RONAN

by Nina West

  “Well, I’m sure one of the ladies will be kind enough to fill you in on what you missed. They seemed like a nice group. Polite youngsters like yourself, for the most part anyway.”

  At twenty-one, it feels strange to be referred to as a “youngster,” but I guess next to John, who’s got to be pushing seventy, that’s exactly what I am.

  The ferry rounds the crop of small islands and turns toward the cove. John points to the massive building ahead. “And there’s Wolf Cove Hotel.”

  My eyes widen. “Whoa. The brochure pictures weren’t fake.” And they don’t do this place justice.

  John chuckles again. “No, they certainly weren’t.”

  I stare at it quietly, mesmerized. The main lodge towers over the water. Even from this distance, I can see that the lodge is grandiose in its design and massive in size. I can’t make out the details to appreciate it yet, but there’s no doubt it’s something to be admired.

  “They just made the finishing touches two weeks ago. Been working on it for almost three years, now.”

  “Is it still opening on Sunday?” Belinda, the woman who called to formally hire me, said that these first few days would be focused on training and last-minute preparations.

  “I’ll be ferrying in the first guests at noon. I’ve been bringin’ employees in by the boatload over the last two days. There are a lot of you. A high staff-to-guest ratio, I heard someone say.”

  “How is the Wolf family going to make any money?”

  “I’m guessing the twelve-hundred-dollar-a-night price tag will help.”

  My mouth drops open. “Who can afford that?” I barely scraped together the eleven hundred I needed for my plane ticket here.

  “What’s that famous line from that movie? Oh, shucks. You may be too young to remember. The one with the baseball and all those cornfields. ‘If you build it...’”

  I smile. It’s only my dad’s favorite movie.

  He winks.

  We fall into a comfortable silence as we approach, and I realize that I’ve been rolling my promise ring around my finger unconsciously this entire time. It’s been three months since Jed and I broke up and I haven’t been able to bring myself to remove it. Now, I slip it off, letting the cheap metal rest in the palm of my hand. A part of me—the hurt, angry part—wants to toss it into the water and be done with it. A symbol of my faith in Jed.

  But I can’t bring myself to do it just yet. So, I slip the ring into my pocket and try to focus on the months to come.

  Chapter Three

  The farther into Wolf Cove Hotel I venture, the more enchanted I become.

  Standing at the shoreline, the main lodge serves as a centerpiece, an enormous rustic building constructed of thick timbers and stone, but adorned with balconies and chandeliers, and entire walls made of glass, giving it an opulent feel. Crushed granite paths lit with coach lights lead guests past the boat docks and water sports equipment—more kayaks and canoes and paddle boats than I’ve ever seen. On the left side of the lodge are three cabins modeled after the main building, each one set high up on the rocks, shrouded by trees and adorned with balconies overlooking the water. John said those are the penthouse suites.

  On the right are gardens to sit and ponder in, and beyond them are signs leading to Wolf Cove’s own hiking trails. Miles of Alaskan wilderness to explore, according to the pamphlet.

  I push through a heavy set of glass doors and revel in the warmth and smell of cedar in the grand lobby, offering a young woman who passes by me a nod and a smile. She returns it, zipping up her jacket before heading outside.

  I’ve never been one to have a lot of friends. Just a few, really, mainly through church groups and study groups. The problem is they’ve all been “our” friends and now that Jed and I aren’t together, I’m acutely aware of something missing when I see them.

  So I’ve isolated myself from them over the past few months, staying in my dorm room, focusing on my studies. Most of them don’t even know that I’m up here.

  I’ll make new friends here, I assure myself. Ones who know nothing about me, about my life back home. It’s kind of refreshing, getting to be whoever I want to be. That’s what I told myself this summer would be about. Answering to no one, including Mama. Not concerning myself with what people will think, or what they’ll say, or weighing all my words and thoughts and decisions based on what would be considered appropriate by Jesus, the Reverend Enderbey, and my mama.

  I’ve spent far too much time worrying about those things. Look where it has gotten me? Alone, while the guy I’ve loved for years is having, I’m sure, copious amounts of sex.

  It’s past nine in the evening now, and a few people mill around. The e-mail sent out last week says that I’m supposed to report to the main lodge check-in upon arrival, so I head toward the expansive and chic rustic desk, made of timber logs. A woman stands behind it, her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her.

  Not until I’ve approached do I see her name badge. It’s Belinda, the woman I spoke with on the phone.

  I smile. “Hi, Belinda.” My mama taught me to always use a person’s name when you can.

  She looks up, her sharp gaze peering out from behind stylish red-framed glasses. I wish I had the guts to buy a pair of glasses like those. “Name, please?”

  I remind myself that she probably spoke to hundreds of employees. She’s not going to remember me. “Abbi Mitchell.”

  “Oh. Yes.” She does a quick once-over of my bulky coat and what I’m sure is wild hair—wind and braids never play nice—before settling on my face. What is that I see flicker across her expression? Annoyance? Dislike? It vanishes too quickly for me to identify it. “You left me a message about missing the orientation session, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, that was me. My flight was delayed.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute.” I use my shirt sleeve to clean the mist from my glasses as she pulls my file up, her nails tapping against the keyboard. “Okay, here we go. Abigail Mitchell.”

  “It’s Abbi.”

  She flashes me a tight smile, such a contradiction to her soft, seductive voice. She’s stunningly beautiful—her makeup flawless, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder in movie-star smooth waves—but she’s dressed inappropriately, in a tight black dress that barely covers her butt, her fingernails blood red and clawlike. My mama would turn her nose up at associating with this woman, and remind me never to dress like this if I want any respect. “Right. Welcome to Wolf Cove, Abbi.”

  I grin. “Thank you. It’s beautiful here.”

  “Uh huh. So, Abbi, I see here that you were hired for Housekeeping and Guest Services.”

  “What?” I blurt. “No. Outdoor,” I correct her.

  “Well, it doesn’t say that here. See?” She taps the screen with her nail. All of my information—my home address, social security number, even my picture—is there, as well as a line that, sure enough, reads position applied for “Housekeeping and Guest Services.”

  “That’s got to be a mistake. When we spoke on the phone, you confirmed Outdoor.” I can’t spend the summer cleaning toilets. And bed sheets! I’ll go crazy.

  She frowns. At least, I think she frowns. Her forehead doesn’t actually wrinkle. “A mistake like that would be a first for us.”

  “Well, can you fix it?” I’m mildly panicked now.

  “I’ll look into it.” She doesn’t sound at all concerned. “For now, please stand over there so we can take your picture.”

  I stifle my groan as I follow her direction and stand in front of a digital camera with a white screen set behind me.

  “Smile,” she says as the flash goes off, catching me off guard, taking what I’m sure is a horrible image. “Okay, here’s your orientation package. Training begins tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. in the grand ballroom.” She reaches behind the desk and hands me a canvas tote bag. “Inside you’ll find all kinds of useful things like our employee guidelines handbook, information about the hotel and what our guest
s will expect of service; a complimentary bottle of bug spray, though the main guest areas are equipped with magnets to deal with them. A pocket-sized flashlight and a can of bear spray.” She must see the flash of panic on my face because she quickly adds, “Don’t worry; you won’t need that within the main gates. The perimeter’s wired with electric fencing. We want our guests to enjoy Alaska’s wildlife through guided tours, not find it waiting for them as they step out the lodge doors.”

  I give a nervous laugh. “Okay. Good.” I know the state has plenty of black and brown bears, but I didn’t think I’d have to worry about them here.

  “And here.” Her fingers are clicking furiously on her screen again and then, with a jangle of her key chain, she’s unlocking a drawer and handing me an iPad and headset. “There’s an orientation video loaded up on here. It has everything on it that you missed tonight. You can return the iPad to me here, tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And if you hurry, you can still grab a bite to eat in the staff lodge. Go out these doors,” her hand gestures to the left, “and follow the signs for the village.”

  “Great. Is that where I can make calls home?” I sent a quick text from Homer to let my parents know I landed, but my mama will be calling the front desk if I don’t send exact coordinates for where she can find me should she need to.

  “Yes. The bandwidth isn’t enough for streaming videos, but you’ll be able to do basic things like send e-mails and messages, check Facebook, that sort of thing.” Belinda pulls the freshly printed card out of the printer and, after swiping it across a machine, sets it on the counter along with a lanyard and two other cards. “You need to wear your employee card at all times. This card is for the cafeteria.” She taps the blue one. “Food is greatly subsidized for staff, and it’s a no-cash system, so you can load money onto it or ask that a portion of your salary be garnered for it.”

  “Just like campus.”

  “Yup. And this other card gets you into your cabin. You’re in cabin seven. The others are already here.”

  “How many others are there?”

  “Six per cabin.”

  I let that news sink in. I haven’t had a roommate since my first week of freshman year. That was a short-lived disaster. When I phoned my mama to tell her that the girl locked me out so she could smoke pot and have sex with her boyfriend, Mama quickly forked over another two thousand dollars and I snagged one of the last available private rooms. We’re not poor, but my parents like to live frugally.

  Either way, neither Mama nor her bank account will fix a problem with a shitty roommate here.

  Or five shitty roommates, potentially.

  I smile wide, another trick I’ve learned. The worse the situation, the bigger my smile needs to be. My face hurts from all the smiling I’ve done these past few months. “Okay, great. Thank you so much.”

  “I’m the hotel manager. You will be reporting in to Paige Warhill for the housekeeping department. But, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” That doesn’t sound genuine.

  Slinging my hiker’s backpack over my shoulders, I remind her, “You’ll look into my position, right?”

  She’s already typing away on the computer, her eyes on the screen. “Yes. Definitely.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

  “Jed came home today.”

  “That’s great.” No matter how hard I try to remove him from my daily—heck, hourly—thoughts, Mama’s always good for reminding me. She was probably watching for his arrival since noon. We can see the Enderbeys’s front porch from our kitchen window.

  “Have you talked to him lately?”

  “No.” Not for nearly two months. For a while there, we kept in regular contact. That’s what he wanted, to stay close friends. Ever since he started dating her though, we’ve been incommunicado.

  “Well, he brought that trollop along with him. Can you believe that? I don’t understand what he sees in her.”

  “What?” The word comes out like a hiss, the news a swift kick to my stomach, even all the way up in Alaska. I hadn’t expected it so soon. Jed has officially brought her into our world. Into the place of our childhood, where we’d lie in the grass and decide what the clouds were shaped like, where we nursed an abandoned kitten back to health. We’ve lived next to Jed and his family for as long as I can remember. Jed and I used to swing on the tire tied to the oak tree and catch toads in the pond between our properties when we were little.

  “But let’s not worry too much. Reverend Enderbey thinks that a few days with his family and her together will prove to him that she doesn’t belong in our lives.”

  Our lives.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and will this nauseating churn in my stomach to go away. I don’t want to talk, or think, or cry over Jed anymore. “I’m in cabin seven, if there’s an emergency. I already sent you all the other information. Remember, I won’t be carrying my cell phone around with me. It doesn’t work well here, anyway.”

  “I don’t like not being able to get hold of you when I need to, Abigail,” she says in her typical stern voice. There is no other tone with her, even when she’s happy. Right now, I’m guessing she’s sitting at the harvest table in our kitchen, her floral robe stretched over her 370 pound body, enjoying her coffee. The woman drinks coffee late into the night and then complains that she can’t fall asleep.

  “I’m going to be fine.” As long as you stop giving me updates about my ex and his new girlfriend.

  “Are you safe there?”

  “Yes. They have security and cameras and, honestly, I don’t think anyone is going to pay twelve hundred dollars a night to commit crimes.”

  “Rich people make for immoral people.”

  I roll my eyes, but only because she can’t see me. She’d wallop me if she knew. For someone so forgiving of Jed, she sure is judgmental of everyone else.

  “Do they have plumbing, at least?”

  I gaze around the place and burst out with laughter. It’s a log building with a cafeteria-style dining section on one side and several sectional couches on the other, with a mammoth two-sided stone fireplace situated in the center, the fire burning within giving off considerable heat. Beyond swinging doors in the back, I can hear dishes and cutlery clattering, and the occasional laugh. While there aren’t crystal chandeliers, it’s beyond simply “nice.” “Yes, they have plumbing.”

  “Don’t you be laughing at my concern for you,” Mama scolds. “Are they feeding you well?”

  I push the pan-seared chicken around on my plate. I’m not sure what the sauce is but it’s delicious, as are the mashed potatoes and string beans. Then again, I’m not picky when it comes to food and I have a healthy appetite. Thank God I also have my father’s high metabolism, otherwise I’d likely be waddling out of here by August. “I’m going to eat better here than all year on campus. I’ve gotta go now. I haven’t even made it to my cabin yet.”

  “Are there a lot of people working there?” she asks, ignoring my attempt at a dismissal.

  “Yes. Quite a few.” The staff lodge looks like it could accommodate a hundred people. According to the video I just watched, Wolf Cove Hotel—an adults-only getaway—has fifty guest rooms and three penthouse cabins available, so it’s not nearly as big as a typical Wolf hotel. Apparently the one down in LA can accommodate 1,500 guests.

  “What kind of people are there? Do any of them look like good Christians?”

  “Yeah, they look like Jed.”

  “Abigail Margaret Mitchell. Are you gettin’ smart with me?”

  I sigh. “It feels like being at school. Everyone’s young.” And attractive, from what I’ve seen so far. I guess that makes sense though. A high-end hotel that’s focused on aesthetics would extend that focus to what their staff looks like, right or wrong. “Mostly female.”

  “That’s good.” I hear the relief in her voice. I know what she’s thinking. An all-female staff would be the best way to preserve Abbi’s virtue for marriage. I don’t
know how many uncomfortable birds and bees and “wait until you’re married” and “you’ll get pregnant if he touches you” lectures I’ve had from my mama. The only reason she allowed me to go away to school is because it’s a Christian college, Jed was going, and the Reverend’s son can do no wrong in my parents’ eyes.

  Even though my eyes saw exactly the wrong he can do, firsthand.

  “Okay.” She sighs. “Remember that your father and I love you, and...” There’s a long pause. “If this trip is what you need, then we support you.”

  I can almost hear her teeth grinding as she forces those words out. But I don’t call her on it. I don’t tell her that I’m old enough to make my own decisions without her approval. If giving it helps her sleep at night, so be it.

  “Just don’t forget who you are, and how you’ve been raised. And no alcohol. Look what happened when Jed got mixed up in that stuff.”

  That’s one of their excuses for what happened. Alcohol. Parties.

  A.k.a. the devil.

  “It’s late. You best be goin’ to bed now. And text Jed. Let him know you’re safe. I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.”

  I have no intention of texting him now, knowing that she’s there. “Right. Gotta go. Love you, Mama.” I hang up and sigh.

  “People been doin’ that all day long,” a voice says beside me.

  I look over. A guy with dark skin and a cropped haircut wipes the table behind me, the chain that dangles from his pocket slapping against the wood. “Doing what? Telling their parents that they love them?”

  “Sighing with relief as soon as they hang up. Though the ‘I love you’ is sweet.”

  I chuckle. “If their mamas are like my mama, then I believe it about the sighing.”

  He works on a spot of ketchup, his tattoos prominently displayed on his forearm. “Name’s Miguel.”

  I offer him a polite smile. “I’m Abbi.”

  “Where you from, Abbi?”