Birdie nodded thoughtfully. “Good point. Speculation is that your lover shot you.”
“I wouldn’t think so.” Pause. “Dunno.” Pause. “There’s speculation?”
“You know how the boys and girls are. Gossip is their life’s blood.”
“The boys and girls?”
“The boys and girls at the resort who spend too much time making beds. The staff who stand around waiting for guests to arrive and have nothing to entertain them until—oh God!—everyone arrives at once, all the crises need to be dealt with now and no one has time to catch their breath. Same shit as in the Army, only without all that messy death.”
They both nodded. Birdie might be maligning “the boys and girls,” but Birdie and Kellen had both been there, in the military, doing the most boring grunt work day after day until the moment the mortars started raining down, the enemy advanced and suddenly there weren’t enough seconds in a minute. Resort work was usually less dramatic, but the atmosphere was comparable.
Birdie grinned at her. “Want me to make up a big lie? Entertain them?”
“Ick.” The idea of speculation gave Kellen the creeps.
“Your husband caught you with your wealthy lover, shot you both and turned the gun on himself. They both died, but you lived, and in your despair, you joined the military.”
Too close for comfort. “The wealthy lover and the husband? That’s so done.”
“You’re right. I could make it juicier.” Before Kellen could tell her no, Birdie drew a quavering breath. “I want people to talk to me again, to meet my eyes and forget my husband died in my arms.”
“I swear I didn’t tell them.”
“You didn’t have to. It was in the news, and inevitable someone would… Anyway, they feel so bad for me all the time they make me remember Daryl even more.”
Damn it. Kellen didn’t want the staff gossiping about her, but if they were going to do it anyway, why not allow Birdie to use her? It couldn’t hurt. Not really. “Well, I always say, if you’re going to tell a lie, tell a big one.”
Birdie grinned, a bright smile that lit her long, thin face and made her beautiful. “Let me work on it. I’ll get all those folks hopping!” She pointed. “The plane just dropped out of the clouds. We’ll be on duty soon.”
The plane came in fast, hit the runway and skidded on the wet asphalt.
Kellen closed her eyes.
In a patient, amused tone, Birdie said, “You’re really afraid of flying, aren’t you?” Kellen’s crew were eternally entertained by her horror of leaving the ground.
“I’m not afraid of flying. I’m afraid of hitting the ground too hard and exploding into flames.” Kellen sneaked a peek as the pilot straightened out the plane. “Also, it makes me want to throw up.”
“You can take Dramamine.”
“How’s that going to help with the impact and the flames?”
The plane came to a halt. The pilot opened the door, lowered the steps and secured the plane while Kellen parked the van as close as possible.
Birdie gathered rain ponchos. Kellen got the first box of hors d’oeuvres, and together they hurried up the stairs. Inside, they found the passengers gathering their belongings.
Birdie did the honors. “Welcome to Yearning Sands Resort. I’m Birdie and this is Kellen.”
Kellen smiled and waved, scanned the faces and completed her roster.
JUSTIN AND JULIA FLORENCE:
NEWLYWEDS. YOUNG. REALLY YOUNG. HIGH SCHOOL?
SHIVERING SHERLOCKS:
SIX FEMALES FROM ALASKA. DEBBIE, CANDY, RITA, NANCY, TAMMY AND PATTY, LATE 60S–EARLY 70S. ANNUALLY VISIT YEARNING SANDS FOR MYSTERY WEEKEND.
NILS BROOKS:
MALE, 30S, 6’, 180 LBS. DARK-RIMMED GLASSES. CUTE. NERDY.
Kellen didn’t recognize anybody and nobody appeared to recognize her. She relaxed a previously unnoticed tension in her shoulders. She’d been thinking too much about Greenleaf, making herself jumpy. Because Xander had told her to, she breathed, and because she was in the hospitality business, she smiled.
Birdie continued, “We’ll be transporting you to the resort. We’ve parked the van at the end of the stairs. As you can imagine, in this weather, our goal is to keep you as dry as possible.”
Some chuckles.
“It’s too windy for umbrellas, but if you need a poncho, I have them. One size fits all!” Birdie raised the yellow plastic over her head. “But first, Kellen has some hors d’oeuvres to sustain you until you get to the resort. Help yourselves to one on the way out the door, and don’t worry—we have more in the van.”
The promise of treats got the group moving in a hurry. Everyone took one, descended the steps, gasped at the lash of the wind and rain and headed for the van.
Out of the corner of her mouth, Birdie asked, “Are those two old enough to be married?”
Kellen knew exactly what she meant.
Justin and Julia held hands and smiled at each other. When the ladies from Alaska asked about their love story, the two of them gushed that they’d met as freshmen at Wenatchee Valley College, dated until they both graduated, and gotten married in January because it was the cheapest time of the year.
The pilot unloaded the luggage onto a cart and pushed it toward the back of the van; when Birdie started to lift the suitcases, Justin leaped forward and took over. Nice kid. Julia waited patiently, then the newlyweds crawled into the back of the van and snuggled and kissed.
“The Shivering Sherlocks ladies are a hoot,” Kellen said to Birdie.
They were. Tammy White seemed to be in charge; she herded them toward the seats, consulted her clipboard and told them their room numbers and who their roommates would be. When she was done, the other ladies saluted, laughed and teased her, then talked over each other in rapidly increasing volume. Debbie had no-nonsense iron gray hair, Candy had dyed hers a soft blond, but they were obviously twins. The ladies helped themselves to the hors d’oeuvres and pried into Kellen’s and Birdie’s backgrounds.
Nils Brooks came down the steps late, holding his computer case to his chest like a child he needed to protect. He ducked to get into the van, smacked his head, backed away and took off his rain-smeared glasses. He slipped them into his pocket.
Kellen caught a glimpse of his eyes. Brown, with thick black lashes.
Kellen took a long step back. She knew him. Didn’t she?
“He’s an author,” Mrs. White told Birdie and Kellen, as if that explained everything.
Kellen watched from behind as he climbed into the seat in the back corner and scrunched away from the newlyweds. Those eyes… She remembered those eyes. But his face… No. She didn’t remember him at all.
“He can write in my book anytime,” Birdie quietly told Kellen.
Startled, Kellen raised her brows at Birdie.
“I’m a widow,” Birdie said. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision.”
Kellen could hardly argue with that. He was nice to look at. And those eyes… “He’s not what I expected. On the phone, he sounded impatient. The way he questioned me about the area—he thought he was the shitz. That man has a dimple.”
“More than one, I’d imagine.”
“I’m talking about the one in his chin.” With everybody seated, Kellen got into the driver’s seat.
Birdie lowered the jump seat, faced the guests and picked up the second box of hors d’oeuvres.
“Hey, folks!” The pilot stuck his head in the van, startling everyone. “It’s getting dark. The weather’s closing in. I’ve got ice on the wings and I’m not going to chance taking my plane out. Mind if I stay at the resort until it clears?”
CHAD GRIFFIN:
MALE, 40S, PILOT, ACCOMPLISHED WOMANIZER (IN HIS OWN MIND). EATS TOO MUCH, DRINKS TOO MUCH, DRAMATIZES HIS (UNLIKELY) MILITARY BACKGROUND. SHIFTLESS, LAZY, IRRITATING TO RESORT STAFF, BARNACLE-LIKE (DIFFICULT TO REMOVE).
Still, Kellen had no choice, so she said, “Of course, Chad, come on in.”
He flung in his carry-on, slid into the passenger’s seat and turned to face the group behind him. “You’re not rid of me yet.”