She almost smiled. To irritate her father, she’d taken Christopher’s last name. Online, and soon enough in real life too, she’d be Ms. Hale again. He was probably drafting divorce papers as he waited for her grand entrance. She liked hearing her married last name while she could.
She stepped onto the curb behind the bellhop, who was pushing a cart with her bag. She scanned the entrance of the Inn, emotion catching in her throat. Too much of her life, identity, and soul were wrapped up in the bright, white building. Hiding in the shadows, she hadn’t had a genuine opportunity to process the monumental shift in her life. This was hers now. And the future had never been more wide open or terrifying.
Without her father to supplement her life with a monthly allowance, she was truly on her own. The poor-little-rich-girl status would not win her any supporters. Despite that, for the first time ever, she was in control of her choices and her fate.
She strolled inside the automatic doors to the lobby and breathed deep the scent of cut lilacs and hyacinths, releasing a delicate perfume. The large, open space held the reception and concierge desks to one wall, a large seating area opening to the porch in the back, and at the side, the entrance to the restaurant.
The bellhop had stopped at the reception desk. Chatting with the woman behind the high counter, he tipped his head toward Ashley. The woman met her gaze and offered a tense smile.
Ashley didn’t recognize her either. Never mind, she plastered on her biggest smile and approached the stranger at the concierge desk. Fake it till you make it propelled her through her hardest challenges. This moment didn’t even crack the top ten.
“Good morning,” she greeted the man in the suit, standing before his desk. “I am Ashley Hale-Lewis, owner of the Inn. See that the Gardenia Suite is prepared for me and my bags brought upstairs.” She tipped her head. “Thank you.”
She strolled across the marble tiles, her espadrilles silent as she floated to the dining room. She tried her best to channel every rom-com heroine she’d grown up watching. Too bad she didn’t have on a great hat, her arms laden with shopping bags to inform everyone of their huge mistake.
As she stepped over the threshold, from tile to patterned carpet, she dropped her shoulders and enjoyed her first actual smile in a long time.
Standing at the host stand, his mustache as neatly combed as his hair, Pierre Leduc checked through a ledger. He lifted his head. And did a double-take.
“Good afternoon, Pierre,” she said. Finally, one familiar face. The tight coil in her tummy released. She hadn’t anticipated how much would change at the Inn. The business always experienced turnover, but she hadn’t understood the extent.
The building was cool and efficient, just like Christopher. From the outside, she hadn’t seen the transformation. Growing up, the Inn had reflected her father’s often cheeky demeanor. Since her husband assumed control, however, the operation permeated with logic. She missed the playfulness of the past.
“Madam Ashley,” Pierre stammered. He stepped out from behind the stand. “How may I help?”
“Right now, I’d love a good table.”
“But of course.” He turned and snapped at a few servers, pointing toward the window. “Please, right this way.”
She smiled and lifted her chin higher. She couldn’t lose her nerve or drop the false bravado. As much as she wanted to retreat upstairs and hide in the comfortable bed again, she couldn’t be defeated. She’d have to show no weakness in front of the staff. No doubt the spies had already run upstairs to inform him of what was happening.
As she passed tables full of diners, she nodded and took the seat selected for her overlooking the lawn. She’d order and then make a big show of asking the guests about their stays. When he came down, he’d witness that she’d followed his plan with her own deviations.
If all was fair in love and war, she’d fire the first shot.
* * *
What did it mean that Ashley drove the same car? Clinging to the past?
Christopher wished he didn’t care. Safely back in his office after escorting her off the property before anyone realized she was here, he had turned the question over in his mind on a terrible loop. He wanted to turn off his brain and stop analyzing every piece of information.
His subconscious had other ideas, working overtime to fill in the gaps about her life. Her semi-frequent social media updates and occasional blog posts presented a rosy picture. He’d fooled himself into thinking he had the full scope of her world through her updates. He heard her voice in every description.
She’d had roommates over the years and kept the Inn as her reference for every job. He’d intercepted most of those phone calls, providing a good recommendation. With every call, he’d wanted to reach out and ask her to come back. But her father hadn’t relented on his stubborn stance that she’d beg to return. And Christopher knew his equally willful wife would expect a tearful plea to come home before she entertained the idea.
But Christopher had often feared her pride would ruin her. How much had she depended on the allowance he sent her for her basic expenses? Slowly, he realized how much he didn’t know about her despite trying to stay informed.
Another thought chilled him. Was the car not a choice but a necessity? If she had funds, would she have bought a newer vehicle?What if I hadn’t wired money to her account? Xavier had been explicit that money would not follow her off the property. But Christopher couldn’t help himself. Good thing, too. He didn’t want to think about her being destitute. How was that even a possibility? She was clever and quick-witted. She could charm her way out of any situation. As a kid, he’d been annoyed. As a teen and adult, he’d leaned into her skillset.
Why had she returned? She always waxed poetic about a fresh start. As far as he could tell, she’d enjoyed about fifteen. He didn’t want to think her coming here was truly her last option.
Because she simply couldn’t stay. He’d survived because of the distance. With her close, she threatened the equilibrium of his carefully ordered life. Quitting her had taken him years. And he’d fall into his addiction all over again at the first flutter of her eyelashes. He wasn’t leaving. He’d never dreamt of a better life somewhere new. As far as he was concerned, he liked history. Everyone knew him and vice versa. For better or worse, he never fought at the constraints of their small town. Even when some of the townsfolk would gladly push him out with a little help from his wife.
He wouldn’t think about that now. They would find a way towards a better future for both of them. It wouldn’t be together. Because now that she was back, they could resolve their business and officially move on. Legally. All the ties cut forever. Had she moved on already? Had there been others in the past ten years? She was fun and flirty without ever realizing how intoxicating those qualities were.
And now she’d be free to pursue whatever her next path was. He would too, although he didn’t see any change from the past decade. He wanted a family, but he couldn’t imagine one that didn’t include her. She came back looking for a fight, not friendship. He couldn’t let himself get confused.
The phone rang on his desk.
