****
Laura woke early the next morning. A low mist hung over the lawns and it was wonderfully quiet. She indulged in a long shower, then pulled on linen trousers and a sleeveless vest top and dragged her hair into its customary tail.
When she heard raised voices from next door, she rolled her eyes. If those two didn't sort out their differences soon, she might have to deal with complaints from the other guests. As she slicked on a little makeup, she wondered what Daniel Stone's girlfriend was like. Probably unbearably gorgeous—he didn't come across as the kind of man who stood for anything less than the best. Laura wondered how old he was. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, maybe?
Annoyed at the direction her thoughts were running, she scowled at herself in the mirror. This was so unlike her, allowing someone to invade her head this way! It wasn't hard to remind herself that Daniel Stone's manner left a great deal to be desired, and that he considered her a bumbling idiot to boot. Besides, the man was clearly spoken for, whether he liked it or not—and the way things sounded next door, he didn't like it one little bit.
She picked up her bag and stepped out of her room, but as she locked her door, she was halted by the flow of angry words coming from room eleven's open window.
"But the return flight isn't transferable!"
"Not my problem, Natalie. You wanted a holiday, so you can have one—only not with me."
"Daniel, you're so tired, you're not thinking straight. If you were, you'd know this makes sense. I was owed some holiday and needed a break. You spend all this time travelling alone. It'll be nice for you to have some company. I know you weren't expecting me, but now I'm here, why don't we make the best of it?"
Laura stayed frozen to the spot, unable to decide what to do next. If she walked past their room now, they would hear the gravel crunching and it might make them uncomfortable to know she was there. Yet going back into her own room seemed too ridiculous. As she wavered, Daniel's voice took on a hard edge.
"I may be tired, Natalie, but I'm not senile. I can still think perfectly straight. You had no right to tag yourself onto this booking; even worse to assume I would be okay about us sharing a room."
"But we've shared a room before." Natalie's voice dropped a notch, adding a sultry undertone.
"That was a long time ago, and it's over and done with. It's time you got the message and left me alone."
Since the sultry tone hadn't worked, Natalie resorted to tears. Laura winced at the sound of dramatic sobs, and glanced impatiently at her watch. She needed to get to reception and open up.
"There's no need to be cruel," Natalie whimpered.
"It seems to me there's every need," he shot back, "because you're obviously taking no notice. You've gone too far this time. I have too much work to do here."
At that, Laura frowned. What did he mean he had too much work to do here? He'd said something about business to Natalie last night, too. And Paulo thought he didn't seem like a tourist. Perhaps he was here on a business trip rather than a holiday? But if so, why stay in a hotel several miles from town, way out on a country road?
"But I can help you with that, don't you see?" Natalie whined.
"No, thanks. I work alone—and sleep alone."
"But Daniel…"
"No buts. I'm going down to the breakfast bar for a very strong cup of coffee, then up to reception to beg for some very strong painkillers. And by the time I get back, I expect you to have sorted this mess out."
With a start, Laura realised he was about to leave his room. She twisted her key in the lock and shot back inside, leaning against the door and listening until his footsteps faded away. She waited an extra couple of minutes, then let herself back out, shaking her head in disbelief. This was like being an extra in some third-rate spy movie!
As she walked up the path, she couldn't help but glance at room eleven's door, which had been left ajar. When she caught a glimpse of crumpled sheets on the floor, she hurried on past. If they wanted to fight with the bedding as well as each other, who was she to judge?
****
Reception was busy that morning. Yesterday's new arrivals needed street maps of Viana do Castelo, and advice on where to go, what to see, and where to eat. Several guests who were already in the middle of their stay popped in for something or other, so she had a chance to introduce herself and get to know them. The day was warming up, but the small, whitewashed reception building, originally a lodge to the main estate, stayed comfortably cool inside, and Laura dealt with everyone in an efficient and friendly manner.
She enjoyed helping people get the most from their holiday in an area she was so fond of. It was a delight to pass on her knowledge to interested adults instead of reluctant teenagers. Laura dearly loved her teaching job, but by the time summer rolled around, that old saying "A change is as good as a rest" could not be more apt.
Laura guessed it was Natalie Hartman the minute she came in. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her enter the room, every piece of clothing a designer label, every perfect glossy brunette spiral curl in place—putting her own plain ponytail to shame. The woman was wearing large sunglasses, which Laura suspected were more to hide the fact she'd been crying than a fashion accessory. Sensing irritable impatience, she finished with her current customer as quickly as possible, grateful there was no one else waiting.
Natalie stepped forward,
