Page 68 of Hibiscus Heights

Deb loved the look. “What an impressive job you’ve done.”

“You gave me the vision,” Maileah replied.

“And you pulled it off.”

“I just know what people like.” Maileah raised a shoulder. “I wasn’t trained for this. I studied marketing.”

Deb made a face. “Don’t minimize your talents. Your instinct for making an impact is genius. Everything is marketing. Now, let’s test the lighting.”

The lighting crew adjusted the lights for them, subtly illuminating focal points inside and on the adjoining veranda and terraces.

“I love that,” Deb said, envisioning the effect. She approved the lighting and scheduling.

Maileah crossed off this item on her clipboard list. “Looks like we’re ready.”

“I’ll second that,” Whitley said, joining them.

Maileah looked up from her list. “Next is the pre-event cocktail party with the media. We’re meeting in the Sunset Room.”

“Are our special guests confirmed?” he asked.

“Sailor is coming with three other champion surfers. We have several sports players from San Diego and Los Angeles teams, and a few actors from Hollywood.” She rattled off the high-profile names. “The press and social media influencers will have plenty of opportunities to chat with them and take photos on the property.”

Whitley looked impressed. “You’ve delivered all you said you would and more.”

Deb was proud of how Maileah had stepped up for this job. She moved onto the terrace, where tables dressed in crisp linens awaited guests. Local flowers—bird of paradise, red anthurium, and pink ginger—bloomed with simple elegance against the blue of the sea beyond.

The silent auction section showcased local island-inspired art alongside vintage surfboards that had been expedited and arrived just in time.

“Excuse me,” Whitley said, stepping out to join her. “I just received word that your style team has arrived. They are setting up in the room now. The housekeeping staff also left your steamed eveningwear there. It’s nearly showtime. For all of us.”

* * *

Room 418 sat at the end of the hall, its brass numbers gleaming despite the corridor’s dim lighting. Deb turned the key and stepped inside to find the hair stylist and makeup artist setting up their stations. Deb had asked that the room be rearranged to accommodate them.

A fruit platter, bottles of sparkling water, and two silver pots of coffee also awaited them. Tonight would be a long night, so they needed to pace themselves.

Carmela, the best stylist on the island, had worked in New York and Paris before opting for a simpler life on Crown Island. Her friend Desiree still worked on Hollywood sets during filming. Both women wore chic black knitwear.

Deb greeted them warmly. “Thanks for accommodating our unusual venue.”

Carmela looked up from arranging her tools. “No problem at all. Though I have to say, it’s freezing in here. We turned off the air conditioner and tried to open a window but couldn’t budge it.”

“It’s still chilly,” Desiree added, rubbing her hands together before opening her makeup case.

Deb checked the thermostat. According to the temperature set, it shouldn’t be anywhere near this cold. Her pulse quickened with suspicion, though she wouldn’t let on for fear of losing Carmela and Desiree. Many people were uncomfortable around the resident spirits.

Princess Noelle, Deb suspected. She’d checked in nearly a hundred years ago.

“Faulty air conditioning, most likely. I’ll have the maintenance staff check it out.”

Strange occurrences had transpired here over the years. Did the past somehow seep into today? Did different timelines coexist and occasionally overlap? Deb didn’t know how that might work, but she knew enough to have concerns.

“Cold might be okay,” Deb replied, knowing there wasn’t much they could do. “We’ll all be on edge tonight, so this temperature will keep us sharp. But I can have the staff bring up heaters and more robes for us. I’ll check that window, too.”

“Good luck,” Carmella said, shaking her head.

Deb noticed the evening gowns lined up in the closet, along with their bags and accessories placed on a bank of shelves. Everything looked ready.

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