Forever Summer - Melody Grace Page 0,28

Did he throw you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry? Are you going to do it again?”

“Yes, yes, no, and definitely, absolutely not,” Evie said firmly, even as visions of Noah’s lips danced in her mind.

“We’ll see about that,” Jules declared. “Save the details, I want to see your face when you tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing else to tell,” Evie protested.

“Liar! See you soon.”

Jules hung up, and Evie took a deep breath, feeling a little better. Jules was right—about moving on, at least. The first year without Glen had been awful, and even she would never want to experience that sense of terrible loss again. Everyone had promised it would get easier in time; she hadn’t believed them, but it was true. Now, when she thought of Glen, it was with fond memories; the ache was softer, the grief faded at the edges.

But she didn’t know if she was ready not to think of him at all.

Evie shook off the question as she approached the Sandy Lane Hotel. It was an exclusive luxury spot just outside Sweetbriar Cove, and Poppy had arranged for her to meet the manager, Brooke, to chat about the nuts and bolts of the hospitality business. Evie hadn’t wanted to impose on her with all her Innkeeping 101 questions, but Poppy had insisted.

“Trust me, she’d love to chat. Brooke is the most organized person I know,” Poppy added. “And there’s nothing she loves more than showing off her systems.”

So, there Evie was, trusty notebook in hand, ready for some real talk about running a business on the Cape.

“It’s so great to meet you,” Brooke said, once they made their introductions. She was a chic blonde in a linen pantsuit, and if Poppy hadn’t already described her as capable and efficient, Evie would have been able to tell as much from the way the hotel staff all snapped to attention when Brooke passed by. “And it’s so exciting about the inn. We’re always overbooked, and I’d love to have somewhere local to send all our overflow guests.”

Evie followed her through the lobby, taking in the gleaming marble and modern chandeliers. The place had a breezy vibe, full of simple luxuries with fresh-cut flowers on every polished surface and crisp linens at every window, showing off the stunning ocean views.

She gulped. The Beachcomber Inn had to compete with this?

Her panic must have shown, because Brooke smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I have a staff of over a hundred people here, plus a very generous corporate backer. Nobody will be expecting this from you. The bed and breakfast scene is totally different, much more personal and rustic.”

“Phew.” Evie let out a sigh of relief. “Because it’s just sinking in how totally ill-equipped I am to do this. I’ve never even run my own business,” she added.

“What did you do before this?” Brooke asked, leading her out onto a breezy, shaded terrace. There was a table set for lunch, looking out over the curve of golden sand.

“I was an office manager, at an insurance company,” Evie explained as she took her seat. “Not exactly glamorous, I know.”

Brooke laughed. “Are you kidding? That’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“I always say, if you know your way around accounts receivable and are used to dealing with bozos on the phone every day, you’ll do just fine in the hotel business.”

Brooke ordered them some iced tea, and soon they got to chatting about everything from linen services to liability waivers. Evie took frantic notes, realizing she’d just hit a goldmine of insider info. “Don’t cut corners on the little things,” Brooke advised. “Fresh flowers, good coffee… those little luxury touches go a long way.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Evie commented. “I always treasure hotel toiletries as the ultimate indulgence, but it never occurs to me that I could just buy the same brands to use every day at home!”

“Right?” Brooke smiled. “That’s what we’re here for: to make people’s vacations feel like a break from their regular life, something special and out of the ordinary.”

“And make them book for next year,” Evie added. “To capture that feeling all over again.”

She looked down at the long list of tips she’d been making. “I can’t thank you enough,” she told Brooke again. “This information is priceless.”

“I’m happy to help,” the other woman said, just as a flustered-looking clerk hurried over.

“Brooke? There’s a small … situation in the kitchen.”

Brooke paused with her glass of iced tea halfway to her lips. “What kind of situation?”

“Just a teeny-tiny fire,” the girl said.

“A fire?!”