Chapter 12
Unfortunately for Erin, ongoing job demands ensured she didn’t have time to even ponder it. A pair of newlyweds from the US were first-time visitors to the island and apparently due to arrive at the resort that afternoon.
The Palms’ honeymoon package included a Bentley pick-up service as standard, and the couple wasn’t at all pleased when, after an hour of waiting, no transportation appeared.
When Erin took the new Mrs Beaumont’s angry call, she learned that their initial flight from Iowa had been delayed, which meant they’d had to scramble through two airport transfers to make it to St Lucia.
And, upon arrival at Hewanorra, they had discovered that no car awaited.
But when Erin searched for their reservation on the system, she found none at all.
While tentatively enquired about, it seemed the Beaumonts’ reservation had never actually been finalised.
Mercifully, though, thanks to Lily’s quick thinking with that jilted groom from Ireland, a vacant honeymoon suite had now become available.
The perfect serendipitous opportunity to highlight the resort’s excellence, and Erin’s guest relations competence.
Having deftly allayed the couple’s concerns about being stranded in St Lucia without accommodation, she set to work arranging for the car to collect them, and the housekeeping service to get the suite ready.
Thankfully, all came together seamlessly.
When the newlyweds finally arrived, Erin met them with a tray of champagne and a bouquet of local flowers for the bride, who by her posture and absolute refusal to look at her new husband, was still seething at the day’s events.
If she had to guess, she would bet that the hapless groom was to blame for the messed-up reservation and, despite the last-minute save, Erin figured there wasn’t going to be much romance in the Honeymoon Haven that night.
Not the best start to married life.
As Makellah proceeded with checking them in, and a relieved Erin wished them a wonderful stay, the bride marched from the lobby while her husband lingered behind her.
Erin was about to breathe a sigh of relief at a crisis averted, when a scream from nearby jolted her, and everyone else in the lobby.
Now what …
Erin looked around to see a woman in her mid-to-late forties sprawled on the floor inside the entryway, the skirt of her floral print dress up around her thighs and one leg bent beneath her body.
She quickly ran out from behind the front desk as her concierge colleague Nadine also moved to assist. They met in the middle, each trying to assess whether the guest was injured, and how badly.
The floor didn’t appear wet or slippery and it didn’t seem that she could’ve tripped on anything in the nearby vicinity.
‘Are you all right?’ Erin asked, concerned, as she knelt beside the woman, who was now sitting up a little. Her cheeks were red and her brown eyes shifted to and fro as she blinked rapidly.
‘I’ll be OK,’ she answered in a low tone. ‘I tripped on the steps, I think,’ she mumbled as she attempted to fix her clothing and get up from the floor.
‘Don’t move. We should get someone to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself,’ Erin suggested, genuine worry in her voice.
A slip and fall weren’t always so straightforward.
She remembered a similar incident in Vegas where a visitor had tripped and broken her ankle.
She didn’t realise until she’d put weight on it and a medic had to be called.
‘No, really, I’m fine,’ the guest assured her quickly, a hint of a New York accent leaking through.
‘I really think you should wait for someone to check you out—’
The guest’s pleading gaze silenced her immediately.
‘Please … ’ she glanced around at the faces staring at her predicament and turned back.
‘I really want to get to my room,’ she whispered, and Erin realised the flush in her cheeks wasn’t a result of the tropical heat outside, but embarrassment. ‘I was about to check in …’
‘I understand. Let me help you though.’ Erin offered her arm. The woman took it and got to her feet with relative ease, though Erin noted she still seemed to be suffering some discomfort in the leg that had been bent beneath her. ‘What’s your name? I’ll get you checked in quick-smart.’
‘Molly Cooke,’ she revealed, her gaze avoiding contact with anyone else’s.
‘Are you OK to walk, Molly?’ she asked, summoning a porter to assist with her luggage.
‘I’m good now, thanks.’
Erin left her in the care of Nadine while she checked the system and found the reservation easily. But there was a problem – again related to Lily’s earlier room machinations. Molly’s room had been double-booked.
Her gaze flew back to the poor woman, who looked as if she really did want the ground to open up and swallow her; to avoid any further delay and allay her discomfort, Erin quickly made a couple of amendments and upgraded this particular guest to a much nicer beachside suite.
According to a note accompanying the reservation, Molly Cooke was the daughter of a long-standing and beloved repeat visitor to the resort.
Her mother, Eugenie Cooke, had apparently been coming to The Palms since its very inception back in the seventies, but had sadly died sometime earlier this year.
One of her last requests was that her ‘happy place’ offer her grieving daughter the same great welcome she’d enjoyed over the years.
Erin quickly returned to the daughter’s side, key card in hand.
‘You’re all set now, Molly,’ she stated as she passed the card to the porter.
‘Jamal here will take you up. I’m Erin, by the way, the new guest relations manager.
So if you need anything – anything at all during your stay – please let me know.
I’ll let you get settled in your room now, and then make a point to pop up and check on you in a little while, if that’s all right? ’
Molly considered her after a momentary glance, and shrugging, replied, ‘I guess. You really don’t have to—’
‘I want to,’ Erin interjected sincerely. She’d make it her business to ensure Molly had the easiest possible time while here grieving her mother.
It was the least she could do.