Good luck. This resort is a lot.
But sometimes a lot is worth it.
Lacey
Margot read it twice.
Then she looked at the resort. The drooping garland. The melting fake snow. The terrace banner flapping between two palm trees like it wanted to surrender before she did.
“She sounds practical,” Margot said.
“She is.”
“And happy?”
Jolene’s eyes softened in a way Margot didn’t miss.
“Getting there.”
Margot tucked the note behind the first page on her clipboard. “Good for her.”
“Maybe good for you too.”
Margot looked at her.
Jolene lifted both brows. “Local contacts, Pine. That’s all I meant.”
“Sure it was.”
Jolene walked off toward the lobby with her towels and her secrets.
Margot looked back once more at the man on the dock.
Evan didn’t wave.
Of course he didn’t.
He just tightened the rope in his hands, checked the knot and turned back to the water like the harbor had asked him a question only he could answer.
That night, Margot sat on the narrow balcony of her staff-rate room with her laptop open and her to-do list glowing in the dark. The ocean was a sound more than a sight, a low rhythm underneath the cicadas. Somewhere below, a couple walked the beach path, their laughter rising and falling with the surf.
She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. Forty-seven items on her clipboard, and the one that kept floating back to the surface had nothing to do with vendors or permits.
The man on the dock. The way he’d looked at her. Not curious, not flirtatious. Just steady. Like he was seeing something she didn’t know was visible.
She shook it off. She had work to do.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. David had posted again. New office in Charlotte.New chapter, same passion.
Her thumb hovered over the screen. Two years ago, that caption would have made her laugh. David had always been good with words. He’d been less good with money, specifically hers, and with the forty vendors who’d called her when his checks bounced.
She set the phone facedown on the railing and stared at the water. The moon was sliding behind a bank of clouds, and the ocean turned to ink.
Her phone buzzed again. Elaine Marston, at eleven fifteen at night.
We need to talk about the ornament collection. My office, 7 AM. Don’t be late.
Margot stared at the screen. She had no idea what ornament collection Elaine was talking about.
