Chapter 5 Girl Talk
Girl Talk
Emma rubbed her temples to alleviate her growing headache. She slumped back and eyed her desk, covered in stacks of personnel files, color-coded staffing charts, and a cup of cold coffee.
The cold coffee was an easy fix.
She got up and traipsed to the coffee station, popping in a decaf pod.
She’d sent Morgan home an hour ago, but here she was, still packing boxes, rearranging files.
They were in the middle of moving the HR offices from the welcome center (aka the Marina office) to their permanent quarters in the admin wing of the resort building.
They no longer needed to be right at the dock.
She grabbed her fresh mug and returned to her desk, glancing at her watch before smiling. 7 pm—time for her call with Lena.
She propped her tablet against a precarious stack of folders and tapped Lena’s contact. She would either be finishing dinner or three sips into her first glass of wine.
The screen flickered once, and Lena’s face appeared, framed by the warm glow and spectacular artwork on the walls of the Residence.
She’d moved in with David a few months ago and had been insanely happy ever since.
Her blonde hair was pinned up in a loose twist, and she wore comfy looking shorts and a tee.
“Tell me you have fun news,” Lena jumped in without preamble. “Preferably involving cocktails and zero spreadsheets.”
Emma smiled despite the exhaustion pulling at her shoulders. “I have Word documents. Does that count?”
“Absolutely not.” Lena shifted position, tucking her legs beneath her on the ridiculously comfortable sofa in her living room. “Try again.”
“I finished the final interviews for the front desk staff?”
“Emma. Darling. Light of my corporate existence.” Lena reached for something off-camera—presumably the aforementioned wine. “You’re killing me.”
“You asked for good news.”
“I asked for fun news.” Lena took a sip, then pointed at Emma. “There’s a difference. One involves staffing matrices. The other requires stories I can laugh at.”
Emma leaned back in her chair, rolling the tension from her neck. Outside her window, the sky turned deep purple, with the first stars appearing.
“If you want entertainment, call Kate. Last month when she was here, she tried to convince a delivery boat captain that the island’s protective spirits would guide his boat safely to shore.”
“Did it work?”
“I don’t think he’s been back since.”
“Guess that’s a no.” Lena’s grin was sharp.
“I do have one story for you. An interview for a front desk clerk.”
Lena perked up. “Oh, tell me!”
Emma shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable. “First, he showed up in jean shorts older than me, and a T-shirt that looked like it survived at least one natural disaster. There were… stains I chose not to identify for my own peace of mind.”
Lena choked on her wine. “Good call.”
“He was barefoot when he walked in. Not sandals. Barefoot.”
Lena giggled like a teenager. “This is incredible. Please tell me you still did the interview.”
“I did—I was curious. So I began with standard questions. Previous experience, customer service scenarios, conflict resolution—basic things.”
“And?”
“He interrupted me halfway through to say my interview style is ‘aggressively invasive.’ He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t appreciate being interrogated like I’m applying for the FBI.
’” Emma’s tone stayed dry. “I clarified that asking about prior job experience is, in fact, a standard part of the interview process.”
Lena grinned. “How did he take that?”
“Not well.” Emma paused. “He said, ‘vibes matter more than résumés.’”
Lena lost it. Full, helpless laughter.
Emma allowed herself the smallest smile. “It gets better. I asked how he would handle a guest complaint.”
“And?”
“He said—and again, I’m quoting—‘I’d tell them to relax. People need to chill out more.’”
Lena wiped at her eyes. “Oh, my god. Please tell me you hired him.”
Emma couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “He then asked if the job came with ‘free drinks and maybe, like, boat access.’”
Lena pointed at the screen. “He’s an entrepreneur. A visionary.”
“He is unemployed,” Emma laughed.
“That too.”
Emma grinned. “I thanked him for his time and told him we’d be in touch. He left after telling me I might want to ‘loosen up a little’ if I wanted the resort to succeed.”
“I love him,” Lena declared. “He’s my favorite person you’ve ever interviewed.”
“He is not working at my front desk.”
“Tragic.”
Emma reached for her coffee. “He did offer to come back and ‘re-interview me’ if I reconsidered.”
Lena dissolved into laughter all over again. When she could speak, she glanced at something off-camera. “Kate should be joining us in about five minutes, which gives you enough time to tell me how things are actually going.”
Emma sipped her coffee, wishing it were something stronger. “Chaotic. Promising. Exhausting. Take your pick.”
“Very diplomatic. Now tell me the real version. Are you eating? Are you sleeping? You look tired.”
“That is the real version. And yes, Mom, I’m eating and sleeping. It’s just been a long day today.”
Emma pulled up the staffing spreadsheet on her laptop, scanning the highlighted sections. “We’re ahead of schedule on hiring, which is miracle-level progress. The kitchen staff arrives next week. I have three strong candidates for concierge, and maintenance is almost fully staffed.”
“Wow. You do know how to live dangerously.”
“You asked.”
“I asked for gossip, Emma. Drama. Interpersonal conflict.” Lena’s smile turned sly. “For example, how’s Zach settling in?”
Emma kept her face neutral. “He’s… thorough.”
Lena waited only two seconds before she pounced. “That pause contained at least three adjectives you chose not to say.”
“It didn’t.”
“It did. I heard them. They were loud.” Lena leaned closer to the screen, eyes bright with interest. “What happened?”
Emma aimed for casual and knew she missed. “Nothing happened. He’s doing his job. I’m doing mine.”
“And?”
Emma gave up. She never won against Lena. “Fine. He walked into my office this morning and tried to take over my hiring decisions.”
Lena’s laugh was immediate and delighted. “Of course he did. The man thinks security clearances are a personality trait.”
“He wanted to vet my entire candidate pool.” Emma bit out. “Insisted on running background checks beyond what we already require. Said something about ‘potential vulnerabilities.’”
“What did you do?”
“Told him my candidates weren’t his surveillance targets.”
“And?”
Emma’s lips twitched. “He didn’t like it.”
“I bet he didn’t.” Lena’s grin widened. “He makes the Secret Service look casual.”
“That’s… accurate.”
“I’ve also noticed he never smiles, refuses to make small talk, and treats every room like it might contain explosives.” Lena tilted her head. “Is he terrifying you?”
Emma thought about those cold, gray-blue eyes, the way he’d assessed her office like he was cataloging exits and sight lines. The absolute stillness in the way he stood, like violence on a leash. He should scare her, but somehow she knew he’d never hurt her.
“He’s… intense.”
Kate’s face appeared in a second window, her warm smile a contrast to the shadows behind her.
“What did I miss?” Kate asked, adjusting her screen.
“Emma met Zach,” Lena blurted out.
Kate’s voice changed to something knowing. “Ah.”
“Don’t start,” Emma warned.
Kate settled into her chair, both hands wrapped around a mug of what was probably tea. “We’re interested in how you’re finding the company’s security chief. Wait. You met him way back when I first arrived, didn't you? When you were promoted.”
“Yes, I did, but only for that brief meeting. He’s rigid,” Emma continued flatly. “Overbearing. Convinced he’s always right.”
Lena laughed. “Has he done that thing where he appears out of nowhere and acts like he’s been standing there for ten minutes?”
“Yes!”
“And did it make you want to throw something at him?”
“I always want to throw something at him. He’s impossible.”
Kate smirked at her. “You’re intrigued.”
“I am not.” Emma’s cheeks warmed.
Kate’s smile turned gentle. “Emma, you spent three minutes describing your interaction with him. You don’t do that about people who don’t interest you.”
Lena smirked. “Not to mention the man is drop dead gorgeous. The muscles on him…”
Kate laughed. “You’re drooling, Lena.”
“Am not. I am quite happy with my hot geek. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the body on Zach.”
Emma opened her mouth, closed it. They weren’t wrong, which was precisely the problem. No one with a pulse would miss that body, those muscles…
“Besides,” she said, grasping for solid ground. “He’s an owner, which means he’s effectively my boss.”
Lena’s laugh erupted so suddenly she nearly spilled her wine. “Oh, my god.”
“What?”
“Emma, sweetheart.” Lena set down her glass, shoulders shaking. “You do realize I’m literally living with my boss, right? And I distinctly remember you encouraging me.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Emma struggled for an answer that wouldn't sound ridiculous. “You and David, that’s…” She trailed off, seeing the trap Lena laid for her.
“Exactly,” Lena crowed. “So the ‘he’s my boss’ excuse doesn’t work.”
“I’m not making excuses because there’s nothing to make excuses for.” Emma hated the defensiveness in her voice. “I’m just stating facts.”
Kate had gone quiet, her gaze distant, listening to something the rest of them couldn’t hear.
“Kate? You okay?”
Kate’s focus returned slowly. “Actually… I’ve been having dreams again.”
The easy banter evaporated. Lena straightened, her playful expression replaced by concern.
“What kind of dreams?” Emma asked.
Kate’s hands tightened around her mug. “Storm imagery. Dark water moving wrongly. Rain going up. The air pressing down. Something…” She paused, searching for words. “Something shifting beneath the island.”
Emma felt a small chill trace down her spine. “Beneath?”
“Yeah. And wind.” Kate’s voice went softer. “Howling and building, circling, like a tornado but not. Voices, but the words are indecipherable. And there’s this feeling like the island is… waiting. Like it’s alive.”
She hesitated for a moment. “It feels like a warning.”
Lena stayed silent, eyes locked on Kate with unusual intensity.
“Warning about what?” Emma asked.
Kate’s eyes held hers through the screen. “I don’t know, but in the dreams, the wind keeps rising, and I know that something wicked is coming with it.”
The words settled over the call like a shadow. Emma wanted to dismiss it, to explain it away with logic and reason. Kate was sensitive, intuitive—dreams were simply her mind processing information differently.
“The hurricane?” Emma asked.
Kate thought for a moment, rolling that over in her mind. “No, that’s not it. Or not all of it.”
“How long have you been having them?” Lena's voice conveyed her worry.
“Since I was there last month.” Kate set down her mug. “They started occasionally. Now, they’re getting clearer and more frequent.”
They sat in silence, the easy comfort of earlier replaced by something heavier.
Lena finally broke the tension with characteristic directness. “So we’re saying the island might be haunted, cursed, or generally suspicious, and Emma’s caught the attention of the most dangerous man we’ll probably ever know. Cool. Normal Thursday.”
Despite everything, Emma felt a laugh bubble up. “When you put it that way…”
“I’m here for chaos,” Lena said. “It’s my brand.”
Kate smiled, but her eyes still shone with worry. “Just… be careful, Emma. Whatever’s coming, I don’t think it’s going to wait much longer.”
They talked for a few more minutes, steering toward safer topics—Lena’s latest battle with the Ivory Sands event coordinator, Kate’s progress on her current manuscript. But the earlier warmth didn’t quite return, unease hanging over them like storm clouds on a clear day.
After the call ended, Emma stared at the darkened screen, Kate’s warning on loop in her mind.
Outside, the evening breeze rustled through the palms, making them hiss and whisper. She shook the thought away and stood, gathering her files. Storms were weather. Dreams were just the mind processing stress. The wind was just the wind.
Nothing more.
But as she switched off her office light and headed for the door, Emma couldn’t quite shake the sense that Kate was right.
Something was coming.