church parking lot while they went to Beau’s home for pizza. By the time she realized she had left her coat behind, Liddy had already started up her car after Beau had dropped her off. She could have flagged him down again, but how silly would that have been? Besides, would it be so bad if she had left behind a little motivation?
“Oh, thanks so much for worrying about me,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe bring it to church next time?”
“Or I could take you to lunch today. Are you busy?”
“No, I’m free.” And suddenly quite energetic, too. “But I don’t have a lot of time. Would you like to eat at the hotel restaurant?”
“It’s a date.”
They decided on a time and Liddy hung up the phone, fairly fixated on the fact that Beau had used the word “date.”
* * *
Unfortunately, all resemblance to an actual date left the building the moment the chef could be heard shouting at the kitchen staff in a foreign language. From her vantage point at a window-side table, Liddy counted one-two-three staff members emerging from the kitchen in long, harried strides.
“Wow,” Beau said, taking another roll from the basket. “You didn’t say anything about a show with our lunch.”
“Try working here every day.”
He chuckled. “You live a charmed life, Liddy. What language is that, by the way?”
“Hmm. I think it’s a hybrid between Italian and Spanish. Ital-span?”
Beau laughed his deep, hearty laugh and they finished up their salads—the steak salad for him, the Caesar with shrimp for her—and emptied the basket of rolls. Liddy fiddled with her napkin, aware that the dining room had grown quiet again with so many ears tuned to the kitchen.
She gave Beau a worried glance. “I really am sorry about this.”
He smiled. “Don’t be. I should be thanking you, since most of my Mondays are usually rather boring.”
“Thanks.”
“But I did want to ask you something. Would you like to go on a real date with me this weekend?”
She peered at him. “What do you call pizza last night?”
“I’d call that supper.” He smiled and paused, eyeing her, as if watching for her reaction. “Liddy, I would like to take you to dinner at a French restaurant on Saturday night. Go with me?”
He asked her, not in a timid way, but with a confidence that she would say yes. Not that he was cocky, just downright forward and sexy, causing butterflies to brush at every one of her nerve endings. She wanted to lunge across the table and kiss him, but she managed to hold it together. (After all, the chef could be carrying a knife …)
She agreed to their “official” date, and walked him out to his car in the parking lot, the air awash with the ocean’s touch. He reached into the back seat and pulled out her coat. “You don’t want to forget this,” he said, draping it around her, then rubbing the fleshy part of her shoulders to warm them up. He made no move to close up the inches between them.
Liddy, however, couldn’t wait. Or she wouldn’t. Whatever. She pulled him toward her, asking if she could give him a “garlic kiss.”
And didn’t wait for his answer.
* * *
How long had Beau been staring at this screen? How far had his eyes wandered down the rows of data before he realized his brain had not engaged with any of it? Beau sat back in his office chair, stretching his arms over his head and linking his hands together.
Liddy had kissed him. Lightly, but brazenly. Right there in the parking lot. He couldn’t get the taste of her out of his head. Dr. Buchold—an avid sailor with a boat in the harbor and his client—had ridden his bike through the hotel parking lot just as it was happening. And Beau knew … if not for that little interruption at the moment Liddy’s lips had grazed his, he might have crushed her to him in wide open daylight. As it was, it took monumental effort for him not to do a cartwheel on the pavement once Liddy and the good doctor had each rounded the building, out of his sight.
“Well, that’s some goofy grin on your face.” Jill hustled into Beau’s office. “I take it you’ve come up with some drop-dead amazing marketing plan for Seaside Medical Group?” She dropped a stack of messages on his desk.
He shifted his eyes toward that stack, then to his assistant. “I’m still mulling.”
“Mulling, huh? Been a lot of that lately.” Never one to ask for an invitation, Jill took a seat in the chair across from his desk. “Business has never been better, though, so I guess you can’t complain.”
He unhooked his hands and pulled himself closer to the desk. “I’ll say. As you know, I’m booked with appointments for the rest of the week. Lots of reputations to represent out there in the medical community.”
She gestured toward the messages she’d left on his desk. “And even more in that stack. Doesn’t leave you a lot of time for … mulling.”
He knew Jill well and she was prying. In her own way, of course—ever since he had begun working for this company as a new recruit. When he purchased the company from the man who had started it years earlier, Jill stayed with him. He always admired the way she could adjust to bullet-fast changes in the industry.
Yet he often cringed inside at the way she could read him. She would peck at him, like a mother hen, until she uncovered what she believed to be true.
He grabbed the wad of messages. “Guess I had better attempt to call some of these folks back before my next meeting,” he said, trying to deflect her fixation on the word “mulling.” Surely she read more into his statement than he was willing to divulge.
Jill nodded. “You should. Especially the one from Wendy.”
Beau raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She stood and leaned against the door frame, her mouth frowning, her voice coaxing. “Let her down easy, Beau.” She turned and walked away, her stride clipped, almost formal. With a sigh, Beau picked up the phone.
Chapter 14
The afternoon began innocently enough. After lunch, Liddy wandered back into work to finish out her day. Adrenaline from Beau’s company—and the kiss—kept her going until late afternoon.
Then about an hour before she was due to leave the inn, Hans called together the concierge staff, including bellmen, valets, and others, for a meeting in the conference room. The bell captain would cover all three desks.
Thankful for some time away from the frenetic pace of guest services, Liddy strode into the conference room and took a seat at the large oval table next to Trace, who had just arrived. There was water and donuts for everyone. Yes to the water, but no thank you to the sugar-encrusted fat pills.
Hans arrived with several thick binders, which he slid onto the table. “Pass these out
. There aren’t enough to go around, so share with the person next to you.”
“What are they?” one of the bellmen wanted to know.
“SOP binders. Standard operating procedures.”
One of the valets whistled. “Exciting stuff.”
Laughter punctuated the airspace in the room.
“All right, enough of that,” Hans said. “We’re going to crack open these babies and read through each of the points. That way no one can come back to me and say they don’t know proper procedures around here.”
Laughter turned to groaning. If Hans didn’t hurry, he’d have a room full of defectors soon.
Liddy breathed in a deep pocket of air and pulled her shoulders back. So many people in the room. She looked over at the binder open in front of Trace, but the words were so tiny. Why would their boss use such a small font?
Two more staff members slid into their seats, filling the room to capacity. Liddy rolled up her sleeves. The room was becoming so warm.
She glanced at the others. No perspiration on foreheads anywhere, or people fanning themselves. Instead, yawns and expressionless faces surrounded her. Liddy turned back toward the binder, her eyes narrowing as she tried to focus on the page. Was this the beginning of a headache? She pressed a finger to her temple, willing away the start of the uncomfortable sensation.
One more hour, one more hour …
Hans was pointing down the line of employees, expecting everyone to participate in this read-a-thon. They were all in second grade, going around the circle during reading time. One guy read, then another, and then a front desk clerk. Trace was up next.
Liddy fought to keep her head upright. Her peripheral vision was nearly lost, crowded out by a whammy of pressure along the outer edges of her eyes. When was the last time …?
The room began to spin at the recollection of the last time Liddy had experienced another odd and unwelcome sensation. The doctor had called them focal seizures, and she’d had them for months before realizing what they were. Barbed fingers of fear threaded through her. Surgery was supposed to have ended them forever.
Trace began to read.
“Excuse me,” Liddy said, abruptly pushing away from the table. She stood, ignoring the sudden upward dart of chins and what sounded like a murmur as she climbed over feet to get out of the room.
Outside of the meeting room, Liddy dashed down the hall toward her desk, where her purse lay hidden in a drawer. Hannah barely acknowledged her from her perch across the lobby. Dizziness threatened to undo Liddy. She pulled a bottle from her purse, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed one small pill with her spit. Breathe, Liddy, breathe.
As the pill, leftover from the days in between her diagnosis and subsequent surgery, slid down her throat, the chatter of her heartbeat began to calm. The tension near her temples lessened. She glanced around, relieved to find the lobby still empty and the bell captain thoroughly captivated by something on her iPhone screen.
Carefully, Liddy tucked the half-empty bottle of pills back into her purse and made a mental note to have her anti-seizure meds prescription refilled before it expired.
* * *
She left work early Friday afternoon, and after a stop at the mall, arrived home in plenty of time to get ready for her date with Beau. The little black dress, or LBD as Meg would call it, might be a staple for every woman’s wardrobe, but Liddy had never actually owned one until today. She had hoped it would hug her curves in the way that it should, but she had lost weight since the surgery, and as she looked herself over in the mirror she felt more like a hanger with fabric draped over it than a woman with hips and breasts.
She frowned. He would be here at any second. Maybe another perspective? With little hope, Liddy grabbed a second dress from her closet, dashed out her door, careful to note first whether Beau had arrived. She looked left, then right. He had not, so she stepped across the landing and knocked on the door across from hers. Her neighbor Brandon worked odd hours mostly, so she rarely saw him. But she knew he drove an Audi and wore suits, so he must have taste.
The door opened and a willowy blonde wearing turquoise heels and a slightly bad attitude assessed her. “Hey,” Liddy said. “I was looking for Brandon, but maybe you’ll help?” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Liddy, Brandon’s neighbor, by the way.”
The woman shook her hand, her eyes so narrowed Liddy had second thoughts about whether Brandon’s friend would give her an honest opinion.
“This may sound weird but … I have a date tonight.” Liddy looked over her shoulder and back again. “That’s not the weird part.”
The woman snickered just as Brandon appeared behind her. “Hey, Liddy.”
Liddy’s cheeks were growing warm. Maybe this was stupid. “Hey, yourself. I just met your … ”
Brandon put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Business partner.”
The woman scowled so delicately that Liddy couldn’t help but admire her. To be that beautiful when screwing up your face, well, not everyone could attain it. Brava.
Brandon laughed. “Kidding. This is my girlfriend, Felicity.” He brought her limp hand to his mouth and gave it a kiss, all the while watching her with wide, upturned eyes. He wrapped her arm around his waist and kissed her ear.
She wanted to say “never mind” and zip back into her own apartment, but they both stood in front of her with looks of well? on their faces, so she inhaled and let it out. “I’m just wondering what you think of this dress I’m wearing.” The statement came out like a question and she realized she was nervous. A man with good looks, charm, faith, and gainful employment wanted to take her to a fancy restaurant, and suddenly she had no idea how to behave, let alone what to wear. The fanciest place Shawn ever took her to had parts of dead animals on the walls and served steak with prices ending in ninety-nine. She hadn’t had many reasons to dress up in a long, long time.
She held up the second choice to get their opinions. “We’re going to a French place and—I don’t know—something’s just not right.”
Both of Brandon’s brows tilted downward until she wondered if he could see. His lips hung in mid part.
Felicity, on the other hand, was all over it. She shook her head at the dress on the hanger. “No, forget about that one. Follow me.”
Liddy ducked into her neighbor’s home, noting the plush white carpet that stretched across the floor’s width. She sunk into every step. If this were her place, she’d never use the couch.
“Here,” Felicity said as she emerged from a bedroom and began to wrap a belt around Liddy’s waist. She stood back. “Yes, that helps. And put these on. They’ll sparkle beneath your hat.” She handed Liddy gorgeous silver earrings that shimmered under the lights.
“Oh. These are spectacular.” Liddy glanced up at her new best friend. “Are you sure?”
Felicity leaned forward, enclosing the earrings in Liddy’s hand. “Trust me. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
Though she would never admit it out loud, Felicity’s words were her aim: to make it perilously difficult for Beau to take his eyes off of her. There was a recent time when, at least somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she believed this not too difficult a task. But that was before the divorce, and the surgery, and all the hats, which covered up all kinds of evidence. Her hair had grown in dark and lush, and though it was still very short, she could—maybe—be persuaded to remove the hat sometime soon.
But not yet.
She thought about all this back at her apartment while admiring Felicity’s earrings in the little mirror posted by the front door. Beau was nearly ten minutes late, but she couldn’t complain. If he had been on time at church that first night they’d sat together, would she ever have met him? Punctuality, she had decided, was not a deal breaker.
Her doorbell rang. In the evening’s fading light, Beau dazzled her in a navy cashmere sport coat and collared shirt, while wearing a smile that made her forget whatever it was that had thrown her into a tizzy only minutes before.<
br />
* * *
Beau gestured with his fork to the “petit plat” on the table displaying various starters. “Bone marrow?” he offered.
Liddy scrunched her nose. “I believe I’ll stick with the artichoke. Thank you, though.”
He laughed and speared some for himself. She was cute and laughed easily. Any stress over whether this French country bistro was the right choice for their first official date had dissipated. The food was fancy, but the atmosphere was not. He hated stuffy. Something told him she did, too.
“It’s beautiful in here,” she said.
Those big brown eyes captivated him. You’re beautiful, he thought. “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “I’ve always thought this place had character without being over the top.”
“Always thought so, huh? You come here often, then?”
Beau held back a smirk. She left off “with other women.” She was tricky, that one. He appreciated that. Not that he’d let her get away with it. He pointed toward the appetizers. “Try the escargot.”
She ignored his invitation, and instead watched him with a wide-open expression while demurely eating her artichoke. Not an easy task.
The waiter arrived with their salads and Beau poured them each some wine. They discussed their favorite movies—chick flicks for her, dramas for him—and the types of music they preferred—eclectic offerings of country and pop for her, mostly jazz for him (he’d have to show her the light). So far they had both avoided talk about their previous relationships. At least he did, and he suspected her of doing so as well. Then again, they had pretty well covered those topics previously. Tonight, he hoped, could be about them—what they wanted, who they each were.
Sometimes he wondered if he still knew the answers to those questions about himself.
Their salad plates were cleared and for a moment a lull fell between them. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. They immersed themselves in the silence, sneaking glances at each other in between sips of their drinks. He enjoyed taking it slow.
Walking on Sea Glass Page 12
