Presley backs away from the counter. “I understand if you no longer want to be friends, but we have to work together. We both love our jobs. There’s no reason one of us should have to quit because of this.”
Lucy stares at Presley, her eyes glazed and expression blank.
“Just think about it, Lucy. We’ll talk more later.”
When Presley turns to leave, Lucy says to her back, “You look like them, you know?”
“Them who?” Presley asks still facing the door.
“My mother and son. I realize there’s a very good chance you’re my child. But I’m afraid. I’ve wanted this for so long. It seems too good to be true.”
Presley doesn’t know what to say, and she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears if she tries to speak. She nods, her eyes glued to the basement floor as she moves from the shop to the elevator. She has no idea where they go from here. But at least this is a start.
When she emerges onto the main floor, Stella calls her into her office. “You’re just the person I want to see. Close the door. Have a seat.”
As Presley takes a seat in the chair in front of the mahogany desk, she notices Stella’s grave expression. “What’s up? Have I done something wrong?”
Stella’s lips curve into a soft smile. “Not at all. I’m beyond thrilled with your performance. I have a delicate matter I need to discuss with you that concerns Naomi. I need your word that none of this will leave this office.” She taps her desk.
Presley sits up straighter. “You can trust me, Stella.”
“I know that. But thanks for saying it, anyway.” Stella folds her hands on her desk. “How much do you know about my relationship with Naomi?”
“That Jazz is your half sister, and that your shared father’s family were the original owners of the inn. Does this have something to do with Jazz running away on Saturday night?”
“That was the icing on the cake. Billy, my father, brought me to Hope Springs not only to run the inn but also to be near Jazz. He was worried about his youngest daughter’s safety. And he had good reason. Naomi is emotionally unstable. I need to know if Naomi has done anything to cause you concern or interfere in your job in any way.”
Presley nods. “During my first week here. She claims I misquoted the room discount rate to one of my brides. I contacted the bride to confirm that I’d given her correct discount rate, which I had. There’s no way to prove Naomi was lying. In the grand scheme of things, it was not that big of a deal.”
Stella looks up from the legal pad where she’s been frantically taking notes. “Except that a lot of small deals are adding up to a very big deal. Every staff member I’ve spoken to has a similar story. Unfortunately, this big deal still isn’t enough to fire her. I’m gathering evidence in the event I need it down the road.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Stella. When I first came here, before I understood your relationship with Jazz, I couldn’t figure out why you’d hired such an unpleasant woman to be your guest services manager. Imagine what our guests must think of her.”
“To Naomi’s credit, she’s usually polite and accommodating to the guests,” Stella says. “I would never have kept her on this long otherwise.”
“Have you spoken to Everett about Naomi? Her allegations against him were the most serious.”
“I would, if I knew how to get in touch with him.” Stella positions her ink pen over paper, prepared to write. “By any chance, do you have his number?”
“Sorry. No. But if I hear from him, I’ll have him get in touch with you.”
“Please do.” Stella tosses the pen on the desk and relaxes back in her chair. “On a more cheerful note, Cecily and I are organizing a Friendsgiving for Sunday night. I plan to email the invitation this afternoon. I’m counting on you to come. Bring a date if you like.”
Presley’s ego deflates. She’s the event planner. Why didn’t she know about this Friendsgiving? “That sounds like fun,” she says in a flat tone. “What can I do to help?”
Stella shakes her head. “Not a thing. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. The party is a way to show my appreciation to the team members for their hard work these past few months. And to say thank you in advance for the extra long hours you’ll be putting in over the holidays.”
“Speaking of which.” Presley removes her iPad from her bag. “If you have a minute, I’d like to go over my proposed calendar of events for the holidays.”
“A diversion is just what I need.” Stella checks her watch for the time. “I don’t have to be anywhere for another hour.”
For the next thirty minutes, they discuss tree lightings and Santa brunches and a dinner dance for the locals in mid-December. When Presley leave Stella’s office at almost four o’clock, she decides to finish out her workday from her apartment.
She’s sitting at her desk twenty minutes later when her phone rings with a call from an Atlanta area code. Expecting one of her brides, she answers in a cheerful tone.
“Presley, it’s Everett.” The sound of his voice warms her body, but her blood quickly runs cold.
“What do you want?”
“To explain. I have a lot of explaining to do, actually. Starting with why I left town so suddenly. My father gave my mother the beating of her life, right before he had a massive stroke and died.”
She knows so little about his background, and he’s told so many lies she’s expecting another one, but you can’t make up this kind of family dysfunction. “I’m sorry. How’s your mother?”
He lets out a sigh. “Recovering, but slowly. I’m an only child. She really needs me right now.”
Presley’s sympathy for him is short-lived. His mother is the one she feels sorry for. Not Everett. “Maybe
