Chapter 4 Haisley
HAISLEY
Haisley was second-guessing her decision to hide long before someone rattled her door handle to test the latch.
It wasn’t suspicious, she told herself, trying to slow her hammering heart. It was perfectly normal for rented houses to have private, locked rooms. Owners kept their personal belongings locked up at their rental properties all the time.
Still, should she just turn herself in? Maybe even ask for a ride into town?
Her experience with rich people had taught her they were wildly unpredictable. Either they would take pity on her and shower her with kindness, or they would fly off the handle and file a complaint because she had single-handedly ruined their vacation. She might get fired.
Anyway, she still had nowhere to go.
The person went away after a very token test, making no attempt to break in and steal things. (Rich people stole the weirdest things. One old woman had taken every drawer pull in her room, as well as all the towels.)
She listened to the distant sounds of them tromping around the house, laughing and calling to each other.
They certainly seemed like a cheerful bunch.
She had to imagine what they were like from the voices she heard, and spent some time picturing who they might be.
There was an opera singer in the bunch, with a booming bass voice.
Probably a short king, because the size of voice rarely matched the singer.
Haisley imagined him with a bushy mustache.
One of the voices joined him in song with a husky soprano, and Haisley pictured a middle-aged lady with graying hair and Bohemian clothing.
A merry masculine laugh was probably a dashing blond rake.
She also heard what sounded like goat hooves on the wooden floor.
Had they brought a pet? Maybe that was why they didn’t want any housekeeping services.
Would Haisley have the willpower to stay out of their way if she heard them being destructive?
She loved the house ridiculously and wasn’t sure she could allow them to hurt it.
She wondered if they read any of her notes.
She’d left them everywhere, little tips and hints.
The digital controls on the induction stove needed a little explanation, and the faucet for the honeymoon suite was a little fussy.
Usually, she’d orient the guests in person individually, but instead, she’d run around leaving sticky notes everywhere she could think of.
It would never match the personal touch of doing it herself, but it ought to help.
She knew from Mr. Barnum’s call that they were coming from Costa Rica—and Haisley could not for the life of her imagine what would possess someone to leave a hot tropical island to come to Alaska over Christmas.
She’d have been perfectly happy on a beach listening to steel drums and drinking margaritas.
One thing her room was sadly lacking was a bar. She’d have to grab a bottle when she raided the kitchen later that night. She was hungry, but she didn’t feel like having any of the snacks she had squirreled away.
It was the emptiness of loneliness, which she hadn’t expected until she heard them having fun and realized she wouldn’t be able to join them at all. For ten days, she was going to be stuck on this side of her door doing nothing.