Six Thirty
Chapter twelve
The moment Margot stepped into Elaine’s office, she knew the meeting wasn’t going to go well. The espresso machine on the boss’s credenza was off.
Elaine stood behind her desk, her hands clasping the back of the chair. She didn’t offer coffee. She didn’t offer a chair.
Evan stood near the door, damp at the collar, the coil of dock line still in one hand, as though he’d come straight from the water and meant to go straight back to it.
“The board chair called twenty minutes ago.” Elaine’s voice was flat, stripped of the careful warmth Margot had heard in their first phone call. “He saw the empty display case on the Channel 12 website. The story’s already running.”
“I’m aware.”
“Lila Sloane’s attorney contacted us before the police finished taking statements. She’s considering a claim against the resort for negligent security.” Elaine placed both hands flat on the desk. “The event coordinator was responsible for the security plan. That’s you, Ms. Pine.”
Not Margot. Ms. Pine. The formality landed like a door closing. She was aware of Evan behind her, hearing all of it, and she kept her chin level because he was.
“The keycard system was supposed to have battery backup. I was told by the vendor that it did.”
“Were you told, or did you verify?”
“The panel was forced.” Evan’s voice was even. “Padlock pried out of the trim. Whoever did this came for the glass specifically. That’s not a security plan failing. That’s a person.”
Elaine’s gaze moved to him, then back to Margot. “I’m not assigning blame for the theft. I’m asking whether the case was as secure as I was told it was.”
The question sat between them. Margot knew the answer.
She had asked for the spec sheet, cross-checked the model number, and filed the vendor email behind the security tab.
Then Elaine’s midnight attachments, Lila’s humidity demands, and Caleb’s lighting changes had buried the one step she still wanted: a physical test of the failover.
Due diligence on paper. Not enough, maybe, but not nothing.
“I verified the documentation,” she said. “I should have tested the unit in person.”
Elaine nodded once. Not forgiveness. Acknowledgment. “We’re not canceling the expo. The vendors are here, the guests are booked. I need you to focus on the programming.” She paused. “Let security and the police handle the theft.”
“And if they don’t find the ornaments?”
“Then Lila’s attorney files, the insurance company investigates, and this resort has a very expensive conversation with its board.” Elaine’s voice didn’t waver. “Which is why I need the rest of this expo to be flawless. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Margot turned for the door.
“Margot.” Elaine’s voice caught her at the threshold. “I hired you because I believed you could handle it. I still believe that. But I need you to prove me right.”
She walked out without answering. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.
Evan followed a few steps behind, and in the hallway, he said he had a night check to finish on the marina and turned for the stairwell that cut down to the docks. She watched him go and then realized she wasn’t ready to walk back into the lobby yet.
She sat on the top step, back against the wall, palms flat on her knees to stop them shaking.
The concrete was cold through her slacks.
A single fluorescent tube flickered above the landing, casting everything in a flat, unflattering light.
From somewhere below, she could hear the muffled sound of the lobby, guests being corralled, and the low static of police radios.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She didn’t look at it. If it was Elaine, she’d deal with it later. If it was David, with his impeccable timing for showing up at her worst moments, she’d deal with that later too.
The stairwell door opened below her, and Evan came up through it.
He stopped when he saw her. He was carrying a flashlight and a coil of dock line, damp at the collar, smelling like salt water. For a moment neither of them spoke. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
He looked at her for a long beat. Then he sat down on the step below hers, set the flashlight between his feet, and said nothing.
The silence should have been awkward. It wasn’t. It was the same quality of silence she’d noticed about him the first day on the dock. Steady. Patient. Like he had nowhere else to be and no opinion about how long she needed to sit here.
She became aware of small things. The way his forearms rested on his knees, relaxed and still. The salt dried white along his collar. The fact that he’d chosen to sit one step below her instead of beside her, which meant she didn’t have to look at him directly. She could just be in the same space.
It was the most generous thing anyone had done for her in two years.
“Thought you had a night check,” she said.
“I do. Stairwell’s the shortcut to Dock Three.” He turned the flashlight in a slow circle on the step. “Didn’t expect to find you on the way back up.”
“So, this is an accident.”
“I don’t mind accidents.”
She almost smiled. The tightness in her chest loosened by a fraction, not much, but enough to feel.
“You were right about the power.” She inhaled. “The lock defaulted to open when the breaker tripped.”
“This was planned, Margot.” His voice was quiet and even. “Somebody who knows this resort took those ornaments. The question isn’t what you should have done. It’s who.”
She stared at him. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“Since the lights went out.”
“Why?”
He was quiet for a moment. The stairwell hummed with distant air conditioning.
“Because I’ve seen bad things happen at this resort before. And I didn’t do enough then.” His hand went still on the flashlight, the slow circle stopping mid-turn. “I’d rather not repeat that.”
She didn’t push. She remembered what Jolene had told her. Lost his wife. An accident during the boat parade. “Elaine told me to stay out of it. Focus on the guests. Let the police handle the investigation.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?”
She picked up her clipboard from the step beside her. Looked at it. Looked at him. “No.”
The corner of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile. But close.
“Good.” He stood, tucked the flashlight into his back pocket, and offered her his hand.
She looked at it. Calloused palm. Steady fingers. No hesitation. The hand of someone who pulled ropes and fixed engines and didn’t overthink the gesture of reaching out.
She took it.
His grip was warm and rough and steady, and he pulled her up easily. He let go the moment she was on her feet. No lingering. No performance. Just help, offered and received.
But the warmth stayed in her palm after he’d let go. She was aware of it the way you’re aware of sunlight on your skin after you step inside.
“Meet me at the dock shed tomorrow morning,” he said. “Six thirty. I want to show you something.”
“What is it?”
“You need to see for yourself.”
He was gone before she could ask what he meant.
She stood in the stairwell, pen in one hand, the other still open at her side. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead.
She closed her hand slowly, like she was holding on to something she wasn’t ready to name.