Jack gestured toward a younger man who appeared from a side hallway. “This is Marcus, he will take your bags up and show you to your room, which is a sea-facing room on the second floor.”
Marcus stepped forward with a polite nod, lifting Nolan’s duffel without waiting for permission. Nolan kept the camera bag on his shoulder and followed him toward the stairs.
They were halfway up when the front door opened once again.
Nolan glanced back out of habit, the same way he always noticed movement when he was scouting locations.
An older man entered, tall and distinguished, his posture straight despite what had to be at least sixty years behind him. He wore a tailored coat, the kind that cost more than Nolan’s camera equipment. His hair had gone silver, but his face still held sharp lines, and when he smiled, the expression had the practiced warmth of someone used to making good impressions.
“Preston!” A woman, around the same age as the man she called Preston, appeared from near the office, her face lighting as she moved toward him. “It’s so good to see you.”
The man, Preston, returned the smile and took her hand warmly. “Julie. I’m sorry I missed the Christmas Ball. I heard it was wonderful.”
“It was,” Julie said, affection clear in her voice. “We had a full house. But we’re glad you’re here now.”
Nolan’s feet slowed on the stairs. The man had presence, the kind that made people notice him in a room. Nothing about him seemed out of place. Just someone who knew how to carry himself.
“Sir?” The porter paused a few steps ahead, waiting.
Nolan pulled his gaze away and kept climbing. “Sorry. Just taking it all in.”
The second-floor hallway stretched in both directions, doors evenly spaced, each one marked with a brass number. The porter led him to room seven, unlocked it with a key from his pocket, pushed the door open, and stepped aside.
“The bathroom is through there,” Marcus said, nodding toward a door on the left. “The balcony overlooks the water. We are currently serving lunch. The evening meal begins at six, and tomorrow breakfast starts at seven in the main dining room. But there is always fresh coffee and tea in the dining room.” He moved further into the room. “There are also coffee and tea-making facilities in your room.”
Nolan handed him a folded twenty. “Thanks.”
Marcus pocketed it with a quick smile and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Nolan stood in the center of the room for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. It was a warm, clean space. The bed looked comfortable with a quilt that looked handmade. There was a chair by the window and a small desk tucked against the wall. He crossed to the balcony door and opened it, stepping out into the cool air.
The ocean stretched wide and restless beyond the dunes, its sound constant and soothing. He let himself breathe it in, already thinking about his assignment, his mind ticking over with everything that he had to do. Nolan turned back inside and locked the door behind him.
Unpacking took ten minutes. His camera equipment went on the desk, arranged so he could grab what he needed quickly. His clothes went into the dresser. The laptop stayed in the bag for now and was locked in the closet safe that was big enough to hold it. He changed into dark jeans and a gray Henley, layered a jacket over it, and checked his phone.
There were no new messages.
Nolan pocketed it and headed back downstairs.
The lobby felt busier now. A couple stood near the front desk, signing something while Jack answered questions about local restaurants. Nolan moved past them toward the dining room, his stomach reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the morning.
As the couple left, another man stepped up to the desk and drew Nolan’s attention. He was in his mid-forties, of average height, and in unremarkable clothes. The kind of person who blends into a crowd without effort.
Something about him made Nolan’s skin prickle. He didn’t know why it was just a feeling he sometimes got about people. Nolan put it down to his photographer’s eye, taking in what most people normally couldn’t see.
But even without that, Nolan tagged the man as some agent or soldier because of the way his eyes moved across the lobby like he was cataloging details instead of just looking around.
Jack finished working on his computer and looked up at the man, smiling. “Hello, sorry to keep you waiting. Are you checking in ?”
“Yes.” The man’s voice was flat. “I made a reservation. The name’s Calvin Strand.”
Nolan kept walking, angling toward the dining room entrance, but part of his attention stayed on the desk. Jack pulled up the reservation, made small talk about the weather, and the New Year celebrations coming up. Calvin Strand took the room keys without much reaction and followed Marcus, the porter, toward the stairs.
Nolan shook off the weird feeling and stepped toward the dining room.
He was about to step inside when voices from the lobby rose louder than before. Nolan turned back toward the front desk and saw four people coming through the front door. An older man led the way, holding it open for the three women behind him. The first woman looked to be in her late fifties, composed and steady, the kind of bearing professionals carried without thinking about it. The second woman was younger, about Nolan’s age, mid to late thirties, with dark hair pulled back in a simple style. Her face was beautiful in a way that felt fragile, like she’d been stretched too thin for too long. A teenage girl followed last, bright-eyed and curious, her energy filling the space around her.
Julie appeared again, moving toward them with the same warmth she’d shown Preston earlier. “William! Welcome.”
