Hidden Treasures at Hearts Hotel (Sweet Blossom Bay #5)

1. Isabel

ISABEL

Isabel sat at the heavy teak dining table inside the Bay View Beach House, her eyes narrowed to thin slits as she watched the two red-faced adults sitting across from her.

Darius and Linda were currently staring down at the polished wood grain, their cheeks flushed a deep, telltale crimson as they actively avoided her gaze.

Nearby, Penny, who had finally mastered the over-complicated espresso machine Darius bought, moved quietly around the open-plan kitchen, pouring freshly brewed coffee into mugs and carrying them over to the table.

Isabel barely registered the rich aroma of the dark roast. Her mind was locked on the chaotic puzzle of the past forty minutes, replaying the sequence of events that had disrupted their afternoon walk in town.

It had all happened so fast. One moment she had been walking hand-in-hand with Owen toward the ice cream shop, and the next, a localized covert operation had exploded right in front of them.

The second the tension spiked, Maggie had slunk backward into the narrow alleyway, throwing out a hurried, "Oh, shoot, I stepped on something. I’m just going to scrape it off," as a flimsy excuse to duck out of sight to push Linda and Darius out of sight.

At the exact same time, Michael had marched across the pavement to intercept Baxter and Dr. Wineberg, his voice tight and demanding as he asked the developer why he was still lingering in Sweet Blossom Bay.

Baxter had offered a cool, practiced shrug. "Mr. Heart, we still have business to discuss regarding the resort development."

“There will be no talks with the Wayne Group or…” Michael's head snapped toward Dr. Wineberg. “Anyone else. My hotel is not up for sale, and we don’t want the likes of you in our town.”

"That's not very hospitable of you, Mr. Heart," Dr. Debbi Wineberg had chimed in, stepping up beside Baxter. Her voice carried that sharp, patronizing edge that made Isabel's guard go up instantly. "Shouldn't you be warmer to guests of your town, considering your family owns a hotel here?"

Michael had simply raised a single, mocking eyebrow. "Are you guests? I thought you were staying over on Sanibel."

It was right at that moment that Isabel and Owen had joined Michael on the sidewalk.

Isabel had felt Owen’s entire frame go completely rigid the second Debbi’s eyes landed on him.

There was no mistaking the look that had flashed across the archaeologist's face.

It was a look of possession. Owen, in turn, had met her gaze with a flash of deep disgust.

"Dr. Reed," Baxter had greeted him, his tone turning clinical. "We've been trying to get in touch with you."

"Yes, Dr. Reed, you are rather hard to find," Debbi had said. Her voice had even changed by a few pitches, dropping into a softer, targeted register that made Isabel’s stomach clench painfully.

A sudden, unexpected surge of jealousy gripped Isabel for a fleeting moment as she watched the woman try to tether herself to Owen. "We have lots to talk about, Owen."

The intimate transition to Owen's first name, delivered like a soft, familiar caress, had thoroughly irked Isabel, leaving her fingers tightening against the strap of her bag.

But the confrontation had ended as quickly as it started.

Owen had told Debbi, in no uncertain terms, that he had absolutely nothing to say to her or Baxter before grabbing Isabel's hand and hauling her away from the plaza.

They didn't even get their ice cream. They hadn't gotten more than a block down the road when Michael had run after them, out of breath, telling them to abandon their walk and head straight to the Wayne family's beach house.

It's time to let them in on what's going on, Michael had warned.

A quiet voice broke through the silence of the dining room, pulling Isabel back to the present.

"Who are we waiting for?" Owen asked, leaning back in his chair.

Isabel glanced around the crowded space. Michael, Maggie, Penny, and Martin were all seated at the table, their expressions tense. They had been summoned the moment they returned to the beach house, the urgent nature of the meeting hanging heavily in the still air.

Before anyone could answer Owen's question, the front door clicked open.

Anna stepped into the room. Her sharp, analytical eyes scanned the gathering before landing squarely on Owen.

She offered a general greeting to the room, but her focus immediately returned to him, her expression carrying an intense, weighted gravity.

Isabel noticed Owen shift in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he picked up on Anna’s rigid posture.

"I'm one of the people you are waiting for," Anna admitted, her voice low as her gaze locked with Owen's across the room. "The two other people are right behind me." She paused, a small, weary smile touching her lips. "Owen, maybe we should talk before they come inside."

Isabel felt Owen stiffen once again, his brow furrowing in deep suspicion.

"If you tell me Dr. Debbi Wineberg is about to walk through that door," Owen stated defensively, "I don't care what you have to say or what this meeting is supposed to be about, I'm leaving."

"No, Owen, it's not Dr. Wineberg, it's..." Martin began from the corner of the room, but his explanation was cut off.

"Hello, Owen," a soft, familiar female voice called out from the entryway.

The blood drained from Owen's face, his features locking into a mask of shock as a beautiful woman about his own age stepped fully into the living room. She carried herself with a quiet grace, her eyes fixed entirely on Owen as she walked slowly toward the dining table.

But before Isabel could process the newcomer's presence, another figure stepped through the threshold directly behind her. A sharp surge of anger flared through Isabel's chest, and her hands balled into fists.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Isabel hissed, her eyes locking onto Baxter as her cousin strode into the beach house as if he belonged there, and not like the treacherous snake she knew him to be.

"I'm with her," Baxter said simply, stopping a pace behind the newcomer and resting a hand near his pockets.

"And she is?" Isabel asked, the sharp, defensive edge in her voice surprising even herself.

"Gill," a chorus of voices answered in unison. Gill, Baxter, Anna, Darius, and Linda all spoke the name at the exact same time, the word echoing off the high ceiling of the beach house.

Isabel's brow furrowed, her gaze shifting between the players in the room as the pieces of the puzzle refused to align.

"She's..." Owen said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

He didn't look at Isabel, his eyes still wide and frozen as he stared at the woman named Gill as if he were looking directly at a ghost. A heavy, sinking feeling settled deep in Isabel's gut as Owen finished his sentence. "...a friend from my past."

Isabel’s frown deepened, and the anxious feeling in her stomach knotted a little tighter.

"What are you..." Owen’s confusion furrowed his brows, and only then did he seem to notice the man standing almost possessively beside Gill.

Or how, even to Isabel, Gill, who was also looking at Owen with a sense of nostalgia and shared history, was positioned beside Baxter in a way that suggested she was seeking his protection. “Why are you here?”

What the heck is going on here? Isabel was confused, and a sudden sense of irritation gripped her.

"Okay, what is going on?" Isabel hissed, startling herself once again with the sharp tone of her voice. "Why do I get the feeling everyone knows something but Owen and me?"

"Because we don't know," Owen stated, finally capturing and composing himself. He instantly moved closer to Isabel, his shoulder brushing hers as if seeking a silent, solid anchor. "What is going on?"

"Why is Baxter the traitor here?" Isabel glared at her brother.

"All will be explained, Isabel," Penny said quietly as she brought out three more steaming mugs from the kitchen. "Shall we get to it?" She pulled a chair up beside Isabel, offering a grounding, supportive look.

"Please, sit," Darius said, standing and indicating for the three newcomers to sit before taking his seat once again.

The three newcomers sat down on the same side of the long dining table as Darius and Linda.

Looking at the arrangement, Isabel felt as though she were sitting in an interrogation room, preparing to grill a line of suspects.

In a way, they were doing exactly that, she thought, her eyes narrowing as she studied the group across from her.

Her gaze fell on how close Darius sat beside Linda.

If she hadn't just witnessed them kissing in the alleyway near the ice cream shop, she would still fully believe they were on the outs because of his lies about his identity.

They were executing their cold-shoulder act beautifully for the public, but the physical proximity here spoke volumes.

Then she glanced over at Anna, who had positioned herself between Darius and Baxter.

To Baxter's right sat Gill. Isabel's brow furrowed.

They were another cozy-looking couple, sitting far too close together for it to be a simple professional acquaintance.

There was a protective, quiet understanding in the way Baxter's shoulder subtly shielded Gill's side.

Isn’t Baxter with Dr. Wineberg? Isabel looked at her cousin in contemplation.

Isabel glanced down her own side of the table. Michael, Maggie, Martin, Penny, herself, and then Owen.

It looked like a classic standoff. But as Isabel swept her eyes over the faces of Michael, Maggie, Martin, and Penny, she saw the silent, guarded truth. They knew a lot more about what was happening on this island than she and Owen did.

"I can't stand this," Isabel said, her patience snapping. "Talk."

Her sharp command left everyone at the table stunned. Normally warm and accommodating, Isabel's tone cracked like a leather whip through the quiet room, causing several people to jolt in their seats.