They collided.
The basket went flying as she yelped and grabbed her phone. Folded sheets and pillowcases burst into the air in an eruption of laundry. Then Maggie gasped, losing her balance and pitching backward. Her arms windmilled wildly through the air, her eyes wide with shock. Michael's body moved before his mind caught up. Both of his hands shot out, catching her around the waist, to pull her in against him before she could hit the floor.
Then they both froze.
Maggie was pressed against Michael's chest, one hand flat against his shirtfront, her face tilted up toward his. He could feel her heart thudding frantically from the adrenaline. He could also feel his own heart pounding just as hard. He could smell the intoxicating, familiar scent of lilies and vanilla that he’d know anywhere. He looked down at her, and his eyes locked with Maggie's bright, wide-eyed stare, triggering a memory that dragged him back to when he was a teenager. The memory of a warm summer night on Sweet Blossom Bay beach flashed before him. It was another night he’d held her in his arms, and she’d stared up at him wide-eyed. They stood dead still, neither of them moved.
"Good grief, Mr. Michael," Rosa exclaimed from the doorway of the linen room. "What have you done to Miss Maggie’s clean laundry?"
Michael and Maggie sprang apart as if they’d been burned.
Rosa was already gathering the scattered laundry, tutting under her breath, shooting Michael the same look she'd been giving him since he was a boy who walked into doorframes and serving carts because his head was somewhere else.
"You never did watch where you were going when you were thinking," Rosa scolded, scooping sheets into the basket. "It doesn’t matter how old you get. Some things never change."
"I'm sorry, Maggie.” Michael apologized, crouching to help, and he glanced at Rosa. "Sorry, Rosa. Let me get these."
"No, don’t worry," Rosa told him firmly, swatting his hands away from the linen. "Leave it. I have got this.” She looked at Maggie. “I’ll go refold these in the laundry room.”
Rosa stood, hefted the basket onto her hip, and bustled off down the corridor with it, still tutting, leaving Michael and Maggie standing in the sudden quiet.
They looked at each other.
Maggie's cheeks were flushed. A strand of hair had come loose at her temple.
"Well," Maggie said, with a small, unsteady laugh. "That's one way to say hello."
"I'm sorry," Michael told her again, and found he was laughing too. "I was a hundred miles away."
“I must take responsibility for my part in our collision.” Maggie held up her phone. “I was busy walking and texting.”
“Ah,” Michael said with a nod. “They should fine people for that.”
“Then they should fine them for being lost in thought and walking too,” Maggie pointed out cheekily. “I think if we went into competition with that, you’d end up with the most fines.”
They both laughed, and then there was a moment where the laughing softened into something else. Michael stepped in and hugged her. It was a hug like any other hug he’d given her a thousand times at a thousand family gatherings. Except this hug went on a beat too long, and he’d pulled her a little too close and breathed her in as her arms came around him, and she lay her head on his chest.
When they stepped apart, neither of them quite met the other's eyes. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Michael cleared his throat.
"Would you like some coffee?" Michael offered, a little too quickly. "I was heading to the kitchen to get a cup.”
"Sure,” Maggie said with a tight smile. “I could use a cup.”
Michael stepped back slightly and let Maggie lead the way. As they entered the kitchen, Molly, the long-time Hearts Hotel chef, looked up from the stove, and her whole face lit up.
"Michael, Maggie," Molly greeted them cheerfully, wiping her hands on her apron and crossing the kitchen to hug them.
"Hello, Molly," Michael greeted her warmly. "It's good to see you."
"Welcome home, young man," Molly beamed. “Are you here for coffee?” Michael and Maggie nodded. “Then go sit down.” She pointed them toward the small staff booth in the corner of the kitchen. "You are in luck. I have cookies fresh out of the oven that will go perfectly with a freshly brewed cup.”
Michael and Maggie obeyed Molly’s orders, sliding into the booth.
Molly brought two mugs, a pot of coffee, and a plate of warm cookies. She set them down with a small flourish before leaving the two of them alone. She retreated to the far end of the kitchen to give them their privacy while pretending to be very busy with her baking.
Michael poured the coffee.
"I trust Linda and Martin have already filled you in on the hotel’s dire situation?” Maggie ventured, wrapping both hands around her mug.
