“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 fakehospitality 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.”
