“Of course,” Daisy agreed. “I’ll let the front desk staff know to let you in to collect his belongings.”
“Thanks,” Alice said. Now came the hard part. “Can you waive the fees for the past few days? He didn’t use the room, and money has been tight for him.”
“Bless his heart,” Daisy said, and she sounded genuinely sympathetic. “I wish I could do it for him, but rules are rules. The room was in his name, his belongings were in there, and we’ve already billed his credit card.”
“Then reverse the charges, please.”
“Honey, you know we can’t do that. If you’d cleared out his room the day of the accident we would have quit billing him and rented the room to someone else.”
Jack didn’t have anyone to fight for him but her, and Alice intended to win this battle. She channeled the steely tone her father used, the one that always sent a shiver down her back. “Daisy, unless you show me records indicating the inn was at full capacity for the past five days, I want you to reverse the charges on Jack’s card. Is that understood?”
Daisy huffed. “There’s no need to get nasty. I’ll speak to my husband. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Thanks, Daisy,” she said, aiming for a conciliatory tone. But as the words left her mouth, a flicker of doubt crept in. When it really mattered, would the Tuckers stand by her—or would they double-cross her?
A hotel bellhop walked Alice up to Jack’s room at the Tucker Inn. Like all rooms at the hotel, it was tastefully decorated with a Colonial Williamsburg vibe, complete with a four-poster bed, dark wainscotting, and reproduction brass sconces affixed to the walls.
Her heart squeezed at the sight of Jack’s golf clubs propped in the corner. Would he ever play again? The doctors assured her he ought to make a full recovery, but at the moment he looked so frail and broken it was hard to believe.
She dragged Jack’s suitcase from beneath the bed when a discreet knock sounded. The bellhop had promised to bring a luggage trolley, and she opened the door without a second thought.
Instead of a hotel clerk, Sebastian Bell held the luggage trolley. “Hello, gorgeous. Daisy said you’d be coming by to empty out Jack’s room.” He flashed her a wink. “I’m here to help.”
Alice snuck a peek down both sides of the hall to search for paparazzi. Once assured the coast was clear, she tugged him inside. Being alone in a hotel room with Sebastian probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world, but she didn’t want to press her luck by carrying on a conversation in the hallway.
“Why are you still here?” she asked. “I assumed you’d already gone back to England.”
“I needed to see you again. Alice, we need to talk.”
She opened the top drawer of the highboy to begin clearing out Jack’s things. “Seb, we don’t really need to talk. It’s over, okay? I’m glad you’ve made it through rehab and things are going well for you, but I’ve already moved on.”
Sebastian watched her through somber eyes. “He’ll never marry you, and I’ve been dreaming about it since the day we met.”
It hurt because both things were true. That didn’t mean Sebastian was the right match for her. She and Sebastian were hopeless romantics. Who else could fall head-over-heels in love with a perfect stranger in the space of a day? And yet, beneath all his charisma, Sebastian was impractical, irresponsible, and charmingly selfish. She had to learn it the hard way, but she would never regret knowing him.
Alice’s future was uncertain, but she needed to face it on her own. “Can you lift Jack’s clubs onto the cart? With luck we can get this done in one trip.”
How sad that all of Jack’s possessions could fit on a hotel cart. He admitted to having a storage locker somewhere, but for the most part, two suitcases of clothes, a laptop, and a set of golf clubs were his worldly possessions.
The closet held two business suits, two casual jackets, a rain coat, and a winter coat. She held the hanging garment bag as Sebastian helped fill it.
Her phone rang, and she reached for it. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Is this Alice Chadwick?”
“It is,” she said, her eyes locked with Sebastian, praying it wasn’t bad news about Jack.
“This is Sophie Latimer, Jack’s stepmother,” the other voice said. “The hospital said you’re overseeing Jack’s care. Can I ask how he’s doing?”
She paused, then started to pace. Jack had been dodging Sophie’s calls ever since Alice met him. Who was she to reveal his personal information to a complete stranger? And yet, it would be cruel to completely withhold information, since Jack’s father was still alive and no doubt concerned.
“Can I speak to Jack’s father?”
There was a long pause. “Frank is right beside me listening in. Say something, hon.”
“I’m here,” a raspy voice on the other end of the connection choked out.
