Thanks to Lilian’s generosity, it had become my habit each morning to grab a cup of coffee and a donut from the Garrisons’ kitchen and sit out on the steps where I would make notes and go over my jobs for the day. I was usually joined by a couple of my crew members, who would occasionally bring up an issue or some information connected to an aspect of that day’s work. Once in a while, we would slip into a quick gossip session about one of the Garrison kids or their spouses. I tried to keep that to a minimum, mainly because this was their house! But sometimes it couldn’t be helped. After all, my sister Chloe and I and most of the guys on my crew had gone to school with all of the Garrison kids. It was just one of the many joys of living in a small town.
Other than a few notable exceptions, I considered most of them to be good friends. There was Logan, the oldest of the Garrison kids, who was married to Randi. Then there was Arabella, who preferred to be called by her full name Arabella, not Bella. She was married to Franco. The third Garrison child was Stephanie, who was Chloe’s best friend. I considered Stephanie the most well adjusted and friendly. She was married to Craig, who was the manager of the hotel’s bar.
Chloe and I had both dated Logan Garrison briefly during our teenaged years, and back in the day, we’d attended countless slumber parties with Arabella and Stephanie.
All of the Garrison kids and their spouses lived and worked at the hotel in some capacity or other—except for Logan, the oldest son. He had been trained to take over the management of the hotel but decided early on that he wanted to join the navy and serve his country. His parents and his wife, Randi, were nervous about letting him go, but they couldn’t exactly refuse him. Instead, they gave him their blessing and prayed for his safe return.
While Logan was out of town and overseas, Randi continued to work for the hotel, starting out in the restaurant kitchen and then moving over to the hotel bar as a cocktail waitress. Randi took full advantage of Logan’s absence by convincing his parents that they would all benefit from her taking expensive classes and seminars to improve her knowledge of her chosen field, namely fine wines and champagnes. She did this mainly to improve her own resume, but I had to wonder if she was biding her time before going out on her own. As long as she remained married to Logan and worked at the Cliffs, she received yearly promotions and generous bonuses and was on her way to becoming a master sommelier, a position that would guarantee an excellent salary if she ever decided to leave Logan.
Everybody loved Logan, but the same couldn’t be said of Randi. She was overbearing and obnoxious, and yet she usually got away with her rotten attitude for a couple of reasons. First, because she was drop-dead gorgeous with her statuesque figure, long, thick black hair, and deep blue eyes. And second, because people assumed that she would tell Logan if anyone dared to criticize her. But then, they didn’t know Logan.
Stephanie and Arabella were beautiful, too, and for that matter, so was their mother Lilian. So why did Randi have to be so high and mighty all the time? Maybe she was secretly jealous of the other women. I couldn’t figure it out, but I had long ago decided that Randi was simply one of those people who always went to the dark side, always assumed the worst, and always attacked first. Much like my archenemy, Whitney Reid Gallagher.
And that brought up another reason for me to dislike Randi, as if I needed more. Randi was a close friend of Whitney’s. Didn’t it just figure? The fact was, the two women didn’t actually hang out together very often, and I had a theory about that. I thought it might be because they were both so negative that when they got together, they canceled each other out. They could only handle each other in small amounts. It probably didn’t make much sense, but that was my theory and I was sticking to it.
Logan made it home to visit his family as often as possible, but it was difficult. Anytime he did come home, his parents and siblings would give him a hero’s welcome, hoping against hope that this time he would stay for good. But it didn’t happen. The navy still required his presence, and after a week or two of visiting the family, Logan would be shipped off to another destination.
With Logan away, Arabella was offered his management position, but she didn’t want it. Too much responsibility, she protested, so Stephanie, Arabella’s younger sister, was given the management job, and she excelled at it. Stephanie had a serious drive to succeed but managed to be friendly and normal. To this day, she remains Chloe’s best friend. Stephanie was married to another childhood acquaintance, Craig Taylor, who was the manager of the popular hotel bar.
Meanwhile, Arabella had not only turned down the opportunity to work in management but had also fought against working as the head of Housekeeping, mainly because, ugh, housekeeping.
Bill and Lilian had finally acquiesced to Arabella’s demands and put her in charge of the new day spa. They reluctantly agreed that this position suited her personality so much more, probably because Arabella enjoyed being pampered more than anything else. We all knew she much preferred being associated with luxury rather than drudgery.
I’d known Arabella since kindergarten, and we’d been close friends until high school, when she traded me in for her new best friend, Whitney Reid Gallagher, the world’s most insufferable conniving snob.
Arabella had fallen in love with the delicious Franco Mateo, the Cliffs’ executive chef. Franco was a culinary genius, and on his way to winning his first Michelin star in the next year or so. He was a sweetheart and ridiculously handsome as well. He and Arabella made a gorgeous couple, and rumor had it that they were often seen sneaking off together for a little romance. And who could blame them? They were both so pretty.
Arabella had made a brilliant decision when it came to choosing her husband. But choosing her best friend Whitney? Not so smart. She didn’t seem very happy these days, and I blamed Whitney, who was truly a dark cloud in my life. I occasionally wondered what Franco thought of Whitney, but it seemed that he didn’t care one way of the other about her. His main passions in life were Arabella and cooking, and that made him even that much more attractive as far as I was concerned.
I supposed there were enough Garrison names and faces to be confusing, but I had known these people forever and didn’t have a problem remembering who was who.
I was putting the finishing touches on one of the carnival game booths when I looked up and saw Bill Garrison hurrying down the front steps of the hotel and jogging over to the carnival ring.
He was a tall, handsome man in his sixties and he was still one of my dad’s best friends. Dad was retired now, and that was why Bill was always hiring me and my crew to do any work around the hotel. I appreciated it, but I knew that, despite his friendship with Dad, he wouldn’t have hired us if we weren’t the best in the business.
Now Bill stared at the last booth I was working on and grinned. “Who would’ve thought to use grommets?”
“Grommets are my thing,” I admitted with a smile. “What do you think?”
“It looks great, Shannon.”
“Thanks, Bill.”
His eyes narrowed as he took in the larger picture of the big top and the carnival games and the carousel. “So, are we going to pull this one off?”
I had to chuckle. “Every year you come up with some fantastic idea, Bill, and you always pull it off. This year is going to be great.”
He winked, something he did on a regular basis. It was part of his charm. “You know me, Shannon. I do it for the kids.”
I smiled. “Lots of lucky kids in this town.”
“I’d say we’re all pretty lucky.”
“I’d have to agree.”
He glanced around again and suddenly looked uneasy. I wondered what he really wanted to say to me, and finally he asked, “Have you seen Arabella out here?”
“I haven’t seen her at all today.”
He frowned. “I thought I saw her come out here.” He blew out a breath. “Well, if you see her, tell her I need to talk to her.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” He walked away briskly, heading toward the pool and gardens.
It was no secret to anyone that Arabella avoided me at all costs, so Bill’s reluctance to ask me about his daughter was understandable. I hated to think that I was the one who made him uncomfortable, but that was on Arabella. And Whitney. Not me.
A few minutes later, my foreman Wade Chambers approached and whispered, “Bella alert.”
I rolled my eyes, praying that no one had heard him. Since he’d known me forever, he was aware of the age-old situation with me and Arabella. But it was nice that he looked out for me.
“Don’t freak out,” Wade said.
“I don’t freak out.” I gave him a look that might’ve fried a lesser man’s circuits. “I’ve been so over these stupid schoolgirl mind games for years, but Arabella and Whitney are still playing them.”
“I know. Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. But thanks for the alert.”
Wade gave a quick nod, then walked away as if we’d never spoken. He was nothing if not subtle. I returned to grommets for one last check of the banners and the booths. They were perfect. I tried to relax, but for some reason, Wade’s words must’ve fried a few of my own circuits, because I realized I was actually a bit nervous. Maybe because Bill had seemed so antsy just now. What was going on around here?
I tried to remind myself that this was my happy place. Grommets, remember? Grommet Girl. Nobody did it better. “You go, Grommet Girl,” I whispered, then had to chuckle at my pitiful little pep talk.
I glanced around, expecting to see Arabella, but she hadn’t come out this way. I wondered about Wade’s “Bella alert,” then shook my head, knowing I would stand here and wait until she showed up, only because Bill had asked me to give her a message.
And as much as I loved Bill Garrison, it really bugged me that he’d asked me to watch for Arabella. I knew that as soon as I found her and gave her the message, she wouldn’t thank me. I’d still be an outcast in her eyes. She only did it because she thought Whitney would approve. And that was Whitney’s fault. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would take to get her out of my life forever.
© Kate Carlisle