Gizelle blinked, and then smiled and nodded her agreement. “Just like you are very small,” she agreed. “Do you get lost a lot?”
“I...uh, no?”
Gizelle shrugged and snagged another pair of cookies, turning to give one to the big, quiet man who had followed her. He looked warily at Felicity, as if he was sizing her up as a threat.
Felicity tried to look small and harmless, which wasn’t that hard for her, and went to wash her hands before getting down to work for the soft reopening of the resort. The grand reopening of the resort was planned for the new year, but special guests were already coming in for Christmas stays.
Working at Shifting Sands Resort was already everything that Felicity had hoped for, and even more.
She’d assumed that the room and board aspect of her employment would be the drawback, if there was one. She would probably get a windowless closet in a crowded boarding house—maybe a windowless closet with a roommate!—and the food would be gruel in a metal tray. Maybe gruel and a heel of day-old bread, served twice a day. She completely expected to feel like she was watching a play from backstage, with all the glitter and glamor curtained off from the scurrying stage crew. Surely, all of the luxury of Shifting Sands would be for paying guests, and not at all for the staff.
(To be fair, Felicity had relished the idea of playing the poor relation, with holes in her stockings like Sara in ‘A Little Princess.’)
Instead, they had an explicit invitation to enjoy all of the Shifting Sands amenities when they were not busy, including the pools and beach. Felicity’s room was small, but sunny and private, and there was a common room for the staff with a giant private porch and comfortable wicker furniture. Meals were directly from the same buffet as the guests, though members of the staff were asked not to eat in the restaurant during the mealtimes.Gourmet leftovers filled the staff refrigerator, and day-old bread and sweets were always available.
The only flaw in Felicity’s complete happiness was having to keep her teeny, tiny secret.
Felicity had already decided she would come clean to Chef, who was the kindest boss she had ever had or even heard of, but she didn’t want to ruin Christmas if they had to fire her because of it.
She didn’t wantanythingto ruin Christmas.
CHAPTER4
There was Christmas music at the bar, playing on a sound system cleverly hidden in the tropical decor. “Is the bartender around?” Robert asked a man sitting at the bar, staring at a glass with a few round ice cubes and some amber liquid. When he was soundly ignored, Robert decided that a drink wasn’t what he wanted anyway. “Thanks, anyway.”
The man didn’t look around at all.
Old Robert would have pounded on the bar and demanded service, just for a laugh. Old Robert would be making the rounds of the few scattered guests, striking up conversations and trying to steer them to talking about shift forms so he could brag about being rare and special. “Oh, there are a million bears and lions,” he might joke. “I even know a few dragons. But I’m one of only a handful of knownwhitered deer in the world—and none of the others are shifters.”
He’d take advantage of the clothing optional rules to show himself off at any opportunity, prancing and tossing his big rack.
He didn’t let himself follow that train of memory. He’d paid in spades for that pride.
He didn’t brag now, and he didn’t try to make friends. He was new Robert. Maybe he should shorten his name to reflect what was left of him? Rob, perhaps. Or evenBob.
That would have been funny once, and Old Robert would have found a joke to make aboutBob New Hart.
I don’t get it, his hart complained.
Bob Newhart was a comedian on television, Robert tried to explain.
But nothing was a funny now, Robert thought, feeling dull and distant. You had tofeelhumor to laugh, and he didn’tfeelmuch of anything. Coming here had been a terrible mistake. He paused at the bottom of the steps up to the restaurant, grounding himself with effort. A fist, to hold in the anger. Release it slowly to acknowledge the pain. Tap thumb and forefinger to keep the heart beating.
The hart.
His stag snuffled the air and Robert followed suit. It smelled like spices and pine over the tropical scents. Was that caramel?
His stomach rumbled.
Hungry, his stag agreed, but Robert wasn’t sure he meant food. Sometimes the hart confused his senses and talked about hearing things with his feet, or seeing colors in music. Was it because he’d spent so long in that form?
Let’s go see if the restaurant is open, he suggested, and his stag pranced eagerly.
The restaurant was quiet enough that he could hear sparkling laughter from the kitchen as he was seated.
“Hello, handsome!” the waiter told him with a grin. He winked when Robert looked at him in surprise. “Felicitation will be your server this evening, but I can start you out with a drink if your mouth is lonely.”
It took Robert a moment to parse Felicitation into a name. It didn’t help that the waiter was waggling his eyebrows as if he had a suggestion for lonely mouths.
