Page 30 of Fragile Hearts

I’ve been at work for about an hour; the hotel has been busier than usual, with lots of people checking in and out, and we’ve been dealing with the typical complaints and needs.

The interesting thing about Owen’s family is that his parents still work at the hotels, coming in and out of the Orchid Bay on Maui often. It’s actually their home base in terms of where they live, but they head over to Oahu often, and they have a new ultra-luxury place going up on Lanai, too.

“Everyone doing okay?” Owen’s mom, Sally, asks. “Need refills on anything?” She opens the little fridge behind the counter, checking the POG juice and champagne supply, and then the number of leis we have.

She checks her watch and lets out a sigh, smiling as she says, “Amber, why don’t you go on break? I’ll cover for you.”

We all wear the same uniforms, even Sally. White button-front shirt, tan pencil skirt, along with an orchid tucked into our hair. It’s pretty simple and easy to wear, unlike some places I’ve worked, and even better, they supply the uniform.

“Okay, thanks,” Amber says, taking her water bottle from under the counter. “Is the pork ready yet?” Her question is directed at Sally, but I’m also curious.

Orchid Bay has some of the best kalua pork, and Sundays are luau days for the guests. We all love to work on Sundays because of it.

“It is, and there’s plenty,” Sally says, and Amber mouths a silent ‘yes’ of excitement, and I completely agree with her.

It makes my day to work on Sunday, and with how generous the Sinclair family is, I always get to take some home, having it for dinner too.

Amber heads back toward the breakroom, and I’m left with Owen’s mom, who normally wouldn’t make me nervous, but now that I’m living with him and things seem to be heating up, I find myself a little worried about what she might say.

“How are things going now that you and Owen are living together?” she asks, and damn it, my heartbeat kicks into overdrive, beating so hard that I feel it in my throat. “I’m so glad he was able to help when you had to move out of your place so unexpectedly.”

There’s nothing about her words that are condescending or accusing, which is something I’ve grown used to from people in my past. She’s genuinely curious, and when she looks over at me, she smiles sweetly.

“It’s good. The house is beautiful. I’m settling in,” I tell her, still feeling a little nervous but calming down as I talk.

“I hope Owen’s being a gentleman,” Sally says, her brows going up, and I let out a giggle. I don’t dare tell her that I’d rather he not be, especially after my conversation with Daisy about Owen’s ample goods.

“He is. You raised a wonderful guy,” I compliment, and she nods approvingly.

Our conversation stops there when two separate guests walk up.

“Hello, welcome to Orchid Bay. Are you checking in?” I ask, and the guest responds accordingly, so I begin asking all my usual questions. Getting them checked in quickly while Sally does the same thing next to me.

“Thank you for choosing Orchid Bay for your accommodations. We appreciate it. My name is Sloane if you need anything,” I say, somewhat scripted, but it comes out more naturally than it used to. I’ve been here for almost six months.

I hand the couple a map of the resort along with their room keys before asking, “Can I offer you a glass of POG juice or champagne?”

They both choose the champagne, and I hand them the glasses, etched with an orchid and the name of the resort. Everything is expertly branded but subtle, never inundating the guests with reminders of where they are.

I call over one of the bellhops to get their bags, and Sally and I finish up right around the same time. The lobby is buzzing with guests, the din of their conversations and music filling the space.

“My two favorite girls,” I hear a voice say, and I turn to find Owen smiling at us. “How’s it going up here?”

He gives his mom a kiss on the cheek, and then he walks over and does the same to me. I feel my cheeks grow warm, the pink spreading down to my chest.

“It’s good, darling,” Sally says, handing Owen a bottle of water. “How’d lessons go?”

“Great. Got another in thirty,” he replies, opening the bottle of water and taking a big drink. “Sloane, you sound so professional.” He laughs, winking at me.

“She’s very professional,” Sally counters, almost like she’s defending me.

“I know she is, Ma. Just giving her shit.”

“Owen,” Sally warns, and I’m guessing it’s because of his swearing. He rolls his eyes, and she swats him on the arm.

“And you look very professional too,” I joke, flicking a hand in Owen’s direction. “Does he ever wear a shirt?” My question is directed at Sally, and she laughs.

“Never. He’s been like this since he was little. Good thing he spends his days on the water, huh?” she says. “Not sure what you’re going to do when you have to get a real job.”

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