“If I don’t, I may have to extend my stay to two months.” The woman leaned closer. “You don’t mind if I ask you questions about the area, the weather, and where good places to kill someone are, do you?”
“Ask me anything you like.”
Mrs. Nickle took back her license with a laugh. “I bet I’m the strangest guest you’ve had all week.”
“You’re not even the strangest guest I’ve had today.” Riley probably shouldn’t have admitted to that. She laughed nervously and tried to backtrack. It would be just her luck if The Riverside Inn was memorialized in a best-selling novel as some place where a trio of homeless guys roamed the hallways along with a group of middle-aged men who considered themselves polar bear furries.
After the woman headed to her room, Riley stared out of the picture window into the falling snow for several minutes. This was what she got for being prideful enough to want to fill therooms and prove to Lucas what a good assistant manager she was.
She took a deep fortifying breath and told herself that the worst was over. Most of the people who’d booked the special rates had already checked in. Only one more special-rate person was coming to the inn three days from now. The choir singers would show up on December seventh, and they would no doubt be respectable guests. Everyone else would be the normal sort of tourist.
Riley brought up the reservation for the last low-rate guest. Mrs. Lewis. There was a note on her account saying she was visiting friends in Lark Springs for the holidays and needed a place that accepted pets. Sara had given her permission to bring her dwarf wallaby.
Hold on, a wallaby? That was like a small kangaroo, wasn’t it? Who owned a pet dwarf wallaby?
Riley shut her eyes. It was probably fine. No one had ever mentioned that they were allergic to wallabies, so perhaps that animal was better than a customer who brought their dog. The woman was only going to be here until Christmas. Most likely, no one would even see the wallaby. It wasn’t as though people took their pet kangaroos out for walks in the snow.
Still, Riley put her face down on her desk in a gesture of defeat. She really should have gone to college and become an accountant. Accountants never had to worry about people bringing wallabies to the workplace.
CHAPTER 10
On the morning of December seventh, Lucas got ready for his first day as the new management. He felt odd about putting on a suit and tie for work instead of his police uniform. Ties were uncomfortable and required you to keep your top button done up. Maybe he could ditch the tie after the first month or so. He at least needed to look like a qualified manager until then.
Last night, he’d moved his things into the owner’s apartment on the top floor. It was quite the change from the apartment he’d shared with friends which had always been a mishmash of belongings and styles. Or rather, a lack of any style.
Here, even though the place was mostly empty, the ornate ceilings, crown molding, and thick wood doors hinted at the building’s illustrious past.
Lucas didn’t have much to put in the rooms. His old apartment had come with lots of furnishings—cast-offs from former tenants—so he’d never gotten around to buying his own stuff.
His bed and dresser seemed forlorn and small in the large bedroom, and only his parents’ old couch and coffee table surveyed the arched roof of the living room. He’d bought akitchen table and had it delivered. It looked mismatched—new wood, smooth and without dings—next to the shabby living room furniture.
The carpet had seen better days, but the top floor had the best view in the building. Large windows graced three of the walls. There were no window coverings—something that had made it hard to sleep this morning and even harder to dress. He’d had to take his clothes into the bathroom to change there.
Trees spread around the area, giving way to the riverbank on one side. Another side showed the far-off lights of Lark Springs.
He wondered if Riley had ever been inside the owner’s apartment to see the view. Perhaps it was one of the reasons she wanted to buy the place. He could imagine her here, flitting about, decorating it until it looked warm and cozy.
He straightened his tie, then straightened it again. He shouldn’t feel nervous about taking over as manager. Carson had assured him that during the winter season, there wouldn’t be much for him to do. Learning the ropes, that’s what he’d be doing for the next few months. Working with Riley would be awkward at first, but they’d get past it.
This job couldn’t be harder than being a police officer.
He headed down the stairs. The first item on his agenda was a meeting with Mr. Ross. The previous owner was coming to teach him how to use the computer system, go over the supply chain spreadsheets, and that sort of thing.
Riley would also be downstairs at the front desk for the seven to four shift. The thought of her made his mind buzz. He would take one look at her, remember what it had been like to kiss those lips, and he’d either be tongue-tied or say something stupid. That was generally what he did when he saw her these days.
He tried to imagine her looking at him with a smile and telling him good morning. It wouldn’t happen. At least nottoday. She would be cool and aloof and do nothing but primly sit and watch to see if he failed. He was not about to give her that sort of satisfaction.
He went down the three flights of stairs. There was a small elevator in the back, but it only went to the third floor, and it was slow, so there wasn’t much point in using it.
Mr. Ross met him in the lobby and introduced him to the staff on hand. They were a mixture of ages, mostly women.
As a police officer, Lucas had gotten good at reading people, and he could tell that this group had a knack for making someone feel like they were either being mothered, interrogated, or set up for something. The group was sharp, warm, and just nosy enough to keep him on edge.
It was quite a change from the officers he was used to working with—mostly men who spent their free time at the gym.
JoAnn, one of the inn’s two cooks, passed around cinnamon rolls she’d made. With a round, friendly face and gray threading through her brown hair, she looked like she was on the fast track to becoming someone’s grandmother.
“You’ll breathe new life into the place,” Wendy, the housekeeper, told him. She was in her thirties with long dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a look about her that said she took pride in a job well done.