Page 6 of Wrong Idea

“Yeah.” She smiled and then chewed on her bottom lip. “You know, I will need someone to work with me,” she started to say, but I knew exactly where this was going.

“Oli,” I sighed, and she put her hands out.

“I know! But if you wanted to work with me…” She shrugged, leaving the unspoken offer hanging between us.

“Thanks! That’s sweet, but I like it here. It’s peaceful. Not to mention the lake and the grounds inspire pages I design,” I shared. She made a face. I knew she understood but didn’t like it.

“But just in case the Storms decide our department isn’t necessary?—“

“I know,” I cut in. And I did.

I wasn’t naïve.

I’d had a feeling my time at The Crown was coming to an end for a while. I had no idea why, but for some reason, since it had sold to the Storm family, I couldn’t shake off the feeling. The door to the laundry room opened, and we turned to see a frazzled Stan waiting there.

“Stan?” Oli called, and I watched him make a face.

“Hey, girls!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked. I’d known Stan for a long time.

“The sky is falling.” He huffed dramatically. “I know you guys are busy here, but I need one of you to move into housekeeping.”

“What?” Oli frowned.

“Just for tonight.” He put his hands up. “I know it’s shit but…” Stan shook his head, “I had to fire Dalia. She was stealing.”

Dalia had been bad news since day one. But like I said, our grouchy manager had a soft spot and tried to help where he could. For whatever reason, he’d thought he could help Dalia when we all knew it was pointless. Nine out of ten times, she came in high as a kite, and if she wasn’t, her purse looked heavier and fuller than when she’d started her shift.

Oli and I glanced at one another, but we didn’t say a word. I could tell by the look on her face she didn’t want to do it, so I shrugged and spoke up.

“I’ll do it,” I said to Stan, whose shoulders sagged with relief.

“Thanks, kid. When it’s slow, I’ll come in here and help Oli however I can.”

“You don’t have to—“ Olive started to say, but I cut her off with a wink.

“Don’t worry about that, Stan. I got it.”

“She likes to hide in here,” Stan muttered and glared playfully in my direction. “If she didn’t, she would have worked her little behind up to my position by now,” he teased. Both Oli and I rolled our eyes without any real attitude behind it.

Stan swore up and down I would be the perfect fit for a higher position, but I genuinely liked working in the laundry room. Not only did I work nights, I didn’t have to deal with rude guests, or worse, higher management.

“I got this,” Olive said, taking the towels from my hands.

“I’ll try and steal you some chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen,” I said, and Stan shook his head.

“I didn’t hear that,” he grumbled, and we both laughed. I waved at her before exiting the laundry area and walking into the main area of the resort.

“How many rooms do you want me to take care of?”

“It’s only four of them tonight.”

“That’s not too bad.” I sighed, wondering why he hadn’t just helped Bertie, the other housekeeper on shift.

“It’s not, it’s just…” He stopped, and I did, too, staring up at him. Stan had just turned sixty and still had a full head of white hair. “Look, kid, two of the rooms?”

“Yeah?”

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