“Well, I’ll be at the coffee shop around two. I’m meeting up with Elise McKenna to discuss a project for the historical society.”
“Two sounds great. I’ll see you there. Bye.” She hung up the phone and sighed. Now, she had to find time to draft something about Soupy that sounded convincing enough to get back on Seth’s good side. Hopefully, she could figure it out on the fly. In the meantime, she had someplace to be where she could sneak around without getting Mr. Willie’s or Christopher’s attention.
Pocketing her phone and room key, she tugged a ball cap low over her head and exited the room with her chin down. Incognito, no one stopped her as she made her way down the stairs and past the hospitality tray set up in the lobby. She grabbed a granola bar and poured herself a coffee.
“Ms. Hale?” Mr. Brixen called across the room. “Is that you? Mrs. Lewis? Ms. Hale-Lewis?”
She drew her ears up to her shoulders. Her disguise hadn’t been enough to conceal her identity. Sipping from her coffee, she slowly made her way to the concierge desk at the end of the front desk. “Hello.”
“Sorry, do you want to be called Mrs. Hale-Lewis?” Mr. Brixen frowned. “I should have asked.”
She forced a smile across her features. “Please don’t worry. Hale-Lewis works. How may I help you?”
“I have an envelope here for Mr. Lewis. I was wondering if you might deliver it to him?”
She gritted her molars. Everyone knew Christopher treated her like an unpaid intern at the moment. She almost reminded Mr. Brixen that the role was only temporary. She would assume her rightful place as the boss soon. He might think twice before asking her to be a messenger.
“I have to run out for a guest, and I gather you’re meeting with Mr. Lewis?” Mr. Brixen asked, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry to impose. I would so appreciate if you would deliver it to him?”
She was glad he was able to read her thoughts. She softened her expression. “Of course, I will. Our meeting is later, but I’ll take it to him. I appreciate how you devote your time to our guests first and foremost.”
Mr. Brixen beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.” He extended the envelope.
She widened her gaze and accepted the thick package. The thick envelope was decorated with sparkly white hibiscus flowers on a white ground. In the upper right corner, she spotted the return address.
Hawaii. She nibbled the inside of her cheek. He had some nerve planning a trip to celebrate his victory over her. They’d talked about visiting the Hawaiian islands for their ten-year anniversary. She’d missed it, and he booked a vacation alone. She never pictured him on a beach without her forcing him to put his toes in the sand. However, if he had thrived for the past decade without her, he was clearly capable of all sorts of behavior she couldn’t have anticipated.
Or maybe he’s got a job lined up. The sudden thought was rational and reasonable, given her husband’s work hard, never play personality. If he left, he’d solve a lot of problems. Still, her stomach dropped, and she stuffed the envelope into her oversized, tote-style purse. “I’ll take care of this.”
Mr. Brixen nodded.
She retreated to the doors, gripping the bag tight. Inside, she carried something or nothing. She wouldn’t know which for a while. If he ever told her… She pushed the worries to one side.
Outside, she surveyed the lawn but didn’t see him. She didn’t have time for distractions, but a montage of everything that had happened and all that could never be played in her mind. She’d imagined a big wedding on the lawn. But once Xavier told her she was too young to be engaged, she’d run off to the courthouse with Christopher. She’d pictured spending the Fourth of July out here, laying on a blanket and staring at the sky with her children as fireworks erupted overhead. But then she’d run, and Christopher hadn’t followed her.
She sipped her coffee and made her way down to the lighthouse. Crossing over the wooden bridge, she didn’t see anything out of order around the perimeter. She approached the door and pushed with her fingertips, holding her breath as she did.
Please be a nice ghost.On tiptoes, she entered. And saw nothing.
She spun in a circle and frowned. Besides the melted and burned debris of her air mattress and ruined sleeping bag, nothing else took up space on the floor.
If someone else had been inside and digging for a supposed treasure, like Christopher supposed, the floor would have been disturbed. Evidence would be left. She spotted nothing.
No one else had been here.
She shuddered, and her whole body quaked as a chill swept her from head to toe. Besides fire damage, the lighthouse remained otherwise undisturbed. Saboteurs could have returned and covered their tracks. She’d left the lighthouse for several days. But some trace of disturbance would be visible.
No human was capable of lifting floorboards and shifting dirt without a hint of their activity. The perp or perps had plenty of time to return to the scene and continue whatever their end goal was. But they hadn’t. Her ghost theory strengthened.What is a ghost’s end game? Unfinished business? Companionship?
She refused to pursue that morbid line of thought. She was hardly in a place of critiquing someone else’s end goal when she wasn’t sure of hers. Last night, she should have talked to Christopher and asked him what he meant by finishing their business. Hiding today didn’t help. They had a post-nuptial agreement that would make the divorce process relatively straightforward.
In the current circumstances, the document would serve her husband far better. Instead of the fifty-fifty split, winner would take all. Perhaps Dad would have wanted the exact outcome. She couldn’t deny the improvements Christopher had made. Her logical, careful husband had focused all his attention on eliminating waste and creating opportunity.
But he missed some chances for fun. Maybe he had forgotten how to enjoy himself in her absence. She hoped so. Because she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. They could take the Inn from a quaint hideaway to an entertaining destination if they worked together. Or at least they’d enjoy the time spent together. He couldn’t fake the glow in his amber eyes or the warmth of his smile.
A cold chill snaked down her spine like an ice cube traveled each and every vertebrae. The effect was so peculiar. As the goosebumps rose on her arm, she curled her toes.
The sensation wasn’t the same as she’d experienced the night of the fire. Then, she’d been trapped and almost suffocated. This feeling was lighter, more of a tickle than a taunt.
