He hums something that doesn’t sound like approval. “It’s a beautiful property,” he concedes. “The original architecture is what drew me into this place. A lot of the older homes nearby in San Diego follow a Victorian, Spanish colonial style, much like Old Town and the San Diego Mission. The property follows that almost to a tee.”
I nod along, finding the details he’s talking about in the sconces and arched entryways and the clay tile roof that was visible when I walked up to the multicolored fountain at the roundabout up front.
“There’s a lot of potential. Especially with the natural lighting and the view of the ocean. With the windows, it looks like the lobby is an extension of the beach.” I pause, and Eric follows my gaze as if looking at the space with a new set of eyes. “And I love how the infinity pool is elevated. I bet at certain angles, it’s like you’re in the ocean.”
“It is.” We reach a small table in the bar area, the furniture a little dull and outdated. Eric waves a hand at the bartender before we both sit. “I have a silent partner involved in the renovation and a grand reopening I’m slating for roughly January, maybe February.”
“So that’ll give you roughly five months or so?”
He nods. “Do you think that’s doable?”
“Oh, yes,” I answer assertively. “That’s plenty of time.”
“My partner will be joining us in a bit. I was thinking once he’s here, we could walk the grounds. There’s more than the lobby, and I’d like to see what you think.”
“Sure.”
Eric waves behind me before standing and buttoning his suit jacket. “He’s here now.”
I follow suit, straightening my skirt and pushing my chair under the table. As soon as I turn to greet this silent partner, my heart jumps into my throat.
“Mrs. Diaz, this is Everett Hayes.”
Everett stops mid-shrug into his navy blazer and peers up at me, a light smirk on his lips and those dark eyes dancing with amusement. “Mrs. Diaz.”
“Christine,” I answer sharply. “Christine is fine,” I say again, this time to Eric.
“Everett is in town from Seattle to help finalize some details to the property before heading back up in a couple of months. We’re hoping to have him back once our grand opening is set.”
I’m still reeling from Everett’s sudden appearance. Like a magician is playing some sick twisted trick on me, focusing on my haunted past and whipping Everett out from a wooden box or a shiny tablecloth. Everett who I thought I wouldn’t have to see until the wedding. Everett who I thought would be out of my life after my drunken debacle and the impromptu dessert run. But no. He’s standing in front of me as a potential client.
“I was just telling Christine we’ll go ahead and take a tour of the grounds and see if her vision for the space would be a good fit for us,” Eric continues, turning his attention toward Everett.
Everett responds with a concurring nod, his gaze still on me. Just then, we’re interrupted with the urgent steps of the same receptionist who was at Eric’s side when he greeted me. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Eric, we have a situation with one of the vendors, and they’d like to speak with you.”
Eric runs a flustered hand through his hair before he turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Christine. Would you give me a minute? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure—”
“I’ll show her.”
Everett’s deep voice, so level and calm, vibrates through me, sending my pulse racing and my palms clammy. “I—I really don’t mind waiting,” I argue frantically.
“I don’t want to keep you,” Eric answers. “Go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you two in a bit.”
Before I can protest again, Eric scurries off, leaving me and Everett alone. I exhale a controlled sigh, doing my best to keep my cool.
“Ready?” Everett asks with an innocent smirk, extending his hand in the opposite direction of where I came in from.
Unable to refuse his offer, I reluctantly follow Everett’s pace as he takes the lead. I keep a considerable amount of distance between us. I cross my arms, knowing I look unapproachable and aloof, though it’s because I don’t know how to navigate this. How to do this tour, trying to focus on my work and maintain the best professional etiquette, without losing my shit with Everett.
“This is the main ballroom,” Everett explains, pushing open the double doors leading into a large, empty space. It’s outdated. Curtains the color of mushed peas with old carpeting to match it, plain lighting that dulls everything rather than brightening it. It’s such a vast contrast to the beautiful scenery outlining the hotel grounds and the main lobby.
I remain quiet, taking in the room with a flutter of color swatches oscillating in my mind. Vibrant yellow and emeralds, deep purples and navy, with bursts of ideas interrupting my train of thought. “What do you think?” Everett asks after I’ve stayed quiet for too long.
“It has a lot of potential.”
“That’s code for horrible.”
