Page 51 of Sapphire Sunset

Crap.Nobody’s going to be able to look awayfrom this woman.

He figured the interview had been filmed in her backyard.According to what he’d been able to learn about her online, it was a bigbackyard attached to a ten-million-dollar estate in Scottsdale, Arizona. Andyet, Sylvia was positioned in front of a humble-looking patch of hedge. Was theTV crew trying to conceal that off to her left was enough space to play poloin? It was anyone’s guess. At the moment, in the eyes of the camera, at least,Sylvia Milton wasn’t rich or poor or somewhere in between. She was a victim ofSapphire Cove.

“Are you satisfied by the arrests yesterday?” theinterviewer asked.

“Satisfied? I’m not sure I’d use anything like that word inthis instance. My husband’s final days were ruined by Sapphire Cove. They weresimplyruined.Marching a bunch of people in front of some newscameras isn’t going to give us back the last year of his life.”

“But in all fairness, those people were the very individualsthe FBI believes are responsible for this scheme.”

“This scheme, thisplot,is bigger thanindividuals. It went on for months. It netted millions, and in the processSapphire Cove violated the promise all hotels make to their guests. Security,privacy. Respect. Deference. A commitment to making their dreams come true.”

“This is not a woman who’s ever had to find a bargain onHotels dot com,” Connor’s mother grumbled from the seat next to him in theshadowed conference room.

“You can’t blame me for thinking,” Sylvia said, “that this isabout a place, aculture, an environment that allowed these acts toflourish.”

“Will you be bringing a civil suit against the hotel?” theinterviewer asked.

“I can’t comment on any legal action at this time. All I cando is share my experience, my late husband’s experience, and offer it as awarning to anyone who dares set foot inside Sapphire Cove before there is a changeof management or a change of ownership.”

As the camera held on Sylvia’s intense stare, the reporter’svoiceover cut in, explaining that a change of management was indeed underway,if not a change of ownership. Given the intensity of the woman’s anger, Connordoubted it would satisfy her.

An assistant pressed a button. Shades covering the wall ofglass to his left started to rise with a hum, revealing a stunning view marredby a cobra’s hood of dark smoke rising from the mountains on the westernhorizon.

Somehow Connor had missed the wildfire during his descentlast night, probably because he’d been too busy chewing his nails and staring athis feet.

The opposite wall of glass looked out onto their law firm’sexpansive office, but right now, a second wall of shades protected them fromthe prying eyes of other assistants with exposed desk carrels.

Their old family lawyer, a tall, broad linebacker of a mannamed Harris Mitchell, was seated across the table, but the manager of thefamily trust that owned Sapphire Cove was unfamiliar to Connor—Lois Penry, astocky, no-nonsense woman with a pageboy haircut and thick-framed glasses.

To his astonishment, Connor had actually managed to get somesleep the night before, probably thanks to the time change. So he couldn’tblame this raw nerve feeling on pure fatigue. Now that the conference room wasflooded with sunlight, he was once more having trouble looking away from thecopies of theLos Angeles Timesand theOrange County Registersomeone had laid out on the table. The hotel’s scandal was front page news onboth.

TheRegister’sheadline was particularly chilling.ISIT SUNSET FOR SAPPHIRE COVE?

“Something tells me this isn’t going to be the last we hearfrom Sylvia Milton,” Connor’s mother said.

“Late last night someone started a Twitter account calledStop Sapphire Cove,” Lois Penry said. “As of the interview this morning, it hasabout four hundred thousand followers. The hotel’s social media channels wereso deluged our digital marketing firm suggested we disable the comments featureon all of them. I gave the go ahead. I hope that’s okay.”

With a start, Connor realized they were all looking at him.Of course they were. Technically, he was the new GM, and so it had been hisdecision to make.

Impossible, he thought. This is all completelyimpossible.

“And we think the Twitter account is her?” his mother asked.

“We can’t prove it, but it would make sense.”

“Stop Sapphire Cove,” Connor said. “What’s she trying tostop us from doing? Firing the people who blackmailed her husband?”

“Booking rooms, it looks like,” Harris Mitchell said.

“So she’s trying to cancel us,” Connor said.

“Indeed,” his mother said. “Speaking of which, how are wedoing on the cancellation front?”

“They’re constant,” Harris said. “Two conferences have optedto pay the fee rather than proceed. Two more have decided to hang in, butthey’ve made it clear that if anything else bad comes to light between now andtheir dates, they’re out. And if we try to charge them the fee, they’ll hit uswith lawyers. And bad press.”

“So let’s say Sylvia Milton doesn’t let up and they canceltoo,” his mom said. “How long can Sapphire Cove operate?”

“If occupancy stays where it is now, which is pretty closeto zero,” Lois said, “we can operate out of cash reserves for about threemonths.”

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