“I’m Laine Fulton,” she said, extending her hand to the man holding a sign that bore her name. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black ponytail holder. Though her white-blonde hair barely grazed the top of her shoulders, she could still pull it back, leaving her bangs to brush the corners of her eyes.
“Welcome to the Bahamas, Ms. Fulton. A pleasure to have you here.”
She caught a glimpse of his name tag and puffed air. “Thank you, Roy.”
He gave her a smile and opened the car door, showing no response to her sarcasm. She held his friendly black eyes. She wasn’t sure why. She just did.
“Where are you from, Ms. Fulton?”
She hated small talk with strangers. “California.”
He held on to the handle. “Oh, you have beautiful weather all the time. So is it work or pleasure that brings you to our tropical paradise?”
“All work. Always work.” She whispered the last statement more to herself.
“Well, do try to fit in some pleasure, ma’am. There is much to enjoy here.”
She placed her hand on the inside handle of the door. “I write the stories that tell others what they can enjoy.”
“Well, when you’re writing your story, be sure and let them know that the Bahamas here are known for their healing waters.”
“Is that so?” she asked as she climbed into the car.
He held the door open a moment longer. “Yes, but there’s a catch.”
She turned her face toward him. “And what would that be?” She resisted the urge to grab the door from his hand.
“No one can be healed when they won’t let go of their disease.”
“Well, then let’s thank God I’m not sick.” She didn’t resist any longer. She reached for the door to pull it closed. He resisted at first, then gave her a nod and closed it for her.
Something brooding yet kind was behind his dark eyes. She watched him for a few moments, then turned to look out the window. When her car pulled up to The Cove, she was still trying to shake his words.
* * *
“Ms. Fulton.” A brown-eyed woman addressed her as she stepped from her car. Her Southern accent would be certain to irritate her if Laine had to listen to it for the next week.
Laine reached out and shook the woman’s hand. “You must be Riley.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to have you here with us at the Atlantis.”
“Please, no ma’am is necessary. Everything taken care of?”
“Yes. Everything is ready and waiting for you. I’ve already checked you in and have your keys.” Riley gave her a smile and motioned for one of the valets. “Bart, take this up to Ms. Fulton’s room.” She handed him a room key inside a paper sleeve. “May I walk you up?”
“Sure. I’d prefer that.” The air was balmy even in the open-air architecture. Laine could hear the ocean as if it were a subtle background to the elements of nature that surrounded her. “Beautiful place you have here, Riley.”
“Thank you. We think so, and we’re glad you chose this for the setting of your new book. We’ve never had a novel set here before.”
“I know. That’s what I do. I like to take people to places they’ve never been. My last book was set in Dubai.”
“Yes, I heard. Sorry, I haven’t read it.”
“You’re never supposed to tell an author you haven’t read her books.”
Riley laughed nervously.
Laine let her rest in her uneasiness. “Tell me about the architect.”
“Jeffrey Beers was our interior architect. He wanted our guests to have a ‘sensory journey,’ as he called it. That’s why you have everything encapsulated here, from the sounds of the ocean and the movement of the palm trees to all the earthy elements and natural colors.”
They passed tropical foliage that surrounded a water garden and came upon Sea Glass. Riley motioned toward it. “This is our open-air lounge. It’s sophisticated and a great place to relax with a drink or just a peaceful place to enjoy the ocean.”
Laine could appreciate the detail, the contemporary yet still-soft lines of the exclusive resort. She had traveled the world. She knew how to appreciate beautiful things.
Riley continued. “And this is ESCAPE. It’s the first store location of Eva Jeanbart-Lorenzotti’s. She carries some fabulous haute couture items, and it is all duty-free.”
“Good. The government gets enough of my money.”
“I don’t know a person who would disagree.”
They entered the covered foyer of the actual suites at The Cove. The ceiling was as high as the outdoor corridors. “Hey, Gerard,” Riley said to a young man at the concierge’s desk. “This is Ms. Fulton. Gerard will be helping to make your stay as enjoyable as possible.”
“Oh yes, ma’am. Absolutely.” He extended his hand. “It will be my pleasure, Ms. Fulton.”
Laine accepted it and nodded her head graciously. “Nice to meet you, Gerard.”
“And you too, ma’am. I am available to you 24-7. It’s my pleasure to serve you this week.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”
Laine followed Riley to the elevators. As the door closed behind them, the small talk Laine hated began. “You’re from Los Angeles?”
Laine exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
“I’ve only been there a couple times. It’s very interesting. Completely different pace.”
“It fits me fine.” Laine paused for a moment, then took over the conversation. “So tonight I’d like us to have dinner at Mesa Grill; then tomorrow night I would prefer to eat at . . .” She stopped when she saw the slightly panicked look on Riley’s face. “I’m sorry; did you not realize I’d need you with me this week?”
“Oh, well . . . yes . . . sure, of course. This week is about you, and I’m here for you. So Mesa Grill is fine.”
“You’re hesitating?”
“No, no. I’m not at all. What time would you like to go?” Riley pulled out her phone. “I’ll make our reservations.”
“I’m an early eater because I go to bed pretty early and get up before
