“You should have snitched, she seems the sort to deserve it. Don’t worry about her. You probably won’t see much of her. What’s her name?”
“Cynthia Shaw,” she said and Chrisla typed.
“She’s here for two weeks. At least you don’t have to put up with her the whole time.” She frowned. “Spring breakers usually just stay one week at most. All the programming is arranged that way.”
Lizzie shrugged. “Cynthia always does things her way. She hardly comes to class anyway.”
Chrisla glanced past Lizzie’s shoulder. “Here comes your boss. That’s why I called you. I saw her step out of the elevator.”
Lizzie turned.
The woman walking toward them looked like she’d been designed by a marketing team. Beige suit, floral blouse, blondehair in a sleek ponytail. She moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly who she was and what she was doing. Beautiful in that polished, untouchable way that made Lizzie immediately aware of her own wrinkled band t-shirt and messy hair.
This had to be Sarah Barnes. The professional widow she’d read about since taking the position. The woman who’d married a real estate mogul thirty years her senior and inherited his empire. Some called her a gold digger. Some the genius behind Billy Barnes’ empire.
Lizzie saw none of that. What she did see was a woman who could have climbed right out of a magazine cover. Tall, tanned, with red lips and hips that swayed as she walked Sarah was nothing if not beautiful. Lizzie had seen pictures on the website, but in person, the woman was gorgeous.
And stern.
“Miss Wakefield.” Sarah’s voice was professional, pleasant, completely devoid of warmth. “Welcome to the Carlson Seaside. I’m Sarah Barnes, general manager.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity. I’m really excited to be here.”
Sarah’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure you are. Let’s set some expectations. I’m not here to babysit. You’ll have assignments, you’ll complete them, and you’ll stay out of the way during actual operations. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good. Chrisla will get you your employee badge and go over the schedule.” Sarah pulled out her phone, already moving on. “You’ll start tomorrow at seven AM.”
“Great. And I just need to check in? Get my room key?”
Sarah looked up. “Room key?”
“The internship paperwork said accommodations were included.”
“There’s employee housing at another location.” Sarah’s tone suggested this should have been obvious. “We don’t house staff on property.”
“Oh. I thought—”
“You thought you’d be staying here? In one of our guest rooms? I thought the paperwork was quite clear about that.” Sarah’s expression was somewhere between amused and incredulous. “This is a resort, not a dormitory. Employee housing on Stock Island. Perfectly adequate. Chrisla can give you the details.”
“Right. Of course.” Lizzie wanted to disappear into the floor. “Sorry for the confusion.”
“No confusion. Just clarification.” Sarah glanced at her phone again. “Anything else?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Excellent. See you tomorrow morning.” Sarah walked away, heels clicking on the tile floor.
Chrisla winced. “That was rough.”
“Was it that bad?”
“She’s usually warmer with new employees. Not by much, but a little.” Chrisla pulled up something on her computer. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been under a lot of stress.”
“Why?”
“You probably heard her husband died about a year ago. She’s fighting his son in court over the estate. The board is giving her hell. And apparently, she’d already been interviewing people for your position when they told her she was getting you instead.”
