As the heat of their fight faded to the agony of aftermath, she went numb with cold. Shivers wracked her body. The dining hall was a vast, empty shell of space darkened by the oncoming storm. She drifted across the room toward the doors like a ghost in fog, stricken and haunted, wandering between worlds, shut out of the past but unable to face the realities of the future.
“I’m better off without him,” she stated, as if the spoken words could convince her heart they were true.
For some reason the hotel looked different, felt different. Now the place was hers . No more fighting. No more juggling or scraping to keep everything together. No more hanging on to the final thread of hope that had pulled her through all these years, the lure of ownership that had dazzled her in the distant horizon.
Ownership had arrived.
Why don’t I feel happy? Why was there nothing inside her but exhaustion and emptiness?
“It’s just shock,” she told herself, reaching for the handles of the double-doors. “So much has happened. So much has changed—everything’s changed.”
Not the least of which included the fact that her windfall of two-million dollars didn’t feel like it belonged to her. She doubted the collection would’ve sold for that much if Carter hadn’t put in his exorbitant bid. Without him, she wouldn’t be here trying to revel in her debt-free homeowner status, trying to override her conscience that was telling her she hasn’t earned the right to possess her dream.
But I have earned this . All those ye ars of loneliness and sacrifice and barely making ends meet had brought her to this point. She had no reason to feel self-conscious. Just take the money and the hotel and don’t look back. Carter won’t. Neither should you .
The sound of breaking glass shattered her introspection.
The noise was followed by screams, a deafening crash and a thud that shook the hotel’s foundation. “Oh, my God.”
Then the lights went out. She felt the cut in the power as if she’d knocked into an electrical field. Heart thumping against her ribs she flung open the doors and ran into the darkened main corridor.
She saw the silhouette of someone moving toward her. “What just happened?” she asked into the semi-darkness.
“Ellie, was that you? Are you okay?” The voice and figure belonged to Carter. Heart-melting concern laced his tone.
Ellie replied, “I’m okay. I don’t know who screamed.”
“I’m about to find out.” He dropped his suitcases and raced toward the source of the cries. Ellie was two paces behind him.
A piercing wail traveled down the hallway. They followed the sound to the Great Room. The smell of smoke from the extinguished fireplace hung in the air. The room felt cold and damp, and Ellie shivered as she moved further into the space. The rain sounded like baseball-sized hail pounding overhead. What she could see of the sky through the windows looked like a giant bruise smeared across the heavens. Sinister clouds rode low on sixty-mile-an-hour winds and debris whipped by. A ripple of fear coursed through her.
El Dorado hadn’t weathered a storm this intense since she was eleven years old. When her mother died trying to flee the island. Against Daddy’s insistence that it was too dangerous to risk travel, she’d wanted to ferry Ellie to safety. Her father had refused to allow her departure. So she’d left alone and her boat had capsized in the treacherous waves.
Ellie shook off the painful memory. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she gasped, “Carter, look over there, by the fireplace.”
An enormous tree branch the size of a Grecian pillar had crashed through the far left window and toppled a bookshelf with its force. The last of its fall leaves rattled like dry bones as wind sailed through the broken window and rain sheeted inside. Books were strewn everywhere, torn pages flying. She tripped over wet leather book bindings, trying to gain her footing and determine the extent of the damage.
“Help,” came a whimper beneath the rubble.
“Matilda?” Ellie scrambled toward the woman’s weak voice. Without decent light she stabbed herself on twigs. Muddy leaves smeared over her skin and branches gouged her arms.
Ellie tore through the debris. “Matilda, where are you?”
“Here…”
Ellie wrenched back the tangle of branches until she saw two glittering blue orbs staring up at her. “Hold on—I’ll get you out of there.”
“You can’t lift it yourself,” Carter said opposite her. “Here, we’ll do it together. You push, I’ll pull.”
“Okay.”
“Ready? One, two, three .”
The thick trunk lifted several feet, allowing Ellie to grasp Matilda’s arm. She untangled the woman from the pile of fallen debris, pulling her to safety. The trunk fell with a thud.