CHAPTER NINE
Scarlett
I just want to curseeverything. How could anyone possibly be happy here?
Thankfully, I finally see the lights outside the plantation. There are definitely no more shortcuts for me, so I’ll happily walk down the long-as-hell dirt road.
As I reach the front porch, I find several guests sitting in the rocking chairs, sipping on martinis or whatever they call cosmos down here. After having a better look at the local people, I see that their apparel isn’t necessarily outdated but just different. Their modern style is bolder and more colorful with assorted patterns I don’t normally see. Plus, they’re all very conservatively covered, too. At night in Boston, it’s more common to see the less conservative styles.
“Good evening,” I greet the visitors. I hop into my hospitality role, knowing I’m starting work in just a couple of days, granted I don’t die or something during surgery tomorrow. Gah. “How are you doing tonight?”
“Oh, we’re just dandy,” one of the girls answers. She’s probably about my age, but her hair is tied tightly into a low knotted ballet bun, her dress stops below her knees, and she’s wearing pearls on her ears, neck, and wrists. That’s a lot of pearls. “Do you work here?”
I was still walking toward the front door, moving the conversation from start to end quickly, but with an attempt to avoid a job title of the “rude front desk woman,” I stop to answer. “Yes, I’ll be starting work here in a couple of days,” I tell her with a smile that probably looks as fake as it feels.
“Oh my goodness, what happened to your poor arm?” she asks.
I look down at my wrapped arm confined within a sling. “Oh, I had a little accident with a moss-covered, dirt hole earlier today. It wasn’t the greatest way to start my first day here,” I say with a forced laugh. I don’t want to sound too negative since I’m going to go on a limb and assume anything but a pleasant smile with an upbeat response is likely not acceptable here. In any case, this day can bite me.
“You poor thing. You spent your first day cooped up in the hospital?”
“Yep, that I did.” I shrug, hoping to shrug her away, but it’s like every word I offer is an invitation for her to pry a little more.
“Well, hopefully, you at least got to lay your eyes on the fine nurse down there—Austin Trace.”
Heat rushes through my cheeks, and I’m thankful the porch is only lit by hanging lanterns so I can keep my inner thoughts on Austin Trace’s looks to myself. “Oh, yes, I met him.” That’s all I’m going to say about Austin.
The woman stands up and straightens the pleats of her coral pink sundress and makes her way over to me. “I’m Laurie-Cate. I’m not actually a guest here, but my parents are in town and they enjoy staying in a villa rather than my silly little house down in the meadow.” She rolls her eyes and shoos the notion away. I want to tell her,maybe it’s because you talk too much or want to know too much, and even though you’re five feet away from me, I kind of feel like you’re standing on my toes right now.
“Oh,” I snicker. “Sounds like my family situation. My dad is just a wicked stellar man.” I roll my eyes the same way she did so she understands my sarcasm.
“Wicked?” She covers her mouth. “Y’all are from New England, aren’t you?”
Must stop speaking like I’m from Boston. Noted. “Oh, yes, I moved down here from Boston.”
“I’m so jealous!” she says, placing her hand on my shoulder. That’s enough touching for you, missy. I take a step back to put another foot of breathing space between us. I don’t think she even notices that I move, though. She has this star-gazed look in her eyes as if she’s dreaming out loud. “I’ve wanted to visit Boston my entire life.” It’s a three-hour flight, not exactly across the ocean or anything.
“Eh, there’s dirty water, mouthy people, and a lot of rushing around,” I tell her. “You’re not missing much.”
“Oh, hush. I’ve heard the city lights up like fireworks at night, and it’s beautiful.” I sigh because what else is there to say. It’s home to me and there’s not much more to it. “Are you going to be living in this town now?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m staying in one of the … smaller villas out back.” I try not to change the look on my face. I can’t insult the hotel or I’ll be fired before I start.
“One of the smaller villas?” she asks. “I didn’t know they came in different sizes.”
I smile—the fake one again. “I think they’re just a bit different for the out-of-town staff.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m glad to know I’ll be seeing you around town. It’ll be nice to have a fresh face around here.”
“Laurie-Cate, who is your friend?” One of the older women calls over.
“Oh, I’m so rude,” she says to me. “I didn’t even ask your name.”
“It’s Scarlett,” I tell her, reaching my hand out.
“Scarlett, huh? Well, by the sound of your name, you were born to be a Southerner.” Ha ha ha, I get it. AnotherGone With the Windreference. I have gone my entire life hearing one of those at least a half dozen times a week.
“Oh, yes, I know. Scarlett O’Hara. She had the name first,” I poke fun at myself while still holding my hand out to shake hers.
