by Mary Davis
Dillon stepped out of Steve’s bathroom the next morning to find a sleepy-eyed Steve approaching the door. Steve surveyed him in his charcoal suit. “I suppose you’re all packed, too.”
“I’ll be out of your hair in thirty seconds. Thanks for letting me stay here.” He dropped his shaving kit into his overnight bag and zipped it closed.
Steve’s mouth stretched into a wide yawn. He shook it free. “We have a meeting with the big guy at eight, right?”
“Yes. See you there.” He picked up his bags and headed out the door.
He knocked on his apartment door and waited, but Aimee didn’t answer. She was probably sleeping late if she stayed up to watch one of the movies after he left. He would sneak in quietly, drop off his bags, and leave her a note to come find him.
When he entered, the place was quiet and dark, the bedroom door closed. He hung his suit bag from a floor lamp in the living room to keep his suit from getting wrinkles and set down his other bag. He pulled out a sheet of paper from the drawer by the phone. After penning his note to have her go to the front desk to have him paged, he left for his day’s work.
As he crossed the lobby to head for his office, he stopped short and stared at Aimee talking to the assistant general manager. Please, Lord, let her hold her tongue.
Maybe he could defuse any brewing trouble. He approached them. “Mr. Howard, good morning.”
Mr. Howard in a light gray suit and red tie had small squinty eyes on an almost symmetrically round head. He styled his thinning dark hair combed to one side. “Dillon, just the man I wanted to see.”
He hoped it was for a good reason and not an “Aimee” reason.
Mr. Howard continued, “I’ve just hired this young lady to be your assistant for the Lilac Festival.”
“You what?” Shouldn’t that have been his own responsibility to choose an assistant?
“You were saying that you needed help?”
“Yes, I was.” But I didn’t want you to hire a stowaway who wants to find buried treasure in the floor of the hotel.
“Her name is Aimee Mikkelson.”
“Ms. Mikkelson.” He dipped his head toward her.
“Please call me Aimee.” She gave him a frisky smile.
“Aimee, I assume you have references.”
“Go ahead and check her references, but I’ve already hired her. She has some good ideas. Use her in whatever capacity you see fit.” Mr. Howard turned to leave, then turned back. “And see that she’s put on the payroll.”
He wanted to grimace or growl—something to release his current frustration. “I’ll take care of it, sir.” Mr. Howard had no idea what he was getting the hotel in for. He also had no qualms about stepping on other people’s toes.
Once Mr. Howard was out of earshot, Dillon turned to Aimee. “What do you think you are doing?”
“You said if I couldn’t pay for a room then I’d have to leave the island. Now that I have a job, I can afford a room and I can stay. Isn’t that wonderful?” Her smile stretched wider.
Wonderful wasn’t the word he would have chosen. “What tale did you tell to wheedle a job out of him?”
“No tale. I told him I needed a job and no duty was beneath me. I liked people, and I’d try any task put before me and wasn’t afraid to ask for clarification or guidance if I didn’t understand something.”
The perfect employee? He refused to believe that. His initial thought that she’d be trouble for him was coming true.
Aimee continued in her bright cheery tone. “Then he asked me some questions about my background—which I answered very honestly. Oh, can I have an advance on my paycheck so I can rent a room? I understand it is not permissible to sleep outside.”
He would not growl or grimace. He drew in a deep breath instead. “I need to get you on the payroll first, but before even that, I have a meeting to prepare for. Follow me.” He walked back to his office and let her in first.
“What do you want me to do?”
He drew in a controlling breath and pointed to the chair she had occupied the night before. “Sit there and don’t say a word.” He went to his filing cabinet, pulled out several forms, and handed them to her. “Fill these out. I need the information to get you into the system.”
He sat behind his desk and tried to figure out what to do with her. He pushed papers around and pulled out his notes for the meeting. What was he going to do with her? Should he tell Mr. Howard why she had come in the first place? That would surely get her fired before she even started. He had nothing against Aimee, but if she caused trouble and Mr. Howard found out that he knew and didn’t report it, his job could be on the line. He couldn’t and wouldn’t risk his job for her. This job was more important than a pretty face. So far, she hadn’t done anything that was really wrong. And he did feel sorry for her and her misguided intentions. He would just have to keep an eye on her and keep her so busy she didn’t have time to be searching the hotel for a mythical treasure. If she seemed to be getting out of control or not doing the job she was hired to do, then he would take it to Mr. Howard.
“I can help you with that.”
Aimee’s soft voice tugged him out of his thoughts. He should have known she couldn’t stay silent. “I have a meeting to attend.”
“What do you want me to do while you’re gone? I could roam around the hotel and get to know the layout.”
Leave Aimee unsupervised? And free to roam? That didn’t seem wise. He pulled a steno pad and pen from his desk and gave them to Aimee. “Come with me, don’t say a word, and take notes. Do you think you can do that?”
She huffed out a breath. “I may be blond, but I’m not dumb.”
His nerves might be a bit frayed, but he would not snap at her. Lord, please guard my tongue. “I never thought you were. My concern was whether or not you could remain quiet for that long.”
She gifted him with a smile. “Oh. Of course I can.”
“Good. Then do it.”
She gave him a salute but didn’t say a word.
❧
Aimee followed Dillon into the conference room, the first to arrive, and Dillon pulled out a chair for her at the long wooden table. “Thank you.” Somehow it seemed to fit him that he would be the first one at a meeting.
Before Dillon could sit down, he greeted another man entering; then Dillon sat on one side of her and the other man, about Dillon’s age, sat on her other side. “Aimee, this is Steve Newton, assistant manager.”
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”
Steve took her hand in both of his and held it. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”
Steve was obviously a flirt. She smiled at him and retrieved her hand. “You are the one who let Dillon stay at your place last night.”
“What can I say? I’m just a nice guy. If you ever need a place to stay, my door is always open.”
“How sweet.” But she suspected the offer wasn’t the same one she’d received from Dillon last night. She turned to Dillon. “I thought you were the assistant manager here.”
“I’m assistant manger over special events: weddings, Lilac Festival, and things like that. Steve is over amenities like the stables, bike shop, swimming pool, and the golf course.”
“So who was Mr. Howard?”
“He’s the assistant general manager.”
“He’s over all of us.” Steve jumped in. “Which is the job our boy Dillon is vying for on his way to general manager.”
“Wow. You are ambitious.”
Several other well-dressed men and women had entered. Most of them mingled by the table with food and beverages at the end of the room.
Wow. This was like a real job. Not like clerking at the grocery store or a sales associate at the department store. Not having finished college, her employment opportunities had been limited. Maybe after her work here at the hotel was through, she could return to college and complete her education.
She stood up from the conference table. “Can I get e
ither of you anything before the meeting starts?”
Dillon looked up at her. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’m going to get myself something and thought I could grab you something, as well. Just trying to be nice and all.”
Dillon conceded. “I’ll take cranberry juice.”
She turned to Steve.
“Coffee, black.”
She went to the table at the end of the room with fruit, muffins, bagels, and a variety of drinks on it. She took a glass—a real glass, not a plastic cup—and poured cranberry juice from the decanter. The juice looked good. She poured herself some.
Then she took a ceramic mug and filled it with coffee. She dropped in a sugar cube and poured in a dab of cream. After filling a plate with a blueberry muffin and some fruit, she balanced the plate on her forearm and held both glasses by their bottoms on one hand and grabbed Steve’s coffee in the other.
As she set Steve’s coffee in front of him, he said, “Impressive.”
“Five years as a waitress.”
She set the plate and glasses on the table and sat down. She noticed Steve looking into his cup.
She sucked in a breath. “Oh. I’m sorry. I put cream and sugar in it. That’s how I like it. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go get you some more.”
As she started to stand, Steve put a hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I like to live dangerously.” He winked at her.
She would need to watch out for Steve. He was a charmer. Or at least was trying to be.
❧
After the meeting, back in Dillon’s office, Dillon sat behind his desk. “Steve was hitting on you.”
The dumb-blond thing again? “Like I couldn’t tell. Oops. I’m sorry, that was rude. I should have just said, ‘Yes, I know.’ But sometimes when I open my mouth, things just jump out, and then I have to go back and try to fix them. I’ll be quiet now.” She folded her hands in her lap.
Dillon looked at her a moment before he spoke. “I wasn’t implying anything about your IQ. Just watch yourself around Steve.”
“I know, and I am sorry. It’s just that, for my whole life, guys and gals alike have treated me as though I’m an airhead. I got almost all straight As in high school and all As and Bs in the two years I went to college except for that one C; but that was because I missed the final because my sister was in the hospital, and I had to make it up. And you really don’t care.”
“Are you nervous around me?”
“Nervous around you? No, not that I can think of. Why?”
“I just thought that that might be the reason you talk a lot.”
“No. I just like to talk.”
“I can tell.”
“Doesn’t everyone like to talk?”
“Evidently some more than others.”
She was the some, and he was one of the others. “Since we are on the subject of talking, do you always consider each word before you speak? Do you ever just say the first thing that comes to your mind?”
He hesitated a moment, then said, “Words are not something to be flung about like plastic necklaces at a Mardi Gras parade.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
He furrowed his brow, then moved some papers around on his desk. “You got an overview of the Lilac Festival in the meeting. It’s an important nine-day event on the island.”
“I got that. And I just wanted to assure you that I will do whatever duties you need me to do. I won’t go off looking for my family treasure during work hours; I’ll wait until after office hours. I won’t disturb any guests or get in the way of any of the staff. I promise.”
He just stared at her.
What was he thinking? Did he believe her? “I haven’t known you long enough to be able to interpret that look, so words would be really useful right now.”
He stood and came around his desk. “Come with me.” He held the office door for her and led the way to the front desk. “I need a room key.” After receiving the key, he led her down the west hall to the end. He inclined his chin toward the door. “Why is this room important to you? Or were you going to do a room-by-room search of the hotel?”
He was going to let her in the room? “My great-great-grandfather left a riddle, sort of a poem. ‘In a grand hall, walk west to the wall, you tread to the treasure, a gift without measure. Then north you must turn, for the prize you will earn, at the closet, humble and low, a treasure in the wood below.’ I figured that since the hotel doesn’t have a room called the grand hall and the riddle says a and not the that it is referring to the hallway. And obviously this direction is west; north there is a room with a closet. Hence the reason I was crawling around in the closet.”
“What if you find what you are looking for in there? Then what?”
“Then we take it back to your office?”
He slowly filled his lungs. “I mean, you can’t take it from the hotel, so what good will it be to you?”
“Well. . .I thought we could tell the owners the whole story, and maybe they would let me borrow it to take to Nonie, then bring it back. I wish Nonie could keep it, but I know that is too much to hope for.”
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Dillon stepped forward and unlocked the door.
“I can’t believe you are doing this,” she said as she stepped inside.
Dillon followed her. “You’ll be more productive if you aren’t trying to figure out ways to get inside this room.”
“I wish I had come to you in the first place, but by the time I thought of that, it was too late.” She went straight for the closet.
He put a hand on her arm. “Here. Let me. You’re in a dress.” He knelt inside the closet. “Exactly what am I looking for in here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a loose board or something.” She stretched up on her tiptoes to peer over him.
He pulled out a pocketknife and poked at the seams between the cedar boards. “These boards are all solid.” He pulled at the baseboards, then backed out of the closet and stood.
She blinked the moisture back from her eyes. A tear tumbled down her cheek. She wiped it away.
He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”
She dried the tear with her palm. “This was possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“But I didn’t find anything.”
“But you were willing to try.” Another tear escaped.
He went to the bathroom and brought back a tissue for her.
She dabbed at her eyes. She was being silly, crying like this. His actions had just hit her sentimental side.
“Let’s go back to my office.”
By the time they reached his office, she had pulled her errant emotions under control. Dillon resumed his position of authority behind his desk. She sat in the chair across from him.
He picked up a pen from his desk. “I need to know your intentions now.”
She widened her eyes. “My intentions?”
“I didn’t take you down to that room to help you find your treasure. I took you down there to show you there was no treasure. So now that you know whatever might have been there is gone, what do you intend to do about the job you took this morning?”
“When Mr. Howard hired me for the duration of the Lilac Festival, that was like a promise that I’d be here at least through the end of the festival. If you’re asking if I’m going to leave now, I’m not. Even I know that sometimes I can be a little flighty and sporadic, but I won’t let you down. I intend to stay. And besides, maybe after a few days of studying the riddle, I can figure out someplace else to look.” Oops. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that last part out loud. Too late now. He would feel a need to keep his eye on her every move, and that really wasn’t necessary.
He took a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t go roaming around the building looking in every available room.”
“I’ll do you one better. I promise to come to you with any new theories I come up with, and you can help me with them.”
&nb
sp; She wasn’t sure he liked that idea, but he did nod.
“Don’t you have a home and job you need to be getting back to?”
“You could say I’m at a crossroads in my life. I was guardian of my nephew for the past five years. Well, not really this last year because he’s been at college.” She would skip the part about her sister being mentally ill, which had forced Aimee into her temporary guardianship role. “I asked for time off from my boss, so I could come here. She said no because of the big sale coming up at the store, so I gave her my two-week notice. I couldn’t keep my apartment on my waitress pay, even though I had a roommate, so I gave notice at the restaurant, too. Then I packed my belongings in boxes and shoved them in the closet of my room. I told my roommate that she could get another roomie, and I’d pick up my stuff later. I know it seems like I left her in a bad position, but I gave her the names of two girls who wanted to move in; but she will probably have her boyfriend move in. That was really more information than you needed or wanted.” What he likely wanted to know was whether or not she was going to stay and if he could depend on her. “Bottom line is, I have nothing pressing I need to get back for.”
He stared at her a moment. “I noticed in the meeting that you took notes in shorthand. Do you also type?”
She sat up straighter. “Seventy words per minute. No, that’s probably not true. I’m rusty, so it’s more likely between fifty-five and sixty. But if you have me do a lot of typing, I’ll get back up to seventy in no time.”
He pointed to his desk. “Use my computer and type up your notes from the meeting. I’m going to get you in the system so you can receive a paycheck.” He picked up the forms she’d filled out earlier and left.
Six
“Mr. Thurough.”
Dillon detoured from his path across the lobby and walked to Henry who stood at the front doors to the hotel. “What can I do for you, Henry?”
“It’s what I can do for you, sir.”
“Henry, you really don’t have to call me sir. Dillon will do.”
“No, sir. I respect your position and authority. I won’t disrespect you by calling you by your first name.”
He had been trying for three years to get Henry to use his first name and always received the same answer. Maybe it was time he gave up trying. He’d learned in those three years that Henry could be quite stubborn about things he believed in. “What is it you want to do for me?”
