Chapter Four
Kivi
“Okay,” Kivi breathed, skidding to a halt in the guests’ lounge. “We’re done. Everything’s done. Bang on time. We’re good.”
“You talking to yourself again?” Eva said from the dining room. Kivi jumped out of her skin.
“Jesus Christ, Ev,” she said. “What are you still doing here? I thought you left half an hour ago.”
“You think I was going to leave this place unattended while you were in the shower?” Eva raised her eyebrows as she appeared in the doorway.
“What if one of the guests had come looking for you? I know I’m a poor substitute, as your sister, but I still work here.
Even if they rarely see me because I’m always behind-the-scenes. ”
“True.” Kivi scrubbed at her blonde hair, still damp because she hadn’t had time to dry it properly.
“That’s why I never normally shower during the day.
I just got so sweaty on my walk with Toto, and I didn’t want to greet the new guest looking like I’d been pulled through a hedge backwards.
Not if she’s staying for six weeks. And especially not with the name Saskia Saltmarshe – I mean, did you ever hear of such a posh name? ”
“Ah. I see the problem. I see why you were running around this place like a human whirlwind before you went out. You’re worried that this place won’t be good enough for her. But didn’t you say that the booking was made by some secretary at a magazine?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it!” Kivi turned to her, panic gripping her again.
“British Living magazine. It’s like the Vogue of lifestyle magazines.
This Saltmarshe lady is probably the CEO!
Far too important to make such a booking herself.
She’ll probably be arriving in a bloody limo, or a fancy new BMW, or a-”
“Ten year old Honda Jazz?” Eva interrupted. She was looking out of the window, and Kivi followed her gaze to where a small silver car was bumping across the gravel.
“That’s probably her personal assistant, or something.” Kivi felt almost electrocuted. “Oh, shit, there was only one room booked, right? She’s not coming with a whole entourage?”
“You took the call,” Eva pointed out. “But at no point did you mention more than one woman coming. Did you Google her?”
“No, of course I didn’t Google her! I’m nervous enough already, without finding out any more about her.” Kivi wrung her hands, watching the car outside come to a stop in a free space. But Eva stepped in front of her, blocking her gaze.
“Kiera Chadwick,” she said sternly. “Pull yourself together. You’ve been running this guest house for six years, and you’ve never once left a bad mark on a customer.
If they are picky, or discerning, you deal with it.
And you deal with it like a boss, so they always leave smiling.
You are not going to change that record today.
Now go and wait by the door, put your game face on, and answer it as Kivi the hostess, not Kivi the gibbering bag of nerves. ”
A harsh talk from her older sister, but it did the trick.
Kivi disappeared out into the hallway, and checked her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair, now released from its ponytail, framed her face exactly as she liked it, while the eyeliner she had swiped across her lids gave her look a dash of professionalism.
There you go, analysing your physical appearance again…
“Incoming!” Eva called, and a few seconds later there was a knock at the door.
Game face on.
“Hello!” Kivi swung the door open with a beam. “Welcome to Sandy Dunes Guest Hou…”
“Kiera?”
Shite.
“Um… beach lady. Sorry – Miss Saltmarshe. How… how are you?”
“I’m… better.” Miss Saltmarshe stood on the doorstep, looking perplexed. “So you’re Kivi Chadwick. The owner of this B&B.”
“Well, guest house, actually,” Kivi blurted before she could stop herself. “We do more than bed and breakfast, you see. We do dinner, and we have a big lounge, and-”
“Miss Saltmarshe.” Thank God for Eva. She butted in, saving the poor guest from Kivi’s inane rambling. Miss Saltmarshe is SO much more attractive up close. “Welcome to Sandy Dunes. I’m Eva Chadwick, Kivi’s sister. May I show you to your room?”
“I’ll do it,” Kivi said, finally taking a gulp of air. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be in charge, after all.” She tried to laugh, but she could feel her face heating up. “Is it just the one suitcase, Miss Saltmarshe?”
“Yes, just this. Is my car all right, parked out there? I’m not going to get a ticket, or…?”
“No, no, of course not.” Kivi laughed for real this time. “That would be really silly, wouldn’t it?” Rhetorical question, rhetorical question! Before Miss Saltmarshe could try to answer, she picked the hefty suitcase up by the side handle and headed for the stairs. “Follow me!” she called.
“Enjoy your stay,” she heard Eva say, then she heard Miss Saltmarshe climbing the stairs behind her.
“It feels a bit of a rabbit warren, at first,” Kivi said as she led the guest through the corridors.
“The place is bigger than it looks on the outside. But… this is you. Room Six – our biggest and nicest room. I figured that if you’re going to be staying here for six weeks, you could do with the extra space. ”
“The top room? Oh, the magazine probably won’t like that,” Miss Saltmarshe said absently, watching Kivi unlock the door.
“Well, I figured that as the head honcho, no expense would be spared, so-”
“The head honcho?” Miss Saltmarshe’s voice was so incredulous, it made Kivi freeze mid-way through opening the door. “You thought I was an executive? God, no. I’m a freelance writer. They’ve sent me down here for six weeks on a project. That’s why it wasn’t me who made the booking.”
“Oh.” Kivi’s face began heating up again, when it had just returned to normal temperature.
“I… my apologies. Well, the point stands that you still have the biggest room. And that you might like the extra space. So… here we are.” She finally swung the door open, and the two of them stepped in.
She began to rattle off her usual spiel, pointing at each article in question.
“Bed, chair, table, ensuite bathroom, kettle, coffee machine, window, skylight, skylight blind, plug sockets, fan. Breakfast is served between eight and ten, and dinner is at six, by pre-booking with me each morning. Dinner tonight is homemade fishcakes and roasted new potatoes, made by yours truly. And if at any point you wish to leave, the exits are clearly marked by… well, doors. Or windows, but I wouldn’t recommend smashing them.
Hefty bill.” She laughed, then finally paused to take a deep breath in.
“Now – will you be dining with us tonight? And do you have any dietary requirements?”
“I… that’s… no.” Miss Saltmarshe looked stunned. “I mean, yes I’d like to dine with you, but no, no dietary requirements. I must admit, you lost me back there. That was a lot to take in.”
“Don’t worry.” Kivi laughed again. Don’t sound like a maniac. Be professional. “It’s all on that sheet on the table, along with the WiFi details and some information about local amenities and things to do.”
“That might be quite useful, actually,” Miss Saltmarshe said. “I’ve never been to Cornwall before. And I have to write six articles on it. Nothing like a bit of research.”
“I’m always happy to help,” Kivi said before she could stop herself.
“I’m a Cornwall native. Born and bred. Born and bred further inland, mind you, not by the sea, but I know a lot about it.
So if you need any information, feel free to ask.
Or Google it. That works too.” She laughed yet again, nervously.
What are you doing? Haven’t you got enough on your plate?
“That’s very kind. Thank you.” Miss Saltmarshe sank down onto the armchair, and reached for the zip of her boots. “I think I’ll unpack and see if I can get any more thoughts down.”
Kivi took her cue. “Of course.” She turned around and headed for the door. “Oh! Dinner is at six o’clock, I can’t remember if I said. No dress code. You can’t miss the dining room.” She smiled. “We’ll see you in a few hours, Miss Saltmarshe.”
“Oh, please call me Saskia.” Miss Saltmarshe’s mouth twitched. “Miss Saltmarshe makes me feel like my father’s daughter.”
“Ah.” Kivi didn’t really know what to say. That was a bit of a random interjection. “Well, you can call me Kivi. No need to bother with Miss Chadwick, or even Kiera. Just Kivi.”
“Weed,” Saskia said immediately, then she did blush.
“Weed?” Kivi repeated, failing to keep the incredulity out of her voice.
“Oh. Um… that’s what ‘kivi’ means. In Estonian. It’s street slang for cannabis. I had an Estonian friend at uni. And when we partook of the drug itself, he…”
“Stone!” Kivi burst out. What the actual fuck? “That’s what it really means. In Estonian. I’ve never touched cannabis in my life.”
Face on fire, she left, and the door slammed behind her. She hadn’t meant to slam it. But damn, it had felt good.
A search on Google showed her that Miss Saltmarshe had been right about her name’s other meaning.
Kivi had never heard it before. If that was where Miss Saltmarshe’s mind had gone after being introduced to her, how many times had that happened in the past without her knowledge?
How many people had thought of cannabis upon meeting her?
And why couldn’t the woman have kept it to herself?
She and Miss Saskia Saltmarshe were not going to get on well if the woman really had as poor a filter as that.
She huffed an aggrieved sigh as she descended the stairs, aware that she was probably overreacting, but recognising her reaction as one borne of stress.
It looked like it was going to be a long six weeks.