Chapter 9
LINDA
The first soft light of morning had only just begun to lift the dark off Bay View Drive when Linda let herself into the back hallway of Hearts Hotel and walked the small private corridor to Uncle George’s office.
She hadn’t slept much, but what sleep she had managed to get, had been the deep and dreamless kind that came at the end of a day that had used up every last reserve a person had.
Linda had woken at five, made herself a cup of coffee in the quiet kitchen of Heart House, and written a small note for Sophia and Jake telling them to come over to the hotel for breakfast when they woke up.
Then she’d walked the short path through the side garden to the hotel’s staff entrance.
The kids would not be up before seven. That gave Linda an hour and a half to start putting her shoulder to the work.
Uncle George’s office was at the back of the hotel, behind the kitchen and beside the small accounting room Martin used. Linda found the lights, switched one on, and stood for a moment, looking at the room.
Nothing had changed in all the years she’d been alive.
The antique oak desk that predated the hotel.
The two well-worn leather armchairs by the window.
The framed photographs along the wall, the original opening of Hearts Hotel, her grandfather Heart in a white apron standing beside the old front desk, U
ncle George at thirty-five at the door of the newly expanded lobby, Linda’s father in his army uniform on leave the year before he was killed.
The sight of her father’s photograph caused a lump in Linda’s throat in a way she had not expected.
She crossed to it, touched the corner of the frame lightly, and let herself look at the young man who had been her father for the first seven years of her life.
He was so handsome, and her older brother bore a striking resemblance to him.
She smiled and then turned toward the desk to get to work.
Linda settled into Uncle George’s old desk chair and began.
Uncle George’s desk was well organized and tidy, just like it always was.
That is one of the reasons Linda had always just thought that he had everything under control.
He was one of the most organized people she knew.
Right down to labeling everything he could stick a label on.
But it seemed that such levels of organization and tidiness did not necessarily mean he was on top of his affairs.
Instead, it was the tidiness of a man who had been quietly drowning and had taken to organizing his drowning into neat stacks. Linda saw it in the first ten minutes.
Three folders of unpaid invoices were arranged by date, with the oldest from 12 months ago.
A separate folder labeled in Uncle George’s handwriting: Things to attend to when funds allow.
A small stack of supplier letters tied with a rubber band.
A printout of the previous quarter’s bookings with hand-marked notations beside each one indicating which guests Uncle George had quietly turned away because he didn’t have the rooms.
Linda’s chest tightened with each new piece of paper.
She read for the better part of an hour as the morning gradually lifted outside the window.
Slowly, she was beginning to put together the shape of what Maggie had told her at the hospital.
The hotel was not just struggling. The hotel was sinking, and her uncle had been bailing it with a teaspoon for three years.
The only reason it was still even limping along was thanks to Tom and Maggie.
Linda rubbed her temples, wondering just how much he owed them, and made a mental note to ask Martin if he was keeping track of that when he was back.
She reached the lower-right desk drawer and was surprised to find it locked.
Linda sat back in the chair, frowning. The other three drawers had opened easily. Only this one had a small brass keyhole and would not budge. She tried to wiggle the drawer open and then forcefully yank it. But it didn’t budge.
“What the heck is in here?” Linda muttered, looking around for something to try to pick the lock with. “You have a safe for valuable and confidential stuff. So why is this drawer locked?” She picked up the platinum letter opener and eyed it. “Do people actually still send snail mail?”
Linda was about to try to pick the lock when a voice from the doorway jolted her, making her drop the letter opener that clattered to the floor.
“Miss Linda?” Rosa appeared in the doorway of the office.
Rosa had a silver tray in her hands.
“Hello, Rosa,” Linda said warmly, her mouth watering as the aroma of the food drifted towards her.
“I brought you some breakfast,” Rosa said, crossing to the desk and setting the tray down beside Linda.
On the tray was a French press of coffee, a small jug of cream, two warm croissants, a dish of butter, some shredded cheese, and fresh strawberry preserves.
“This looks delicious, thank you, Rosa.” Linda sighed happily. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until the aroma of the food hit her.
“You are welcome, Miss Linda,” Rosa said with a pleased smile. “I will make breakfast for the children when they come over. I have already asked the chef to make their favorite pancakes.”
“They’ll love that,” Linda said. “Thank you, Rosa. I was so lost in everything here, I didn’t even realize the time.”
Rosa nodded and turned to go, but a thought struck Linda, stopping her.
“Rosa, before you go. Do you happen to know where my uncle keeps the key for that bottom drawer?” Linda pointed to the one in question.
Rosa turned to glance at the desk, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“I’m not sure,” Rosa answered. “But if there is a key, it will be on that big bunch he keeps. I think it is upstairs in his apartment. I can fetch the bunch for you.”
“If you could, I would be grateful.” Linda’s eyes landed on the locked drawer once again. “I wonder what’s in here that he wouldn’t put in the safe?”
“Something that Mr. Martin, Miss Maggie, or Mr. Tom couldn’t get, maybe?” Rosa offered an answer. “They all have access to Mr. George’s safe, so if he has a locked drawer, I would assume that was the reason.”
“That makes sense,” Linda said, her head tilted slightly as she looked at the lock. “Is this lock new? Do you know, Rosa?” She ran a finger over it. “It looks bright and shiny, and I don’t remember this desk having drawer locks.”
“It could be,” Rosa nodded. “Let me go get the bunch of keys for you. You will need them anyway while Mr. George is incapacitated.”
“I can’t believe that Uncle George still keeps that ridiculous bunch of keys with a label on every single one.” Linda gave a soft laugh, picturing it.
Rosa’s smile widened, and she laughed. “He does still have it. There is a spare key for every door in this hotel, as well as one for every door in Heart House, and the workshop. All fully labeled.”
“Has he ever heard of keycards?” Linda sighed and shook her head.
“Mr. George is not a man for modern technology,” Rosa said fondly. “He prefers good old-fashioned things that work and don’t rely on electricity or computers to function.”
“I know,” Linda agreed with her. “It would make things a whole lot easier.”
“The staff all say that they know when Mr. George is approaching because of the keys jangling,” Rosa told her.
“Yeah, I know,” Linda agreed, nodding. “It used to be a great bonus when Michael, Maggie, and I were young. We knew when he was coming.”
“Yes, and then you would stop whatever mischief you were up to,” Rosa remembered. “Let me go get the keys for you.”
She left, and Linda poured herself a fresh cup of coffee from the French press, broke off a piece of warm croissant, then spread on some butter, which melted into the soft layers as she chewed.
The morning had started to take on the gentle, warm rhythm of a Sweet Blossom Bay summer.
Outside the window, the bay was the soft pearl color it took on at sunrise.
A pelican drifted across the line of palms at the edge of the parking lot.
Linda turned to the computer and began to log in. She knew Uncle George’s password as most anyone who worked on his computer probably did, and he hadn’t changed it in years. She shook her head, making another mental note to start giving Uncle George lessons in computer security.
Linda had just opened the booking system when the thunder of running feet came through the back hallway, followed by the joyful skitter of dog claws on wood.
Suddenly, Buddy’s golden head appeared at the office door, followed by two breathless grandchildren already freshly changed into the clothes they had chosen for the day.
“Good morning, Gran!” Sophia barreled into the office and gave her a hug. “You were up early. I heard you leaving.”
“I’m sorry that I woke you, honey,” Linda said.
“Nah, I fell right back to sleep,” Sophia assured her.
“Hi, Gran,” Jake said, standing on her other side and kissing her cheek. “Whatcha doing?”
“I just came to see what I could do to help Uncle George run the hotel while he’s in the hospital,” Linda told him. “What are you two going to do today?”
“We’re going to start with a pancake breakfast, Rosa and Cook promised us,” Jake told her.
“I have to do some work here,” Linda explained. “And then I have to go back to the hospital to see Uncle George.”
“Can we go see him?” Sophia asked.
“I thought I would take you two to see him at visiting time this afternoon,” Linda replied. “He’ll have recovered a bit from surgery by then.”
“Sure,” Jake and Sophia agreed in unison.
“Is Toby coming over today?” Jake asked about Maggie’s grandson, who lived with her.
“Maggie said she’d bring Toby around later this morning.” Linda smiled warmly at her grandson.
“Good,” Jake said.
“I wish Uncle Michael were here already,” Sophia added with a small wistful sigh. “Then Lily would be here, and I wouldn’t have to hang out with Jake and Toby.”