So that’s a definite maybe.
I really hope Ellie and Elinor arenotthe same person. I don’t have the stomach to kick Ellie, the girl who could identify all the local trees, flowers and rocks, out of her childhood home.
I scan the lobby looking for someone who might be a grown version of Ellie. An ornate piano sits at the far corner of the room. Nearby an older man with white hair sits in a wingbackchair, his eyes fixed on the empty piano bench. A couple of construction workers in neon vests relax in the velvet arm chairs near the fireplace. At the front desk a plump smiling middle-aged woman watches me. When she catches me looking at her, she waves me over.
“Are you meeting someone?” asks the woman behind the desk whose name tag reads Jenn Juarez. “I saw you searching the room.”
“No, not exactly. Just taking in the ambience,” I answer. “I’m staying here tonight. I should probably check in.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. And let me just say, you look dashing. And you’re really not meeting someone?”
“Um no . . . I’m here on my own.”
“Really?” Jenn Juarez stretches out the word with meaning. “If you’re single, you should really meet one of the Greenwood girls. That’s Annie, now.” A young woman marches up to the piano bench with a stormy look. She sits down and immediately begins to play a fast and complicated-sounding piece of classical music. “I’ll introduce you later.” Ms. Juarez says with a knowing smile. “Mac over there drives down from Marina at least once a week to watch her play.” She nods to the man in the wingback chair. “So pretty, and she plays with such passion,”
The pianist definitely has a lot of feelings. Her whole body sways as she attacks the instrument. But what catches my attention is her hair. Ellie’s little sister had curly red hair just like the melodramatic pianist.
“What do you think?” The clerk looks at me expectantly.
“Um, she certainly plays with emotion,” I answer uncertainly.
“Hmm... perhaps Elinor’s more your type. I can see that. Most men don’t notice her as much as her sister. Which is a shame, since Elinor is just as lovely, if you ask me. She’s the onewho keeps this place running.” I’m not sure why I let this lady go on—perhaps because of my burgeoning curiosity about Elinor Greenwood. Still, I need to set her straight before she gets carried away with matchmaking.
“She sounds great, but . . . uh . . . I’m not exactly—”
“Yes, I see it now. You’re perfect for Elinor,” Jenn Juarez continues. “What’s your name?”
“Edward Frechette.”
“Love it! So distinguished. Why’s it familiar?”
“Maybe because you have a reservation for me?”
“Silly me. Yes, of course.” She checks her computer. The pinecones carved into the dark wood of the desk give me another rush of nostalgia. “By the way, I’m J.J.” The receptionist puts out her hand to shake.
“Nice to meet you, J.J.”
“Hmm there’s no Edward Frechette here,” J. J. looks at the computer screen with a confused expression.
“Sorry, the reservation might be under my mom’s name. Barbara Norland.”
“Wow! Handsomeandthe owner’s son,” says J.J. “You definitely should meet Elinor.”
Embarrassed, I pretend to be fascinated by the arrangement of fresh flowers on the desk. “Hmm... there’s a note on your reservation. It says—” she looks up with a scheming grin. “Well look at that! What a happy coincidence. The note says:See manager.” She leans forward as if telling me a secret. “Do you know who the manager is? It’s...” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Elinor Greenwood. Don’t you see? It’s fate.”
It kind of feels like it. I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is silly. Elinor Greenwood is just an ordinary woman who I knew I was going to meet today. It’s not fate, it’s business.
“If you wait just a minute, I’d be more than happy to takeyou to her office,” J.J. offers.
Two other guests fidget in line behind me. J.J. has a fun energy, but I certainly don’t want this woman with me when I meet Elinor Greenwood, possibly Ellie. Who knows what embarrassing thing she might say. I’m already on edge as it is.
“That’s kind of you, but I’m certain I can manage if you point me in the right direction.”
“Of course, you’re probably good with directions. My late husband was, and he was tall like you.”
I am tempted to ask how his height helped him with directions. But eager to wrap up this conversation, I hold my tongue. “Take that door just to the left of the piano,” she points to a nondescript door that blends into the wood paneled wall. “Go straight down that hall. Elinor’s office is the second one on the right. You can’t miss it. There’s a shiny plaque with her name on it and everything”
“Thank you! An absolute pleasure to meet you, J. J.” I put out a hand to shake. I suspect that if there wasn’t a desk between us, this woman would give me a hug. She has strong hugger vibes. Kind of the complete opposite of my mom.
