5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
E mma
I stand rooted to the spot, feeling electricity coursing through my entire body.
What just happened?
I don’t know. My brain is sending a large error message, like one of the old computers at the library.
But it slowly returns to normal as I watch his car retreating in the distance.
The bastard just kissed me.
And I liked it. Like, really liked it. I liked it so much I didn't want him to stop.
He didn’t kiss like I assumed he would–hurried and forceful, taking everything from me to prove his dominance.
No, his kiss was more of a sensuous dance.
It started with a brush of the lips, almost like it was nothing at all.
And then his lips pressed on mine, his lower lip in between mine teasing me into tasting him too. And then once I did, once I nipped his lip, all bets were off. His tongue came out to play, licking the seam of my lips and sucking my lower lip. I couldn’t think, could barely breathe.
All I knew was that I wanted more of it. And more of everything.
Desire curls through my body even now, and I lean back against the wall.
What would have happened if Grandpa didn't call out at that moment? Would he have kept kissing me? Would that hand around my waist have moved down to cup my ass, bringing me closer to him? Maybe I would have felt a hint of the bulge around his–
"Emma Jane Crane!" My Grandpa calls for the second time. "What on earth are you lollygagging out there for? I need your help with getting this damn fish flayed in time for dinner."
"Coming, Grandpa," I call back, feeling frustrated at the heat coursing through my body.
Damn him for that kiss.
And damn him for making me want him like this.
Because of him, I'm over here fantasizing about a man whose name I don't even know, who came up here yelling at me because his daughter ran away from home.
“Where’s your little friend?” Grandpa asks when I join him in the kitchen.
“She went home,” I respond. “Her dad just picked her up.”“Oh. Good thing they didn’t stay for dinner, not sure this fish is enough for the four of us.”
As I help Grandpa skin the fish, I wonder about the man’s relationship with his daughter.
Amelia didn’t look too happy when he showed up, and she looked even less happy to leave with him. Not to mention the fact that she lied to me about her age and whether her parents knew where she was.
Does he really keep her locked up all day, or was she exaggerating?
Being cooped up isn't healthy for a child. Why did he do it? And why did her mother allow it?
The knife nearly slips from my grasp when I realize it.
Amelia likely has a mother, which means that the stranger likely has a wife.
Is she still in the picture? Indignation quickly follows that thought. "Why on earth is he kissing me if he has a wife?"
"Did you say something, honey?"
I glance at Grandpa who looks up from his spot stirring the gravy. I cough and shake my head. "Um no, gramps. It’s nothing. I was just talking to myself."
"Oh. Don’t make a habit of that now. I’ve heard if you talk to yourself long enough, other things start to talk back."
I smile. "You’re so superstitious, Grandpa."
"You live as long as I have and see the things I’ve seen, you’ll learn to be a little superstitious. Otherwise, things just don’t add up." He points his ladle towards the door. "Just look at the Pink Hotel and all the trouble that place has gotten into."
"What do you mean?"
"Well first with the robbery, and then with the Pink Pearl going missing. Then years later, when they were trying to get back on their feet again, there was a devastating fire." He shakes his head, a pained look squeezing across his face. I know he’s remembering my parents and how they died in the hotel fire. The memory still brings an ache to my chest every once in a while, and it’s clearly still painful for him too. My Grandpa typically looks at least twenty years younger than he is, but in those handful of seconds, his wrinkles seem to multiply and he looks every bit of his eighty years.
"Just a whole lot of bad luck for no damn reason," he concludes quietly.
"You have a point there." I nod, covering up my own sadness with a weak smile. He smiles back, but it’s even weaker than mine, his face still haunted, forcing the trauma back to the forefront of my mind.
I beat it back with happy thoughts of them, smiling and dancing in the kitchen, my dad playing with me in the living room, tossing me higher in the air while my mother scolds him.
I don’t like to think of my parent’s death as solely tragic. There was something romantic in the fact that they died together. I like to imagine that they took their last breaths, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
Like the story of Madam Thornley and her lover Victor. Tragic but beautiful as well. Maybe that's why I have such messed-up ideas about love and tragedy being intertwined.
It’s probably why I stayed in my last relationship too long.
And despite me teasing Grandpa about being superstitious, the truth is I'm a little superstitious, too. It's hard not to attribute certain events in my life to the supernatural, particularly living in a town like this, with so much lore and strange happenings.
It's a strange little town, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
The next morning, when I head into the Tiki Bar, the middle row tables are all occupied. I almost get excited until I notice that most of the spots are occupied by Poppy Moon and her conservationist group. The group often has meetings here (like most other groups in town) but they rarely ever buy anything other than pop.
"It’s outrageous," Poppy is saying as I walk in. She’s standing in front of the group, her shoulder-length mix of silver and red hair curling in a mass around her face. Her slender arm points to the sky emphatically as she declares, "Can you believe that this guy just gets to come into town and tell us what we can and cannot do with our lake? Our nature?"
"Yeah." The next voice comes from Hal Rojas, who is not from the conservation group but likes gossip more than any old lady I've ever met. He usually hangs around the bar because it's the most likely place to get a scoop. He also doesn’t order much except a beer. "He can’t just do that. You know I never liked him since he rolled in here. And Andy, down at the gas station says he talks snooty-like, like he's better than us."
"Speaking of rolling in, did you see what he came in with?" Lena, who is in Poppy’s conservationist group, points out. "That car probably uses a ton of gas every year, killing the environment. I’m sure he could give two shits about his carbon emissions though."
"Who are you guys talking about?" I ask as I set my purse on the counter.
"The new owner of the Pink Hotel." Poppy spins to me, her sharp eyes flashing with anger. "Have you met him? Yule said he came over for lunch yesterday and complained about the burger."
"Oh him." I try to respond less than enthusiastically, even though for whatever reason, my mind plays back the video of that kiss. "Yeah, we met. He ordered a burger and then had us remake it five times."
"Talk about waste," Lena says shaking her head in disgust.
"Yeah," I tuck my hands into the pockets of my cut-offs, curiosity getting the better of me. "Wait, he bought the hotel?" I heard from my Grandpa that the Pink Hotel had been sold but I never thought that man would be the buyer.
I was kind of hoping the buyer was someone more eccentric, who wanted to revive the hotel or turn it into a proper tourist landmark. The Pink Hotel has been a staple in this town and it’s pretty important to Grandpa and me as well, for sentimental and probably morbid reasons.
It’s where Grandpa got his first job.
It’s where we celebrated both Mom and Dad’s last birthdays.
And it’s also where my parents died.
"Well, according to Hal he did." Lena points at the demolition expert worker who gives a salute.
"Heard it from One-eyed Mark," Hal says, referring to Mark Piedmont who works construction. "His boss is hoping that he gets the reno contract."
"And the worst part is that he's banning us from holding the annual obstacle course at the lakeside of the Pink Hotel," Poppy iterates, clearly not done with her rant. "Pastor Allan and his group went over last night to talk to him and let him know about our yearly traditions. But he brushed him off. He said, any unauthorized person on that land would be deemed a trespasser and would be reported to the police."
Alarm shoots through me. "Wait. Does that mean that we’re not having the Fall fair there?"
"Nope. As a matter of fact, we're not having any fairs there. Not the Fall Fair, or Halloween. Even my nature walks are out of the question. He has strictly forbidden anyone from entering the premises and the surrounding woodland because, as you know, the owners of The Pink Hotel own that too."
"That’s not right," I announce. "We’ve held our fair there every year since forever. It’s a major tourist attraction. How does he get to come in and change our long-standing tradition?"
"We don’t know but the mayor is going to let him."
I shake my head. "Not after I talk to him."
I pick up my bag, ignoring Yule's call, and head out once more. I need to talk to Mayor Duncan. Need to explain that whatever this stranger is doing is going to negatively affect the town.
We’re already struggling to attract tourists as is and the few who come do so during our annual events.
Our fairs, especially the Fall Fair, attract a bunch of people from neighboring towns and there's no other space like the Pink Hotel to hold all those people. This means, if we can't host it there, we'll have to cancel the event.
And I fear what that would do for businesses in town that rely on tourists.
Businesses like my grandpa's tiki bar.
My heart races, as I cross the town square, towards the main street. I was hoping that the incoming tourists for the Fall Fair would make up for our abysmal sales so far.
If there's no Fall Fair, then no tourists. Which means we'll be operating at a loss.
At this rate, we’ll have to let go of Yule and Carly too.
I need to make Mayor Duncan see reason. He goes fishing with my Grandpa every Friday so it's easy enough for me to get an impromptu meeting with him.
But once I tell him the problem, he sighs and leans back on his creaky seat.
"I don’t know what to tell you, Emma," he says. "I really can’t do anything about it."
"Yes you can," I say, frustrated. "You're our mayor. Can't you declare the woods by the Pink Hotel protected land or something? It’s been abandoned for decades now.”
"That's not exactly how it works kiddo," he says. "Look, I sympathize with you and Poppy Moon, but I can’t just take a man's land from him. That’s not how America works...anymore."
I chew the side of my cheek, trying to figure out an alternative.
“Wait.” A realization suddenly occurs to me. “Grandpa said your family bought the hotel some time ago. Did you sell it to him?”
Mayor Duncan’s chagrined looks is all the answer I need. Oh no. My only hope slips away.
“Can’t you take it back?” I ask weakly.
He shakes his head. “That hotel was losing me money each year. The Tudors paid me a generous amount for it. I couldn’t just let that slip away.”
I blow out breath through my lips and sigh.
After I leave, I stop on the sidewalk and think.
What do I do now?
A crack of thunder can be heard. The sky above is a dismal blue, matching my mood.
No hope on the horizon.