Page 21 of Postmarked December

The doors opened to an empty hallway, thank goodness. She maneuvered her suitcase over the threshold of the elevator and walked down the carpeted hall, scanning the numbers for her room. As soon as she got in, not even noticing the stunning table and upholstered chairs, the inviting king-sized bed with a fluffy, crisp duvet, or the waterfall view out a pair of sliding doors, she dropped her bags and opened the envelope.

Heather,

Over the years, I threw myself into my creative journey and the causes I was passionate about, and you went right alongside me without ever complaining. My biggest fault was thinking I had more time to fit in everything else. I should’ve taken more time to find out what you wanted to do, and I should’ve let you get dressed up and taken you on more trips like this one, where we had no agenda, just wandering around, doing whatever we wanted. I know you loved this hotel when we saw it during our anniversary trip to Greenville. We were starving newlyweds then and couldn’t afford to stay here; I should have spoiled you later.

Let me pamper you now… Enjoy the view. More to come.

While others could look up that she and Toby hadn’t had a lot of money when they’d first met, only a very few knew about their trip to Greenville that first fall or that they hadn’t taken many trips apart from those for his charity work.

She scanned the words again, stopping on the last line. More to come?

With her pulse racing, she called Marion to tell her about the note.

“What does that mean—more to come?” Heather asked, pulling back the curtain to take in the literal waterfall that ran next to her private balcony.

“This is spooky. It’s like Toby’s really there,” Marion said.

“It doesn’t make sense. Who would he have told this to? He wouldn’t… He literally wouldn’t,” she said, completely baffled. “You know the great lengths he went to in order to keep our lives private. There’s no way he would’ve told someone these intimate details.” She let the curtain drop back into place and sat down on the bed. “I used to tell him he should celebrate his fame a little bit, and that it was okay to let people in, but he was adamant that his privacy was all he had to himself, and he’d never give it up.”

“Please be careful,” Marion said. “I’m still on the fence with whether this is a stalker situation or not.”

“I know. I’ll keep my head on a swivel.” She stood up. “I just got in, so I’m gonna go and try to relax for a little bit.”

“Call me later.”

“Okay.”

Leaving the envelope on the table in her room, Heather realized how hungry she was. She decided to check out the hotel restaurant. Dinner for one with a view of the Christmas lights outside might be nice. She went downstairs and made her way to the softly lit dining room. The hostess showed her to a table.

Through the window, a Christmas market buzzed with people, and a tall Christmas tree in bright lights illuminated the walkway as a snow machine sent snow onto a flock of giggling children. She picked up her menu and scanned the choices, but really, she was thinking about Toby. She’d like to think this was some kind of Christmas present he’d orchestrated just for her, and not some horrible trick by a prowler who had somehow found out about these precious moments in their life together.

The waiter came over, collected the second place setting, and brought her some water. In the spirit of celebration, and because Toby’s note mentioned pampering herself, she ordered a decadent cocktail with rum, black tea, hibiscus, spiced citrus oleo, and cardamom. With her drink order in, she sat back amid the candlelight and surveyed the room. A couple toasted with their glasses of champagne and a group laughed while someone at their table talked animatedly.

The place was filling up, a small crowd forming at the hostess’s station. It didn’t take long before all the tables were occupied. Good thing she’d gotten there when she had.

She’d settled into the comfort of her surroundings until she caught sight of a single person across the room. In the chair opposite the figure was a familiar laptop bag. While pretending to peruse the dinner choices, through the dim light, she tried to make out the eyes. A waiter went over to his table, and when the man turned to speak, she dove behind her menu.

It was Nick from the plane.

Of course he’d be staying here.

Chapter Nine

With nowhere else to look, Heather turned to the hostess who was trying but failing to seat a couple, with all the tables full.

The waiter brought Heather’s cocktail.

When he left her table, Nick was staring straight at her. He threw up a hand and gave her a little wave. She waved back.

Oh no. He was getting up and walking toward her. She straightened in her chair.

“What are the odds?” He grinned down at her. Then he looked around. “Table for one?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“But weren’t you meeting someone?”

Shoot.