Grand Hotel

by Mary Davis

  “We set a date.” Constance sat on the couch twisting her embroidered handkerchief. “All three of Henry’s children can make it the second weekend of July.”

  Aimee sat down on the couch. “That’s great. And so soon. Will you be able to make all the arrangements by then?”

  “We’re going to have a simple ceremony at the church with a reception at the hotel. Mr. Thurough is taking care of coordinating with the staff there.” Constance laid her handkerchief out on her lap and smoothed it as much as the wrinkles would allow. She had worked a small tear into the side. “What if Henry’s daughter tries to stop the wedding?”

  “Which daughter?” Henry had two daughters and a son. His younger daughter still lived on the island with her own family, his son on the mainland somewhere with a family, and Henry’s oldest child lived all over the world.

  “Cookie.” Constance twisted her handkerchief back up. “She hasn’t liked me since she was seven, when I caught her digging up my flower beds and scolded her.”

  “You’ve known Henry that long?”

  “And his first wife Barbara-Ann.”

  “She hasn’t forgiven you for something that happened that many years ago?”

  Constance smoothed the handkerchief on her lap again. “I haven’t seen her since that day except at a distance in church. Once she left home, she never returned but a very few times, and I never saw her on those visits.”

  Aimee wanted to yank that handkerchief away from her but didn’t think that would help alleviate Constance’s fears. “I’m sure she has forgotten all about you scolding her and will love you. What about Henry’s other two children?”

  Sammy trotted over from his bed and sat looking up at his mistress as though he were concerned over her distress. “I wouldn’t say they like me, but they do seem to tolerate me.” Constance picked up her handkerchief and patted her lap. Sammy jumped up.

  At least now, Constance could keep her hands busy with something else. “I’m sure they do more than tolerate you. I’m sure they will all love you, even Cookie.”

  “You don’t understand. Cookie is a professional woman. She never married. I’ve never worked a day in my life. I went from my parents’ home to Bertram’s home. We have nothing in common.”

  “You have Henry in common.”

  “I just don’t want this to cause strife for Henry.”

  “I’m sure you are worrying over nothing.”

  Constance’s eyes rounded. “What if they all talk him into calling off the wedding?”

  “That’s not even remotely possible. I don’t think anyone could talk Henry out of marrying you. Not even you. They’ll love you, and the wedding will go on as planned.” Constance had more worries than the island had lilacs bushes.

  ❧

  Aimee had been watching Dillon for nearly two weeks now, and on the eve of the kickoff of the Lilac Festival, he needed to relax. Constance was right. He worked too hard. He was so driven and planned everything out to the smallest detail that nothing would dare to go wrong. But she had a special surprise for him tonight. She tapped lightly on his office door.

  Still at his desk, Dillon looked up. “I thought you went home.”

  “I thought the same about you.”

  “I was just going over a few things to make sure everything is in order before tomorrow. But I think I’ve done all I can tonight.”

  “Good,” she said. “I wanted to show you something.”

  He shut down his computer and rubbed a kink out of his neck. “What is it?”

  “It’s not something I can tell you about; you have to see it. Come on.”

  “I’m beat. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, not really. It’ll only take a few minutes. I promise.”

  “Very well.” He stood and followed her into the lobby.

  She stopped before she reached the front doors. “Okay. Close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m not closing my eyes.”

  “Come on. It will make the surprise better.”

  “Did I tell you that I don’t like surprises?”

  “I figured as much. That’s why you plan so much. But surprises can be good.”

  “Predictability is good.”

  “Predictability is boring.”

  “I like boring.”

  “This surprise is good. You’ll like it. Trust me. Now close your eyes, and I’ll guide you.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me out of this so I can just go home?”

  “Nope. I’m not leaving until I show you. You’re stuck with me.”

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  She took his arm and led him out the front doors and down to the end of the porch. “Okay, you can open them now.”

  He looked down at her and held out his hands. “What’s the surprise?”

  She pointed toward Mackinac Bridge.

  He turned.

  Pinks and oranges offset the darkening sky behind the five-mile bridge. “Sunset.”

  His face tensed. He spun on his heels and strode away without a word.

  She stared at his receding back. What had just happened? She knew he said he never sat on the porch to relax. She thought it was because he didn’t have time, but maybe he worked so hard and long so he wouldn’t have time for things like a sunset.

  ❧

  By the time Dillon reached his apartment, his hands had almost stopped shaking. He went to the bathroom and took the towel there to wipe the sweat from his face and hands. He leaned his hands on the cold porcelain sink and stared at his pale reflection. A deep breath in. . .and exhale.

  Surprises were never good.

  Nine

  The next morning, Aimee headed toward the office she shared with Dillon. Would he be there? What would she say? What would he say?

  She hadn’t seen him since he stormed off the hotel porch the night before. She had wanted to go to his place and apologize or something but wasn’t sure what had happened. She would apologize today. She took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door.

  “Come in.”

  She put on a smile and opened the door. “Good morning.”

  He looked up. “Good. You’re here. I wanted to talk to you.” He stood up from his chair.

  She stood next to his desk. “First, I need to say something. I’m really, really sorry about last night. I know I did something wrong—I’m not exactly sure what and I don’t want to pry—but I wanted you to know that I never meant to offend you. Please forgive me?”

  The look in his eyes conveyed understanding. “I am the one who needs to apologize for my behavior. Running out on you like that was inexcusable. I’d like to explain. Would you like to sit down first?” He motioned toward her chair.

  She backed up and sat.

  He sat on the edge of his desk and faced her. “This is really hard for me.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “You deserve an explanation after my rude behavior last night.”

  She noticed his hands shaking but didn’t want to mention it.

  “When I was seven, my mom developed breast cancer. It spread rapidly through her body, and she died within the year.”

  She took in a quick breath. “I’m so sorry. My mom died, too, when I was seven. It’s awful to lose your mom at such a young age.” She felt an instant deep connection with him.

  “Then you can understand the heartache. The one thing Mom wanted was to visit this hotel. We planned a trip, but she got too sick to travel. I told her that if she lived I would buy her the Grand Hotel. At seven, I didn’t understand how impossible that was. She died, of course, but asked me to watch the sunset for her from the hotel.”

  A lump formed in her throat at his heartache. “So you wanted that to be special. Something you did alone with her memory. I can understand that. I never meant to intrude.”

  He shook his head. “I have
n’t done it.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why not?”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “When I do it, I’ll be saying good-bye to her. I’m not ready to do that. I’m waiting until I’m the general manager and am running this hotel. If I can’t own it for her, I can at least be in charge of it.”

  That was so sad. He had kept his grieving for his mom fresh. He hadn’t let go. No wonder he worked so hard. He was trying to sooth his guilt. “It’s not your fault she died.”

  He nodded.

  She saw moisture pool in his eyes just before it did in her own and blurred her vision. “Watching a sunset from the porch will not change your love for her.”

  “I know.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away but doubted he noticed. She stood to give him a comforting hug.

  He backed away. “I’m okay.” He stumbled back into his chair and sat. “I’m fine.”

  Well, she wasn’t. She could feel the tears boiling up at the grieving he was still doing because he wouldn’t let go. “I need to—I’m going to—I’ll be back.” She hurried out of the office and to the ladies’ room.

  After a good cry, she returned. Dillon sat behind his desk talking on the phone. She sat at her table and pulled out the day’s schedule to review.

  Dillon hung up the phone and stood from his chair. “Show time. We need to meet with Ann at the tourism bureau to coordinate the details of this afternoon’s concert in the park and make sure all the arrangements are still in place, no musicians out sick, etc.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “What about all this stuff with your mom and the sunset?”

  “I have work to do.”

  “So just like that, you put your mom in a box and forget about her?”

  “I never forget about her, but if I let it paralyze me, I will never accomplish my goals. My mom is very much alive inside me every minute of every day.” He held the door open for her.

  So that was it? End of discussion? She took a deep breath and exited the office with him. Well, it was going to take her a few days to get over this. Lord, please heal his hurting heart, even if he won’t admit it’s wounded.

  ❧

  The next day, when Aimee stepped into Dillon’s office, she was wearing her long lacy pink dress. Had she forgotten? He had discussed it with her yesterday. “Did you forget what event we are attending today?”

  She tilted her head slightly. “No. The 10K run.”

  “You’re participating in a dress?”

  Her smile slipped, and her mouth hung open. She stared at him in his T-shirt and running shorts. “I’m going to be in the race?”

  “We both are.”

  She cocked her upper lip. “Do I actually have to run?”

  “You can walk.”

  “I guess I can go change. I have a pair of green plaid capris and a lime green T-shirt with little bows on the sleeves. How long do I have?”

  For her to go to Constance’s and back? “Not long enough. Come with me.”

  He led her down to one of the hotel shops that sold the appropriate clothing. He talked to Della, the shop manager. “Aimee’s my assistant and needs clothes for the race today. Can you outfit her down to her shoes and charge it to the hotel’s Lilac Festival account?” He had felt a need to explain that she worked for him and what the clothes were for. The last thing he needed or wanted were rumors flying around about him buying clothes for Aimee and any other made-up rumors that would follow. He went back to his office to work while he waited

  A half hour later, Aimee waltzed back into his office in appropriate race attire. She looked cute in the running shorts and T-shirt with the hotel logo on it. And if she didn’t want to run, he would walk alongside her.

  She put a shopping bag on her chair and swung a white tennis-shod foot up onto his desk. “See. Right down to my feet.”

  He handed her a camel-back pack.

  “Oh. Is this one of those water things?”

  He was surprised she knew what it was. “It is. It’s easier than trying to drink from a water bottle or cup while you run. . .or walk.”

  Before the start of the race, they both did some stretches and warm-ups; then he stood next to Aimee in the middle of the pack of participants. “We can just walk, and we don’t even have to finish the race. We can’t place anyway. It’s just for show.”

  “Did you finish the race last year?”

  He didn’t want to make her feel bad and wished he hadn’t insisted that she come. He nodded.

  “I can run for a while but not the whole time.”

  Steve came up beside them. “Hello, you two.” He smiled and winked.

  What was that about?

  The signal sounded for the start of the race, and everyone started running. Steve took off and moved up in the pack. Steve was more competitive in the race than Dillon. Steve was out to win the race, even if he couldn’t place. For Dillon, it was all about the job and making a good showing for the hotel.

  Aimee fell into a smooth jog, and he matched her stride. He would let her set the pace.

  After a half mile or so, she put her hand to her side and soon slowed to a walk. “Whew. I’m more out of shape than I thought.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “It’s better to keep moving.”

  “No. I mean quit the race. We don’t have to finish.”

  “I’ll be fine if I can just walk for a while. But you don’t have to stay with me. You are obviously in shape for this. So go on. Catch up with Steve. I’ll meet you at the finish line in a few hours.”

  “I don’t mind walking.” He enjoyed being with her.

  They walked for about twenty minutes, then jogged for a while, then walked again. The two-way radio in his pocket crackled, and he answered it. He was needed back at the hotel. “I have to go to the hotel. You can either press on or return with me.”

  “You mean I can continue this torture or go back to a comfy office chair and collapse? You drive a hard bargain, but I accept. Lead the way.”

  He smiled at her sense of humor. He was glad she was coming with him. “This way.” He led her off the main route and headed for the hotel.

  ❧

  Three days later, Steve peered in Dillon’s office. He had a golf bag slung over his shoulder. “You ready, partner?”

  “In a minute.” Dillon began closing out his e-mail and shutting down the programs he had running. He enjoyed teaming up with Steve for a few rounds, even if it was only for show. It gave them a chance to deepen their friendship, so he could talk to Steve about eternity.

  Aimee stood up from her chair across from him and spoke to Steve. “So you two are golf buddies, as well?”

  “Well, the golf part is debatable. We hit little white balls in the grass.” Steve chuckled.

  “So do you think the two of you will win?”

  “We aren’t actually in the tournament—being employees of the hotel and all—but we play a few spectator holes to warm up the crowd and keep people entertained until the real show begins.” Steve set his clubs down. “Hey. Since it is just for show anyway, why don’t you take my place?”

  She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t play golf.”

  “Neither do I, really. What do you say? I think the two of you would make a great team.” Steve’s gaze passed from Aimee to Dillon and back.

  Dillon stood. “She said no.” He gave Steve a stern look. What was he up to?

  Aimee waved her hands in front of her. “You really don’t want an instrument in my hands that I’m supposed to hit another object with and send it propelling into the air. With people around? Not a good combination, unless you want to wipe out half the spectators.”

  “You can’t be that bad,” Steve said.

  Why was Steve pushing this?

  “Once playing tennis in high school gym class, I swung at the ball coming at me and, to my surprise, I actually got it over the net. . .three courts over. Hit Samantha Tillman in the h
ead. Good thing it was only a tennis ball and not a golf ball. I’ll pass. I really don’t want to injure anyone.” Aimee lowered her voice to a whisper. “Bad publicity for the hotel.”

  Once on the golf links, with Aimee in the crowd, Dillon elbowed Steve in the arm. “What was all that about trying to get Aimee to play? You don’t like being my golf partner?”

  “I thought the two of you would like to be together on this—spend some time together.” Steve gave him a lopsided grin.

  “Why? We spend plenty of time together.”

  Steve pulled a club out of his bag. “I’m just trying to help your little romance along.”

  That’s right. Steve thought there was something between him and Aimee. “Why would you even care?”

  He pressed a tee into the grass with a ball. “It’s like this: You work too hard and make the rest of us look bad.” He lined up his shot. “If your time and attention are divided between work and a girlfriend, it will give the rest of us a chance to catch up or at least close the Grand Canyon-sized gap a little.” Steve swung and watched his ball fly down the fairway, then turned to him. “Distraction can be a good thing.”

  How did he tell Steve there was nothing more than a working relationship between him and Aimee without giving Steve license to pursue her? “Things aren’t exactly progressing in the romance department. So, if you could tone it down and not push, that would be great.” He put a tee into the ground and lined up his shot.

  “Maybe I should have asked her to replace you in this little match so I could put in a good word for you.”

  Dillon stopped on his backswing and turned to Steve. “Don’t you dare. Please stay out of this.”

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “I don’t need any help in this matter.” He lined up his shot again and took it before Steve could comment further.

  They both put their clubs into their bags and started wheeling them behind them before Steve spoke again. “You know what it is? You work too much.”

  “Is that your way of trying to get me to slack off on my job so you can get ahead?”

  Steve shook his head. “Just trying to help you get a little balance in your life. Too much work scares girls off. You have no time to spend with them. Invite Aimee out to a nice dinner in town; not at the hotel—it will seem too much like a working dinner—someplace nice. Let her know she’s special to you.”