Chapter 3
Lizzie
The Carlson Seaside Resort was even more beautiful than the photos on the website. Located on the north side of the island, right on the shores of the Atlantic ocean, it had taken her breath away the second the bus had come around the corner.
In fact, a lot had taken her breath away over the last few hours. The bus ride from Miami had taken almost four hours, crossing bridge after bridge after bridge. They’d passed islands, abandoned railroad tracks and quaint little towns. A stark difference to the hustle and bustle of Miami.
Jasper had met her at the airport in Miami yesterday and driven her to his place, where she’d spent the afternoon and evening. It had been nice to hang out with him again properly, just two of them without her mom and brothers.
This morning he’d driven her to the bus stop where she’d boarded, along with a bunch of other spring breakers who weren’t flying directly into Key West. She’d wanted to see the island from up top, sure, but now she was glad she’d taken the bus. The view alone had been worth it.
Key West itself was like nowhere she’d ever been. The hotel driver who’d picked her up from the tiny airport after she’d called to let them know she was already there had given her a quick tour through town.
Pastel houses with tin roofs. Chickens wandering the streets like they owned the place. Tourists on bikes weaving through traffic. Everything felt tropical and slightly chaotic, like the island had its own rules and didn’t care what anyone else thought.
The hotel itself was at the northern end of the island, a little away from the hectic downtown. She’d already learned that a shuttle was on call 24/7 for customers. A shuttle she’d apparently drive eventually, if the driver was correct.
That had sent her stomach into knots. Still she was determined to stay positive. The lobby was large, the walls made of glass so you could see the pool deck up ahead.
“She’ll be right here. She thought you weren’t coming till this evening,” the girl at the front desk, young, with neatly braided hair, a bright smile, and a name tag that read Chrisla, said.
“Oh, I don’t know why she would think that. I think there’s just one bus down.”
Chrisla shrugged. “A mix up, I’m sure. How was your trip down?”
“Long. The bus ride was almost four hours. So many bridges.”
“The Overseas Highway is like nothing else you’ll ever experience. First time?”
“Yup. It was incredible. Terrifying, but incredible.”
Chrisla laughed. “The Seven Mile Bridge gets everyone the first time. You get used to it.”
Lizzie set her backpack down, feeling some of her nervousness ease. Chrisla seemed genuinely nice, not the fake hospitality smiles some people wore like a uniform. “The hotel is gorgeous. I can’t believe I get to work here.”
“It’s pretty great. Wait until you see the rooftop terrace at sunset. Absolutely stunning.” Chrisla pulled up something on her computer.
Lizzie looked around the lobby again. Guests lounged in wicker chairs with tropical print cushions. This was going to be incredible. Six weeks in paradise, learning about hospitality management, getting real work experience. She could already imagine telling Maya about it when she got back.
But then, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Emma, look at this place!”
Lizzie’s entire body went cold. She knew that voice. Like nails on a chalk board.
No. Please, no.
As she turned, she found that the universe had a sick sense of humor because standing right there in a bright yellow outfit and a baby blue suitcase was none other than…Cynthia Shaw.
She stood in the middle of the lobby, designer sunglasses perched on her head, looking like she’d stepped out of a resort catalog. Emma Trusseau was next to her, equally polished in a sundress that screamed money.
Lizzie shrank back toward the desk, hoping Cynthia wouldn’t notice her.
“This is gorgeous,” Emma was saying. She spun in a circle, taking in the lobby. “Way better than that place in Miami last year.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t regret coming.” Cynthia pulled out her phone. “Let me get some pics for Insta.”
Maybe they’d just check in and leave. Go to their room. Or the pool. Anywhere that wasn’t here.
Cynthia lowered her phone. Her gaze swept the lobby and landed directly on Lizzie.
Cynthia’s eyes locked onto Lizzie and her mouth curled. “Oh my god. Lizzie Wakefield?”
Lizzie straightened. “Hey, Cynthia.”
“What are you doing here?” Cynthia walked over, Emma trailing behind. “Don’t tell me you’re a guest. Did you finally save up enough from your bakery job?”
“I’m working here.”
Cynthia’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re working? During spring break?”
“It’s an internship. I’ll be here six weeks.”
“Six weeks? That’s awesome,” Emma said. Cynthia shot her a glare that made her pale. It had to suck being friends with someone like Cynthia.
“Right, but most people actually take a break during break. You know, the whole point of it?” Cynthia glanced at Emma. “Can you imagine? Coming all the way to Key West just to work. Is this why you were nagging the profs about remote learning?”
Lizzie opened her mouth to respond, but Chrisla’s voice cut through the tension. “Lizzie? You need to sign this.”
Chrisla was waving from the desk, her expression sympathetic like she’d heard the entire exchange.
“That’s me.” Lizzie grabbed her backpack and moved toward the desk, putting distance between herself and Cynthia.
Behind her, she heard Cynthia laugh. “This is going to be the best spring break ever.”
Chrisla’s voice dropped low. “Friend of yours?”
“Not remotely. Freshman year we were grouped up for a project. She did none of the work and tried to claim it all as hers. Our professor figured it out and she failed her. Cynthia ended up on academic probation. And of course, she blamed me. Now, I’m a snitch in her eyes.”
“You should have snitched, she seems the sort to deserve it. Don’t worry about her. You probably won’t see much of her. What’s her name?”
“Cynthia Shaw,” she said and Chrisla typed.
“She’s here for two weeks. At least you don’t have to put up with her the whole time.” She frowned. “Spring breakers usually just stay one week at most. All the programming is arranged that way.”
Lizzie shrugged. “Cynthia always does things her way. She hardly comes to class anyway.”
Chrisla glanced past Lizzie’s shoulder. “Here comes your boss. That’s why I called you. I saw her step out of the elevator.”
Lizzie turned.
The woman walking toward them looked like she’d been designed by a marketing team.
Beige suit, floral blouse, blonde hair in a sleek ponytail.
She moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly who she was and what she was doing.
Beautiful in that polished, untouchable way that made Lizzie immediately aware of her own wrinkled band t-shirt and messy hair.
This had to be Sarah Barnes. The professional widow she’d read about since taking the position. The woman who’d married a real estate mogul thirty years her senior and inherited his empire. Some called her a gold digger. Some the genius behind Billy Barnes’ empire.
Lizzie saw none of that. What she did see was a woman who could have climbed right out of a magazine cover. Tall, tanned, with red lips and hips that swayed as she walked Sarah was nothing if not beautiful. Lizzie had seen pictures on the website, but in person, the woman was gorgeous.
And stern.
“Miss Wakefield.” Sarah’s voice was professional, pleasant, completely devoid of warmth. “Welcome to the Carlson Seaside. I’m Sarah Barnes, general manager.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity. I’m really excited to be here.”
Sarah’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure you are. Let’s set some expectations. I’m not here to babysit. You’ll have assignments, you’ll complete them, and you’ll stay out of the way during actual operations. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good. Chrisla will get you your employee badge and go over the schedule.” Sarah pulled out her phone, already moving on. “You’ll start tomorrow at seven AM.”
“Great. And I just need to check in? Get my room key?”
Sarah looked up. “Room key?”
“The internship paperwork said accommodations were included.”
“There’s employee housing at another location.” Sarah’s tone suggested this should have been obvious. “We don’t house staff on property.”
“Oh. I thought—”
“You thought you’d be staying here? In one of our guest rooms?
I thought the paperwork was quite clear about that.
” Sarah’s expression was somewhere between amused and incredulous.
“This is a resort, not a dormitory. Employee housing on Stock Island. Perfectly adequate. Chrisla can give you the details.”
“Right. Of course.” Lizzie wanted to disappear into the floor. “Sorry for the confusion.”
“No confusion. Just clarification.” Sarah glanced at her phone again. “Anything else?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Excellent. See you tomorrow morning.” Sarah walked away, heels clicking on the tile floor.
Chrisla winced. “That was rough.”
“Was it that bad?”
“She’s usually warmer with new employees. Not by much, but a little.” Chrisla pulled up something on her computer. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been under a lot of stress.”
“Why?”
“You probably heard her husband died about a year ago. She’s fighting his son in court over the estate. The board is giving her hell. And apparently, she’d already been interviewing people for your position when they told her she was getting you instead.”
Lizzie gripped the edge of the desk. “She had someone else picked out?”
“From what I heard, yeah.” Chrisla gave her an apologetic look.
“Great. So I’m the unwanted intern forced on her.”
“Pretty much.”
Lizzie dropped into one of the lobby chairs. “This day just keeps getting better.”