Chapter Sixteen
Delta
I expected it to be hard, but when the first guest arrives at check-in, I realize that I’ve been preparing for this job for years.
“I see here in my notes, John, that you and your wife have stayed here several times. I hope you’ll be pleased to know you’ll be staying in room twelve again.” I hand the older gentleman a key.
He smiles warmly as he takes it. “The news about the Graysons just tore us to pieces,” he says, looking over at his wife, Janet. She nods, her frown sincere.
Reaching for my hand, she says, “Seeing someone besides Molly behind this desk just breaks my heart. Did you know her, dear?”
“No, I just ... um.” I pause, realizing that Boone and I never worked out my backstory. And the last thing I want to do is tell them I’m gonna be Boone’s wife when I plan on leaving soon. Looking at Janet and John, I swallow, looking for words that might make sense. “I met Boone after they passed.”
“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you, Delta,” Janet says.
“You, too,” I tell her with a smile. “There’s an itinerary waiting for you in your room, and lunch service is until two-thirty, so you have time to grab a bite.”
When they leave, I notice Mason watching me, drinking a beer with arms crossed.
“You need something?” I ask.
“Not a thing, honey. Looks like you got this whole thing figured out.”
“Well, it’s not so hard. But if you want to help, I can find something for you to do.” I look around my desk, knowing that a bunch of itineraries need to be updated now that guests have arrived and signed up for a few more activities.
He brushes me off, walking away as he takes a swig of beer. “Nah, you got it. Looks like Boone was right.”
Not having time to worry about a sullen Mason, I focus on my job, and greet another couple with two teenage boys—the father is excited to teach his boys to fish. And then a couple that are planning on taking a few kayaking trips. Plenty more guests file in throughout the day, and once everyone is checked in I take a break and head to the dining hall to find some food for myself.
Walking through the lodge, even covered with toxic taxidermied carcasses, I can’t help but smile. It warms my heart, seeing people so connected with each other, unplugged, looking over their itineraries as they sit on a cozy sofa or out on the deck. I notice Trey is refreshing the beverage station; men are drinking cold beers and women hold glasses of fresh iced tea. The lawn is dotted with kids of various ages running and playing. There are about one hundred guests checked in for the night, and the lodge is alive.
Grabbing a glass of water with lemon, and a plate of veggies with hummus, I notice Boone outside on the deck. I know it’s him; his sleeves are rolled up and his arms covered in the evergreen tree tattoos. I smile, thinking about the tall trunks firmly planted in the earth, and remembering how yesterday Boone told me that being grounded somewhere was a gift. My heart spreads with gratitude as I look around the lodge, the place his family created for so many to gather. He’s right: being here now does feel like a gift.
I stay planted on the outskirts of the dining hall, watching him speak enthusiastically about tomorrow’s fishing trip. He’s talking to a few men I remember checking in, three college buddies who haven’t connected in a decade, who all brought their families up here for a week.
Mason sidles up next to me, beer in hand. “So what do you think of opening day?”
“It’s so all-American. So apple pie.”
“Right? No surprise, though. My parents were wholesome through and through.”
“How they’d end up with you and Boone then?”
“Boone is wholesome. I mean, he won’t win Mr. Congeniality in the lower forty-eight, but he’s the guy people call in an emergency. The one people trust.”
My gaze returns to Boone.
Boone smiles slowly while he speaks with the guests; he was so stressed this morning, but he’s clearly in his comfort zone now. Whatever fear he was holding about opening day seems to have vanished. Pride sweeps through my chest, knowing I played a part in that. I did my job well. I helped and, while plenty of guests flirted with me, I’m smart enough to take it in stride, to smile sweetly, and accept the compliment without encouraging them. Boone underestimated me. He may think I’m a sex toy, but I’m more than that.
Mason takes a swig of his beer. “Word is you and Boone might not get hitched.”
“Who told you that?”
“Just heard Trey talking in the kitchen with some servers. Guess people are taking bets on if the hippy-vegan chick is cut out for life up here.”