Late fall wind made the air crisp. She could see her breath fog as she spoke to the man who picked up the other end. “Hello,” she said, “is this Neville? Hi, my name is Ellie Montgomery. I got your number from...a friend.”
“You own the hotel on El Dorado Island,” the man stated, as if he knew her life’s intimate details.
She hesitated. “Yes, why?”
Stammering for a few seconds, he finally said, “You know Carter.”
“What about him?”
Silence followed. She thought she lost the call. Then he replied in a clipped voice, “What can I do for you, Miss Montgomery?”
“I have something I need to sell—at auction. Carter said you could help me.”
“What kind of ‘something’?”
“Liquor and wine. Dozens of crates and barrels.” She felt a rush of heat fill her cheeks, hearing how inane she sounded. Who calls someone to sell off booze? “The collection dates back to the prohibition era,” she added weakly, prepared to be hung up on.
“Is that right?” Interest rang in his voice. “Now I know why Carter referred you. Tell me more.”
Once she explained, Neville seemed eager to go to auction with her discovery. She wondered, “How much do you think it will go for?”
He paused. “I’d have to do some research. Off the top of my head, I’d guess five-hundred thousand.”
“Oh.” Her hopes deflated. Although that was a lot of money, the sale proceeds alone wouldn’t clear the hotel’s debts. “Well, something’s better than nothing. Would you be interested?”
Neville agreed, said he’d be in touch after she shipped the stock to him. She hoped her faith wasn’t misplaced. The last thing she needed was some stranger making off with her last source of income. But did she have any other choice?
Furious that things had degraded to this point, she paced the jagged line where the ocean caressed the sand. Wasn’t anything easy or simple? Why did her dearest wishes have to come at a price?
Miscalculating the currents, she side-stepped too late. A fresh wave rolled over her tennis shoes. Cursing, she moved higher on the beach. Clumps of wheat-colored grasses whipped back and forth in the wind. The moon hid behind a patch of clouds. A lone loon called its haunting tune into the night.
“Thanks, I needed that,” she muttered, scowling in the loon’s direction.
Miserable, with cold water squishing through her toes, she wondered if maybe she’d miscalculated her life in many ways. She looked up at the moon rising above the inky waves as the clouds dispersed. The sphere looked close enough to touch, as if she could walk ten feet out onto the water and catch the radiant orb that hung just beyond her reach.
Present circumstances were not what she’d pictured for herself, but perhaps the time had come to release her dreams into the shadows and accept reality. The reality that some things were simply beyond her control.
Silver wisps of moonlight sparkled on the crests of waves. Every wave contained beneath its surface secrets she would never know, secrets she hadn’t formed the courage to face.
But on one thing she did not waver. She’d never leave the island. It was no longer a question of why, but when—and how—she would play mistress to Carter’s millions.
Chapter 5
You’re not a quitter , Ellie told herself, rationalizing what she was about to do. This is for a higher cause. You have no other choice .
Tugging on the short hem of her pink-pinstriped skirt, she wheeled a breakfast cart toward Carter’s room. The hotel’s chef, the highest-paid worker on their meager payroll, had outdone himself.
She knew this elegant breakfast was a precursor for later that night. Ellie and Uncle Russert were hosting a dinner party for the town’s mayor, councilman and District Attorney, possibly the police chief—if she were so unlucky.
The chef, Pierre, had planned the entire five-course meal a month ago, and had been preparing it for the past seventy-two hours. The dinner must be exquisite, because over the span of the evening the Montgomery family would plead for the high-profile men to abstain from slapping hefty fines on them for not repaying the County Re-Development Act loans the hotel owed to the island’s city council coffers for lending her father money to improve the hotel. Which Ellie still couldn’t afford.
Positioning the cart in front of Carter’s door, she knocked. “Carter, breakfast is here.”
Early this morning Matilda revealed that her uncle invited Carter to the dinner. Why Russert wanted a potential investor to overhear potentially incriminating political innuendos, she couldn’t fathom. However, Carter’s astute mind would likely deduce the information whether he was present or not. Maybe the more inglorious part of the negotiations would take place behind closed doors, after lots of martinis.