Page 25 of Summers at the Saint
“Good for you.” Shannon gave Livvy a peck on the cheek, but drew back when her daughter tried to hug her.
“Mom, don’t be like this,” Livvy wailed. “I’m not joining a cult or going to prison. I’ll be six miles away. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“Because I can’t. I can’t pretend when it comes to those people. That place. Liv, please. I’m asking you…” Shannon’s voice broke.
Olivia stuck her fingers in her ears. “Can’t hear you. Lalalalala.” She shook her head as she walked away. “I’ll call you next week to let you know I’m still alive.”
Her back was to Shannon, so she didn’t see the haunted expression on her mother’s face.
Traci Eddings stood in the lounge area of the new staff dorm on move-in day. As she sipped a mug of coffee from the kitchen’s Keurigmachine, she looked around and liked what she saw. Everything was just right, because she’d taken charge of the project herself, much to Charlie and Madelyn’s annoyance.
“We have people for this kind of thing, Traci,” Charlie had said when he encountered her instructing the maintenance crew on how she wanted the bamboo blinds installed.
“I know. But I want to do this. It’s a creative outlet for me—much more rewarding than staring at spreadsheets and rack-card rates.”
He’d muttered something unintelligible and wandered away.
She wondered if her employees were experiencing the same mixture of excitement and apprehension that had flooded her all morning.
The first to arrive was Felice, her new chef. She carried a single duffel bag and a pillowcase bulging with what Traci suspected was her laundry.
“Where do you want me?” Felice asked.
“Everyone’s room has their name on a little brass plate on the door. Your room is at the back, on the right-hand side. I hope you like it.”
Before Felice could reply, the front door opened and the others entered: Olivia Grayson, Garrett, and a well-muscled twentysomething hunk who was dressed for a fraternity party in salmon-colored Vineyard Vines shorts, a loose-fitting, untucked white dress shirt, and Topsiders. He had to be KJ Parkhurst.
No sign of Parrish, which was a bad look for a family member.
Garrett, who was the senior-most in terms of employment at the hotel, and obviously regarded himself as the unofficial leader of the dorm residents, gave her a wide, assured smile as he strolled down the hallway, pausing in the kitchen to look around. “Hey, Mrs. E. This place turned out sweet.”
“Glad you approve,” Traci said. “All right, everyone. Please take a seat in the lounge. I know you all have shifts coming up, so I won’t take up too much of your time.”
The front door opened and Parrish walked in, looking as though she’d just pulled an all-night rager, clutching a can of Red Bull inone hand and tugging an enormous hard-sided aluminum rolling suitcase with the other. Three pairs of eyes stared at her.
Sorry,Parrish mouthed, sensing her aunt’s annoyance. She scurried to join the others.
“First off,” Traci said, “everyone has been assigned a room, and your name is on a small brass plaque on your door. You’re all adults here, so I’ll expect you to behave accordingly. You’ll be responsible for keeping your own bedrooms clean and orderly. Upkeep of the communal areas, like this lounge, the bathrooms, kitchen, and laundry area, will be your responsibility as a group, although housekeeping will stop in once a week to do heavy cleaning. I’d suggest you work out a schedule to share cleaning responsibilities.”
She pointed a finger at the men: Garrett and KJ. “It might surprise you to learn that the summer I was nineteen, I lived in a staff dorm here on the Saint property. What I remember vividly from that experience is how little the guys did of their share of the grunt work. Maybe times have changed. I hope they have. But just in case, I want to repeat that you all share equal responsibilities for upkeep of this facility.”
The women in the group exchanged knowing nods.
“Similarly, this communal living arrangement is an experiment. An expensive experiment. It only works if all of you respect one another and yourselves. Illegal drug use will not be tolerated and will be cause for dismissal. Sexual harassment of any kind—also cause for dismissal. Again, respect—for one another’s privacy, for boundaries, for the greater good of this little community here—is absolutely essential.”
She felt her phone buzzing from the pocket of her jeans, a reminder that she had an important meeting back in her office in five minutes. “That’s it,” Traci said. “Have a good summer, and please don’t make me regret this arrangement.”
As soon as the boss was gone, KJ picked up the remote control from the coffee table and flicked the television on. “Cool. Premium cable package.”
An awkward silence fell over the room as the others glanced at each other.
“Okay,” Garrett said finally. “Hey, y’all. I’m Garrett. I’ve worked here for the past ten years. Mrs. E just promoted me to headwaiter at the Verandah.” He pointed at the latecomer. “Don’t I know you?”
Her smile was tight. “I’m Parrish. I’ve worked at the Saint in different capacities since I was a kid. I’ll be working guest relations at the hotel, but only for this summer.”
“Parrish? Aren’t you Ric Eddings’s daughter? Mind if I ask why you’re living here with us commonfolk?” Garrett asked. “Especially since you have that sweet house up on the bluff?”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed dramatically. “Yes, I’m Ric’s daughter, and Traci’s niece, and yes, I mind if you ask questions that are none of your business,” Parrish said. She got up and walked down the corridor, suitcase in hand. She stepped into the room and closed the door without further comment.
