Page 1 of Sunset Cove
ChapterOne
A blast rang out and Claire popped up from her pillow. It was dark in the unfamiliar hotel room as she strained to listen through the hollow silence.
Voices carried through the door and a moment later, she heard the clamoring of dishes. Her heart was still racing as the room service cart clanked by.
Claire let out a sigh. The sound had been real, not imagined. She hadn’t startled herself awake from a dream this time, the same one she’d dreamt a thousand times.
It had variations, of course. Sometimes she was onboard the small single-engine plane, screaming as she felt a force pulling her down, down, down, before exploding in a flash of light.
Other times, she dreamt she was on the ground, watching as the little aircraft’s wings clipped the tops of the trees before slamming into the side of a mountain.
No matter how it started, the outcome was always the same – fire, confusion, and a lack of survivors. Just like it had been in real life.
New chapters in life often started with a crash. Claire knew that. She was trying to avoid any crashes, collapses, or otherwise destructive starts this time, however. She hoped that her new beginning on Orcas Island would go smoothly. Quietly. That she’d be in control.
As much as that was possible. She rolled over to check the time on her phone, but despite pushing its buttons and giving it a shake, it refused to wake up. She squinted in the darkness and saw that the phone charger was hanging loosely from the outlet.
Ah. Loose outlets weren’t uncommon in old buildings like this. It was just another improvement they needed to make. She marked it down in her notebook.
The list was growing quite long, as she’d expected. It’d been nearly a week since she’d closed on the sale of The Grand Madrona Hotel, and she’d spent each night in a different room, taking notes, admiring the views, and finding out that many of the hotel’s critical reviews held nuggets of truth.
Her neck and shoulders were stiff from an anxious night, and she stretched before hopping out of bed and scooting across the creaking hardwood floor. She liked the sound; there was a charm to the hotel, something that she didn’t want to lose. The 1920’s style sang through the little details: the eloquent tile patterns, the gold-trimmed banisters. It just needed a bit of polish to really shine.
She pulled the curtains open with a dramatic swoop and the sunlight peeked in. This was the best room in the hotel – the Sunset Suite. The placid ocean waters filled her view and, in the distance, tiny green trees rose to the sky, a thousand perfect brushstrokes on the mountainside.
With some effort, Claire managed to open the old window and take a breath of the crisp island air. The sunlight quieted the jittery thoughts in her head, and she felt the fear of the morning fizzling away.
Claire smiled to herself. So what if she didn’t know anything about running a hotel? These views sold themselves! How hard could it be?
Not that hard – at least not yet, though she was open to suggestions. Claire had hired a hospitality consultant who told her to spend at least one night in every room of the hotel. He argued that she needed a true idea of what the experience was like for guests, and since there were only thirty-two rooms, it didn’t seem too cumbersome.
This was her sixth night, and she was glad she’d saved the suite until now. The room was more spacious than the others, and the furnishings were more grand. Best of all was the gentle sound of the water lapping at the shore – she’d never grow sick of it.
The night before, she’d sat in front of the window and watched as the sun set behind Turtleback Mountain, turning the sky from a smattering of orange and red, to yellow, and finally a glowing blue.
It was a perfect place, better than a dream. Claire leaned out of the window and closed her eyes.
There was a knock at the door. “Housekeeping!”
Did housekeeping always come this early? She leaned forward to grab her watch from the desk and startled at the time. It was nearly nine o’clock!
She’d promised to be out by eight so that housekeeping could get the room ready for the next paying customer.
“Just a few minutes, please!” Claire called out. She was supposed to meet the general manager, Charles – or did he go by Chip? – at nine for their first formal appointment. He’d been out the week prior visiting family for the holidays, and she was excited to finally talk to him.
Claire needed to make a good impression on Chip. The previous owner, Steve, said that the hotel lived and died by the manager’s orders.
She got dressed and hastily threw her bag together, slinging it over her shoulder before catching the elevator down to the lobby.
This was perhaps her favorite spot in the hotel. Everything about it just felt right – the sleek marble floors, the art deco furniture, the chandelier that hung over the elegant, sweeping staircase.
Most miraculously of all, this stunning place washers.
Gigi was manning the front desk – sort of. Her head was bowed down, eyes fixed on her cell phone, and all Claire could see was her black hair.
Claire walked up to the desk, apparently unnoticed, and cleared her throat. Gigi looked up from her phone before letting out a sigh. “Good morning.”
“Good morning!” Claire said as she heaved her bag onto the table. “Would you be able to store this for me? I’m not sure if my next room is ready yet.”
