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She can’t believe Brock’s nerve. She blames herself for thinking he was such a good guy.
She wonders how she misread the situation so badly.
Yeah, I think, as she utters that last bit. I’m wondering how I misread the situation so badly, too.
When the executive assistant cell rings and displays the accountant’s name, I crouch down and use my elbow to slide the device off the edge of my desk. It tumbles and lands in the empty waste bin with a hollow-sounding thud.
And keeps ringing.
I repeat the motion and scoot the tablet off the edge of the desk, too. It lands with a clattering sound on top of the cell.
Thankfully, the ringing stops. But a second later, a new sound trills through the air.
My personal cell phone is tinkling out a tune.
I feel nauseated. If I stop moving and really think about what’s happening, I might drop down to the floor, curl into a fetal position, and bawl.
I refuse to do that.
Thanks to Janelle and her gossip, rumors are already swirling around this department about the locked break room door. My sudden departure today will be followed by whispers about me and Brock.
Who knows… someone may have even seen his car out in front of my house early this morning. My coworkers might trade gossip about how he spent the night at my house.
This town is big, but not that big. Word travels.
I’d like to leave with some little shred of dignity in place, and curling up and crying like a baby—like I’m on the brink of doing—really won’t help me on that front.
I have to stay busy so I don’t start crying.
Since my phone is ringing, I tap the screen to accept the call. “One sec,” I say to Lizzy as I lift it to my ear.
“Hello, Gwen Temple here.”
“Gwen. Great, glad to catch you. This is Danielle, up at the Isabella Heins Castle, calling to confirm your reservation for this Friday evening. We like to reach out to all of our incoming guests to give some details about the amenities, just so you can better plan for your stay with us. Check-in time is four o’clock, but you’re welcome to arrive earlier and tour the grounds. Have you ever visited the castle?”
I furrow my brow. “Sorry. I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I don’t have a reservation.”
“Oh… really?” A faint clicking sound drifts over the line. “Let me back out of this reservation and make sure I have my names correct. Gwen… Temple, T-E-M-P-L-E?”
“That’s me. But I didn’t book a room.” Because I can’t afford it.
“Hm. Well, someone did book you a room. I see your name and even your cell phone number right here. You have the Queen’s Room this Friday into Saturday morning. Check-out is eleven, by the way. Your stay will come with a complimentary breakfast, served by room service, but if you’d like, you can opt out and dine in the Ceremonial Room instead. There will be brunch there, served from ten to noon, and then the usual tea service options throughout the afternoon. The reservation includes?—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. I can’t process all she’s saying because my mind’s still stuck on what the heck is going on. “Did my mother, Allegra, set this up by any chance?”
“I don’t know,” Danielle murmurs. “Let me back out again to check on the billing information we have here… hm… give me a minute…”
I stare down at my sad-looking belongings and wait.
My mother and Clay both know about my grandmother’s dying wish for me. But this doesn’t feel like how she would go about making a reservation for me. Instead, she would have told me about her idea in advance to make sure it sounded good to me. And I’m sure Clay doesn’t have the funds.
Who else knows?
I swivel to check on Lizzy. I’m pretty sure I gabbed to her about my grandmother’s dying wish at some point. Did she do this because she feels so bad about my situation?
Lizzy looks absolutely clueless as she pats at her streaky mascara.
She didn’t do this.
