One
Lena cursed the New Jersey traffic with a fierce savagery that would have made her hot-tempered truck driver father blush. She skidded to a stop at a too-short yellow light and threw her head back against the headrest. It seemed like she had been on the road forever already. Her phone beeped on the passenger seat with an almost constant stream of texts she was anxious about not answering. EM Corporation never rested, even when EM himself sent her out on a job in some backwoods town in rural Pennsylvania called Stars Landing.
She checked her reflection in the mirror, her unpredictable hazel eyes looking more brown than green in the bright sun. She reached up, smoothing her white-blonde hair back into its neat bun.
The light turned and she hit the accelerator harder than necessary, always impatient. She just wanted to get there. Get there and get this ridiculous task over with so she could get back to work. Back to EM Corporation and show Elliott Michaels himself that she was capable of handling more than fetching his coffee and answering his mail. After two years as his personal assistant, she was more than ready to move up in the company.
So the sooner she could get to this Stars Landing place, the better.
It was such a weird assignment.
Elliott had called her into his office with a clipped “Lena” growled through the intercom. When she walked in, he hadn’t even looked up at her, simply thrown a folder across the desk at her. She’d arched an eyebrow, but opened the folder, pulling out a pamphlet for an inn called simply Stars Landing Inn.
“I need you to go there,” Elliott said, finally looking up at her with his piercing blue eyes.
Lena felt her brows furrowing, irritated. She bowed slightly forward and said in the driest voice she could muster, “You wish is my command, master.”
Elliott chuckled, standing up and pouring two cups of coffee. He passed one across the desk at her, black. After two years, he still didn’t realize she took it with cream and one sugar. “It’s an inn I stayed at in Hannah’s home town,” he said, a rare smile gracing his severe face as he mentioned his force-to-be-reckoned-with eight week pregnant wife. “The owner died a few months back and the relatives decided to put it on the market.”
“And you’re thinking of buying it,” Lena half-asked, half-declared as she looked at the map of Pennsylvania on the back of the pamphlet.
“Yeah, I know,” Elliott said, taking a long swig of his coffee. “it’s not our usual kind of investment. It will never be very profitable, but it has sentimental value.”
Sentimental value? It was almost hard to believe the intimidating man in front of her even knew what such a thing was. “So what, exactly, do you need me to do there?” Lena asked, reaching for her pocket-sized notebook and mini pen she kept in her back pocket. She went through a notebook about every three days.
“That’s the thing,” Elliott said, running a hand down the scruff on his face. “I need you to go and stay there for a while. Jot down your impressions as a guest. What you like. What should be improved on. The general condition of the structure. Local attractions. That kind of thing. And then I need you to see what you can find out about the books. Do they keep their head above water or are they always in the red? What the employees make. Anything you can find out.”
“And how do you suggest I go about finding out that information?”
Elliott looked up at her, one eyebrow raised, a faint trace of a smile lifting the side of his lips. “I am sure you can find some ways.”
“Right,” Lena nodded, wondering what part of her resume suggested she had some kind of experience in corporate espionage. “So you don’t want anyone to know why I am there.”
“It’s extremely important that no one finds out,” he said, looking down at a picture on his desk. A picture of Hannah. “The woman who manages the inn is a close personal friend of my wife. I don’t want Hannah finding out. It’s a… surprise,” he said the word with a sheepish smile.
“Right,” she said again. It was a word she used a lot with him. Right. Not “okay” or “yes sir”… just… right. “So when do you want me to leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Elliott said, making her look up quickly.
“I have a lot on my plate that I need to delegate…”
“And you will have to figure out how to do so by the end of the day. Give it all to Tad. He can figure it out. As far as they are concerned, you are being forced to take your vacation time… your two years worth.”
“Two weeks?” she hissed. “You expect me to be away from here for two weeks?”
“I expect you,” he enunciated clearly. “to get the job done to my satisfaction. I want email reports on everything you find.”
“Right,” she said, the word sounding surly. “I will see you in two weeks,” she said, walking into her office, closing the door, and pacing the floor.
She didn’t want to leave. She had so many balls in the air and she was sure no one else would be capable of juggling them correctly. And everything had to go right. Her future at the company depended on it. But, she reasoned with herself, maybe doing this job and impressing EM himself would lead to her finally getting the promotion she desperately deserved.
She went home that night to her apartment, small and economical since she was never home much anyway. All her furniture was expensive. A cream sofa she had saved up half of her salary for for months, a dining room set that cost more than her first car, a huge four-poster bed with an impossibly soft mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets, designer pots and pans in the kitchen.
It was all in her plan. A cheap apartment so she could buy pricey things to fill it. For when she got a promotion. For the lavish apartment she would get herself one day. Something as far away from the matchbook of a bedroom she had grown up in, in the shoe box house her parents could barely keep out of foreclosure in a god-awful part of town where she wasn’t ever allowed out in the yard without supervision. Because the next door neighbors cooked meth. Because the people across the street kept fighting dogs in their yard. Because there were eight registered sex offenders within a five-block radius.
Lena shook her head, pulling her suitcase out of the top shelf in the closet and carefully rolling her clothes up to fit in and avoid wrinkles. Designer slacks, cheap silk tank tops, sturdy mid-level heels. It was just the beginning of April, the weather mercurial and she had to pack her lightweight summer clothes and warmer fall wardrobe, not knowing if this Stars Landing place had the same weather as the city or if it was cooler… or warmer.
Finished, she placed the bag next to the front door with her purse, laptop, keys, and the small rosemary houseplant she had managed to keep alive for the better part of two years.
A part of her wanted to call it quits once she finally crossed the border into Pennsylvania. Get a nice hotel room somewhere and rest before she finished the last leg of the journey. But the map on the GPS informed her it was only a couple more hours and she turned the volume on the radio up, trying to drown out her phone that had taken up ringing every ten minutes or so.
She should get there by nightfall.
--
She had never been the type to romanticize small towns. Yes, they seemed to have their appeal… neighbors that knew you and would keep an eye on your house when you went on vacation, low crime rates, small class sizes. But she could never reconcile the idea that someone would always know her business. Every time she had a man over her house, every time she let her lawn grow too high. It all just seemed too intrusive.
She pulled past a blue sign with fancy silver writing welcoming her to Stars Landing and a few minutes later drove into something that must have passed for a town. There were stores on either side, small mom and pop type st
ores with dark windows. Lena checked the clock, noting it was just after six in the evening and laughed. Apparently there was no last minute runs to the grocery store at night when you ran out of milk.
Stars Landing Inn was located toward the end of Main Street, pushed back from the street, the lights still on.
Lena parked her car on the street right out front, taking out a notebook and quickly scribbling that parking lots should be added. No one liked parking on the street in an unknown area. No matter how quaint and safe it might seem.
Grabbing her suitcase and overnight bag, she looked up at the building. It was a grand old Victorian with two levels, both of which had wrap-around porches. The white paint was chipping as was the awful green color of the shutters. There were window boxes below each window, small red plants barely visible above the rim. The porch boards wobbled ominously beneath her feet. It seemed as though basic repairs had been neglected for a long while.
She opened the front door, a bell chiming as she walked through.
Lena straightened, taking a breath. Time to put her game face on.
Two
She needed to carefully tuck away her own personal tastes in style and décor. While she generally preferred plain lines and simplistic, modern decorating, she knew that there were still many people who enjoyed the almost erratic Victorian style. And that when someone booked a room at an inn, they were almost expecting that old-world charm.
Directly in front of her when she entered was a wooden staircase. To her left was a sitting room with a large fireplace. The walls were papered in a blue and yellow striped pattern, with bookshelves overflowing with old looking tomes, and an assortment of framed paintings of families in Victorian clothing. The chaise lounges and captain’s chairs were a pale blue, the color faded, the material worn and ragged on the arms.
To the right was a small reception area with a desk that left a small gap at one end for employees to move in and out of. Behind the desk was a charming assortment of cubby holes, mail and random belongings peeking out from them. To the side of the cubbies was a rack of keys attached to wooden chips with room numbers burned into them. The desk itself was cluttered. An old computer was on one end and across the surface, scattered piles of paperwork, fliers, and pens. No one was attending it.
Lena moved over to the desk, going up on her tiptoes to peek behind.
“Hold on. I’ll be right there,” a voice called from somewhere toward the back of the building.
Lena straightened, reaching for her wallet and driver’s license.
A woman barreled into the hallway a moment later, a flurry of anxious energy, carrying a stack of newspapers in one arm and a huge mug of coffee in the other. She was tall and thin… boyish even, wearing black skinny jeans and a tight red long-sleeved t-shirt. “Oh,” she said, her brows furrowing slightly as if she was surprised. “I’m sorry. I was expecting someone else. No matter,” she said, ducking behind the desk and throwing the newspapers on the computer chair. “Welcome to the Stars Hollow Inn. My name is Emily. How can I help you?”
She had one of those hospitality smiles plastered on her face, obviously fake but strangely eager. Emily had a sharp, almost cat-like face with a small, straight nose, small lips, and piercing sky-blue eyes. Her deep auburn hair was pulled into a neat ponytail which only brought more attention to her striking face. There was a slight spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Yes,” Lena said, handing the woman her license. “I need a room.”
“Well you’ve come to the right place,” Emily said, taking the license and typing quickly into the computer, barely looking at the screen. Efficient. “How long will you be staying with us?”
Lena smiled, a weak, unconvincing smile. “Somewhere between a week or two,” she supplied, reaching for her money. Cash. Because her credit card was a company credit card. “I’m on vacation. I’m not sure how much there is to see here yet.”
Emily nodded, typing still. “Well we have several pamphlets for you to look over with walking trails, tips on local attractions. All of that. But, honestly, you’re better off just walking around the town. There are always fliers up for some kind of event or another.” Emily looked up, smiling her fake smile still. Charming though it wasn’t real. “Well to make things easier, we will just have you pay at check-out then.”
“Aren’t you worried about people skipping out on their bills?” Lena asked automatically, internally cursing herself.
Emily shrugged a shoulder. “It hasn’t happened yet,” she said nonchalantly.
Lena smiled, waving a hand. “Sorry. It’s my big city distrust rearing it’s ugly head.”
Emily smiled, reaching behind her and grabbing a key off a hook. “Yeah, it’s tough for people to accept that there just isn’t much crime around these parts. Why don’t you follow me? I will show you to your room.”
She started off toward the staircase, taking them in her long-legged ease. Lena followed behind, stepping carefully on the narrow stairs in her heels. Emily got up onto the landing, stepping on something that crunched beneath her foot, her arms grabbing outward for the railing, almost falling. Her hand slammed against the banister. “Shit,” she said, reaching down quickly to retrieve a small toy truck. She looked over at Lena, shaking her head guiltily. “Sorry for the language.”
Lena laughed, thinking of her own awful language and smiled. “No worries. I’ve heard much worse. You get a whole new appreciation for curses when you hear the inventive ones the crazy people scream at you on the streets where I live.”
“My kinda people,” Emily said, smiling and moving along the hall. “Here we are,” she said, stopping in front of a door with a four printed on it. She put the key in and quickly opened the door, reaching in to turn a light on. “You have a view of the town from your window and you can access the porch from a door in the hallway. Through here,” Emily said, opening another door and putting a light on, “is your bathroom. And that,” she said, gesturing to another door. “is obviously the closet.”
Lena nodded, “Great, thank you. Oh, is there maybe a tour of the rest of the inn?”
Emily smiled her hospitality smile, not quite reaching her eyes this time as if to say it was something she certainly wasn’t going to look forward to. “Of course. Why don’t you settle in and when you’re ready, just come downstairs. If I’m not at the front desk, just give a yell. I’ll hear you.”
“Right. Thank you.”
Emily left quickly, closing the door. Lena looked around slowly. The walls were papered in pink and yellow flowers on a white background. The queen sized bed was covered in half a dozen decorative pillows, all in different colors and designs. The bedspread itself was striped, pink and yellow to match the walls. Lena took a breath, feeling anxious at the busyness of the décor. She walked into the bathroom, greeted by an old clawfoot tub, toilet, and single sink. The walls were tiled with one-inch white tile and the floor looked to be white linoleum. There was no shower, Lena realized with a bit of dismay. She was not a fan of baths.
She walked back into the room, sitting down on the edge of her bed and carefully writing down detailed notes she could type up and send to Elliott later.
Outside needs fresh paint. New color for shutters. Different type of pathway needs to be considered. Boards on deck need replacing.
Sitting room needs new furniture, artwork, and wallpaper.
Reception area is nice. Needs new electronics (computer, fax, etc).
Employee Emily seems confident and capable. There seems to be no dress code. There is not always someone available at reception. Which felt awkward upon arriving.
Steps on staircase extremely narrow. Possibly hazardous.
Room number four is very busy. Floral wallpaper and striped bedspread seems overwhelming. Bathroom tile is old and dated. Linoleum floor has to go. No shower, tub only. Could use a vanity.
Lena sighed. How did EM expect this trip to take two weeks? She couldn’t imagine it ta
king more than a long weekend. Tomorrow she could take to town and see all the local attractions. She somehow doubted that would take longer than an afternoon. And then she could try to get some inside information about employees and their records. With how absent Emily seemed to be at reception, she didn’t see that as being a problem. She could wait in the sitting room until all was quiet, sneak behind reception, and get a look inside the computer. No big deal.
Lena sat for only five minutes before moving to the door. She might as well get the tour over with so she could get some sleep.
She walked down the stairs to find Emily casually leaning against the wall on the bottom landing, looking up at her expectantly. “I had a feeling you’d be coming right down,” she said in a tone that implied Lena was predictable. Uptight maybe. “This of course is the sitting room,” she said, gesturing to the room in the front. “Feel free to take any books you want to read. No need to bring them back down when they’re done, we’ll fetch them when the rooms get cleaned. Which happens around ten every morning unless you don’t want to be disturbed. Now down this hall a little here... is the dining room.”
The dining room was directly behind the staircase, a big open space with far too many tables for one small inn.
“We often have town events in here,” Emily said as if reading her mind. “And we have a great chef. Many days the townspeople will come here instead of the diner for a change of menu. We serve breakfast from six in the morning until ten. Then of course lunch is from twelve until two. Then we have a dinner starting at six and going until eight. We don’t serve alcohol. But if you want a drink, there’s a small bar in town,” she said, smiling a bit wickedly. “The bartender is yummy. Anyway,” she said, moving toward the side of the room. “through here is the kitchen. And now back here,” she said, scurrying out of the room and back into the hall. “is the staff quarters. Maid’s room and the like. We do have laundry services if you need them. And… well…” Emily said, moving back toward reception. Moving, always moving. Restless energy seemed to be flowing from her constantly. “that is all I can show you tonight. Tomorrow I can give you a tour of the grounds.”
What The Heart Finds Page 1
