Elle could see the helipad come into view. Several people and a fuel truck mingled at the edge of the helipad. She was worried about the craft touching down in the wind, but Ricky smoothly set them down on the tarmac.
Several folks ran towards the helicopter and one opened the side door. Wind gushed in and chilled Elle to the bone.
“We need to get you a better coat,” Marcy said.
“This one is fine.”
“Ms. Richey, welcome to Dancer Island. Let me take your bag,” one of the men said, leaning into the helicopter.
“Room 236,” Marcy told him. The man grabbed the bag and headed towards the building.
Elle climbed out of the helicopter, followed by Marcy. “Let’s go,” she said, guiding Elle to the lodge.
The lodge was warmer than the outside. If Elle didn’t go anywhere, she would be fine. The inside looked like it was lifted from the pages of Architecture Digest. There was a large open lobby with a desk off to the side. A large chandelier lit up the room and the roaring floor to ceiling fireplace provided warmth.
The woman behind the desk gave her a small wave.
“Helen,” Marcy said walking over to the desk. “This is Miss Richey. She will be here for the production.”
“Pleasure to have you here. If you have any questions, I’m here to help. I hope you enjoy your stay.” She handed Elle a portfolio.
“Thank you, Helen,” Elle said. The portfolio was made from leather and it had her name embossed in the corner in gold lettering. “Is this for me?” She flipped open the portfolio. Inside was a room key and some papers.
“Yes. Everyone on the production staff has one. That’s your itinerary for the next few days. Dancer is going to start filming next week. The couples are arriving today and tomorrow. Orientation is Thursday. The rest of the day is for you to get settled in. There is also a credit card so you can purchase some items during your stay. I believe it is preloaded with ten thousand dollars. You can secure transportation to any of the islands from the front desk.”
Ten thousand? Elle about fainted.
“Your room is 236, just up those stairs. The restaurant is through those doors. The rooms have internet, but there is a private work room down here that is soundproof if you need quiet.” Marcy took a deep breath. “I know I’m forgetting something, but you probably need to rest. My number is inside that portfolio in case you need to reach me.”
“Th-thank you, I think.”
Marcy laughed. “It can be a little overwhelming but remember to call me or Helen if you have any questions.”
Marcy waved and disappeared back towards the helicopter. Elle took the steps and located the placard pointing to her room. Underneath it there was another placard announcing the artwork down the hall was from the gallery of Vixen Holliday.
Elle walked down the hallway, admiring the paintings until she reached her room. She’d have to look more closely when she wasn’t so tired.
She got to the door and went to put the key in the lock, but there wasn’t one. She tried the door. But the handle didn’t move. She wasn’t sure what to do and she didn’t want to go down to the desk to ask Helen how to get in her room.
A man brushed behind her. “My apologies, Miss,” he said. Elle turned and looked into the eyes of a dark-skinned Santa Claus. He was dressed in a Victorian velvet Santa suit with fur trim and gold cords.
He continued past her. “Santa,” Elle called after him. The man came back. “This is going to sound really stupid, but…”
“You can’t get into your room?” His voice was smooth. A perfect voice to comfort screaming kids in a shopping mall.
Elle laughed. “Exactly.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Claus and I had the same trouble. Here,” he said, taking the card from Elle. “See this small circle?” Elle noticed that there was a gold ring in the wood next to the door. “Just place it up against that.”
The door clicked and swung open.
“I would never have gotten that. Thank you.” She held out her hand. “I’m Elle Richey. Are you one of the contestants on the show?”
The man nodded and shook her hand. “I’m John Herrington from Minnesota. My wife is Lisa.”
“Minnesota? You should be used to the cold.”
“It is not colder than Minnesota, but it certainly has more wind.”
“Thank you, Santa John. I appreciate the help.”
“My pleasure Miss Richey,” he responded and returned to his room down the hall. Elle made a note to write down his details in the notebook she carried.
She pushed open the door and walked into the suite. It was unlike any hotel she had ever been in. She was expecting a bed, and instead there was a sitting area with a brown sofa and two brown recliners. A flat television hung on the wall and there was a small desk in the corner.
Her bag rested against one of the chairs.
There was a small kitchenette, but all it appeared to contain was a counter, a refrigerator and some bar utensils. Elle opened the refrigerator. It was stocked with fruit, an assortment of bottled juices and waters and several bottles of liquor. The bottom shelf even had its own wine rack.
She grabbed an apple from the bowl and a bottle of water and munched as she looked around the rest of the suite. She drew aside the curtain letting light into the room. A huge picture window was revealed overlooking the mountains in the distance.
There was a door to the left and Elle entered to a large sleeping area with a king size sleigh bed and a dresser. She ran her fingers along the comforter. It was a duvet and she pushed on it, feeling the down shift under her fingers.
The bathroom was off to the side and Elle nearly dropped her apple.
It was nearly as large as the bedroom. There was a sunken tub with gold fixtures. Fresh flowers graced the corner of the tub, along with several flameless candles.
The vanity contained two sinks with a huge mirror surrounded by recessed lighting. The toilet was behind its own door. A small cabinet contained plush towels and two luxurious bath robes. They were embossed with Holliday Island Resorts Dancer Island on them. Elle traced the red embroidery.
Elle was tired. A hot bath and some dinner would fix her right up. She returned to the kitchen to dispose of her apple core and picked up her bag, placing it on the bed.
She dug through the bag until she found her oversized sleep shirt and pants. They looked cheap next to the comforter. Tomorrow she’d get a new pair from the shopping island. Which one was that? Donner.
She started her bathwater and noticed there was a phone next to the tub. Who talks on the phone while bathing? Apparently rich people, she thought.
She lifted up the phone. “How can I help you, Miss Richey?” the voice asked.
“I was just wondering if there was room service?”
“Yes ma’am. Miss Gable ordered your dinner and it should arrive at your door around 5:30.” Elle looked at her watch. That was just over an hour.
“Thank you.”
“Is that all, Miss?”
“Marcy… I mean Miss Gable mentioned about transportation going to the other islands?”
“Yes ma’am. Which Island would you like to go to?”
“The one with the shops.”
“You have an appointment at Comet Island tomorrow afternoon.”
“I do?”
“Yes ma’am. Miss Gable made it for two o’clock. There is a boat that leaves for Donner Island at nine o’clock or you can take a helicopter over anytime. From there the helicopter will take you to Comet Island in time for your appointment.
“Thank you. I’ll take the boat ride.”
“Yes ma’am. Would you like breakfast sent to your room tomorrow morning?”
“That would be incredible.”
“Traditional breakfast or continental?”
“Traditional.”
“It will be delivered at seven a.m.”
Elle hung up the phone and returned to watch the water fill up the tub.
As sh
e looked around at all the luxury, she asked herself, what I have gotten myself into?
Chapter 7
Elle arrived at Donner Island at ten o’clock. She disembarked from the yacht and walked down the gangway into a covered terminal. There was a sign that pointed to the shops and Elle followed the crowd.
As she approached, she noticed her name on a lit-up board just at the shop entrance. Elle walked to the counter below the sign.
“Good morning, I noticed my name on the board up there.”
“And you are?”
“Elle Richey.”
“Welcome, Miss Richey. Let me get your personal shopper.” She picked up the phone and spoke softly into the receiver.
An older woman with soft features approached her. “Miss Richey. I’m Lydia. I’ll be your personal shopper today. Let’s go into my office and chat about what you are looking for.” Elle followed the woman down a corridor into a small office. There was a desk, a table and three chairs in the room.
“What will you be doing during your stay?”
Elle shifted in her seat. “I’m hosting a reality show on Dancer Island.”
“The costume designer will take care of your clothes for the show. You will probably have dinners and receptions. Do you prefer slacks or dresses?”
“Slacks.”
“Sweaters or blouses?”
“Uhm… I don’t know.”
“We can figure that out.”
“Lydia, I just need a pair of pajamas.”
Lydia smiled. “We can take care of that as well.”
Elle’s head was still spinning as she stepped in front of the mirror. She didn’t even look like the same woman. She sported a pair of soft crepe black pants and a red sweater that enhanced the natural red highlights in her hair.
Lydia came back with both a pair of black heels and flats. “Try the heels first,” she said, placing the shoes on the floor. Elle stepped into the shoes and they made her back appear straighter and enhanced her back end, not that anyone would be looking at that.
Elle slipped on the flats and turned in the mirror. The heels were better. Lydia was moving clothes around and hanging them on different racks.
Displayed before her were more clothes than she had ever owned in her life. Pants, two dresses, several blouses, sweaters in red and green, shoes, undergarments and even new silky pajamas.
“Am I within my budget?” Elle asked.
“There are no budgets here, Miss Richey. Your account is covered. Let me get these wrapped up for you.”
“I’ll get changed and then I’ll head out.”
“Why don’t you wear that outfit? You look lovely in it.”
“Can I do that?”
“Of course.” Lydia snipped the tags and added them to the pile of articles she couldn’t hang up.
“Should I just wait here?”
“I think we are done. I’ll have your packages sent back to your room. You can look through the store. Maybe do some holiday shopping? Your coat will be waiting for you at guest services on your way out.”
Elle doubted she would be able to afford anything. Even this simple pair of black pants was over $600. But as Pierre said, it never hurts to look and dream. Lydia must have sensed her hesitation. “You should have received a card when you arrived. You may use that to make any purchases.”
Elle nodded. Picking up her purse, she headed out into the shops.
Apparently, the clothing store was just one of many shops available to her. She wandered through several of the shops picking up items and putting them back down.
She found a coffee café and purchased a cup of hot chocolate with a bit of vanilla and cinnamon to sip while she wandered until the time for her hair appointment.
Spying a men’s perfumery, she went in hoping to identify that cologne that the man in the elevator wore.
“May I help you, Miss?” a man in a sharp suit asked.
“No thank you, just browsing.”
She looked at the displays of colognes and started picking them up, sniffing at the spritzers. The man behind the counter coughed lightly. Elle’s attention went to the sticks he was holding towards her.
“When you sniff the bottle all you are smelling is the alcohol.” He took one of the white strips, sprayed the bottle Elle was holding and then waved it in the air for a few moments. “Now try.”
Elle lifted the paper to her nose. It was totally different than straight from the bottle. “That is lovely.” She dropped the used paper in the container on the counter marked for the used slips.
“Is there is a specific scent you are looking for?”
“There was a man who was wearing the most wonderful cologne. I just don’t know what it is called.”
“Can you recall the layers? What scents did you uncover as you breathed it in?”
“It was like flowers, and fruit in the middle of the forest on a rainy day. Does that make sense?”
The man directed her towards a display in the back of the store. “These are our higher end scents. Let’s see if we can figure it out.”
They sprayed and sniffed several scents. Elle lifted a jar of coffee beans to her nose between scents so she wouldn’t confuse the scents. It was on the tenth one that Elle recognized the scent from the elevator.
“This is it.”
“Ah yes, Creede Adventus. Shall I wrap it for you?”
“Yes, please.” Even if she didn’t have anyone to gift it to, she’d open it up herself on Christmas morning.
He pulled a bottle of cologne from the drawer and returned to the counter. “That will be three hundred and fifty-seven dollars.”
Elle swallowed. She was expecting sixty, seventy dollars max. Something she could put on her credit card. How silly that she was even thinking of buying a bottle of cologne simply because it reminded her of a man in the elevator.
She nodded and reached in her bag for the credit card that was provided upon arrival. She’d pay the bill with her first paycheck.
Her purchase completed, she picked up her cup and headed back into the shopping plaza. Her head was down as she tried to juggle the cup and the bag in her hand. She didn’t see where she was going until she ran into a brick wall, popping the top from her cup and spilling her hot chocolate everywhere.
“Watch…”
“I’m so sorry…”
Elle looked up and inhaled. She was staring into the pair of deep brown eyes that had haunted her dreams.
“It’s you,” she said.
“Elle!” His eyes flew up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Elle rooted in her purse, pulling out a small pack of tissues. “Let me clean that.”
He laughed, a deep rich sound that pierced her heart. “Do you have a habit of doing this to every man you meet?”
Elle gave a nervous laugh. “Only with you. You are honestly the only person I’ve ever spilled something on.”
“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” he took the tissue and blotted his jacket. It was dark so apart from looking wet, no one would be able to tell something spilled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“I have a meeting. I think the question is what are you doing here?”
“I’m starting a new job. I just took a break to come over to look around.”
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said quietly, tossing the dirty tissue in the trash can outside the store.
“Me either.”
He looked at his watch. “I have to get to this meeting. I’m already a few minutes late. But would you like to have dinner with me?”
Elle smiled. “I would love to.”
“Great. Where are you staying?”
“I’m on the island over there.” She pointed in a random direction.
“Why don’t we meet at Blitzen Island. There is a really nice steakhouse there and we can catch up.”
“What time?”
“How about six o’clock.”
Elle nodded
. Dan leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait to see you.”
Elle watched him continue down the line of shops and disappear around a corner. “Me, too,” she whispered.
She dropped her now cold chocolate into the trash and ran back to the plaza entrance to see if she could find Lydia.
Chapter 8
Elle looked around the entrance to the restaurant. She could barely see inside the dark interior. She draped her coat over her arm and rubbed her hand over the mohair fabric.
“You look stunning.”
Elle twirled around, nearly losing her balance in her new heels. She felt beautiful. After Dan left, she and Lydia picked out several dress choices for dinner, finally deciding on a shimmery pantsuit with a flesh colored lining and a plunging neckline.
At the salon, she had her hair trimmed and colored. Her hair now sported golden highlights throughout, and her makeup was on point.
If Pierre could see her now!
She lifted her cheek as Dan reached down to press a kiss against her forehead.
“Your table is ready, sir,” the maître d’hôtel came over to let them know.
Elle’s back burned where Dan put his hand to guide her through the dimly lit interior. They weaved through tables until they were seated in a private area next to a large window.
The maître d’ took Elle’s jacket and she slid into the seat. “Champagne?”
“That would be fine,” Dan said, not taking his eyes from Elle.
Once they were alone, Dan reached over and took her hand. “I really can’t believe you are here.” Elle gave a quick squeeze. “Tell me what’s happened over the last few weeks.”
“You know, avoiding my adoring public, wallowing in self-pity, so I’d rather not.” She looked around the room. The rest of the restaurant was filled, but the area they were in was empty. “Is this a private room?” she asked.
“Private room for very special guests.”
“How do you get a room like this?”
“I know the owner,” he laughed.
The maître d’ returned to the table with a wine chiller and two glasses. He placed them down and filled the glasses.
Dancing To The Altar (Holliday Islands Resort Book 2) Page 6
