Page 42 of Here With You

A scream pierced the air, and Em put her coffee down. “It’s time for damage control.”

At least two dozen seagulls surrounded the family, pecking at the food. When Mrs. Blackthorne tried to shoo them away, one nipped at her. Within seconds, the family abandoned their perfect place on the beach and ran for The Kessler.

“I’ll take care of them. Can you gather the remnants and take the dishes back to the kitchen?”

Miles stared at the melee where another dozen birds had joined to fight over chunks of melon and egg.

He narrowed his eyes. “Did you do this to make The Kessler look bad?”

“I didn’t do this. I warned all of you, but you thought you knew better. There are rules for a reason.” She could be cruel at times and competitive, but The Kessler belonged to her niece and nephew, and she’d never go out of her way to damage its reputation. “In what world would I want The Kessler to look bad?”

“In a world where Mrs. Blackthorne was the critic.”

She laughed. “That woman? No way. She’s not sophisticated enough. Besides, she would have known the risks if she were a world traveler. She’s no critic.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be critical right now. Why didn’t you stop it when you knew what would happen?”

“I tried to tell you both. What was I supposed to do? Refuse to deliver a meal you’d promised them? That would only make you look bad, and that wasn’t my objective.”

“No, you were teaching me a lesson.”

At the time, letting it all happen seemed the thing to do, but now she wasn’t sure. She’d made Miles feel bad, and a guest was hurt. “She got bit. When you’re done, can you come to look at it?”

She pulled out her phone, called Tilly and asked her to set a table for four, and then walked inside The Kessler. Luckily, the family was in the lobby.

“Mrs. Blackthorne, I’ve set up a table for you in the dining room of The Brown. Breakfast is on us. We’re sorry your experience wasn’t perfect, and we’d like to make it up to you.”

She held up her bloody finger. “You knew that was going to happen.”

Em reached for a Kleenex box and handed it to Mr. Blackthorne, who hadn’t said a word since it started. “Apply pressure to the wound.”

Em wasn’t going to argue with the woman. Telling her she warned her would only put Mrs. Blackthorne on the defensive.

“Follow me, and I’ll get you taken care of.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Margot. “Can you make sure housekeeping gets the Blackthornes’ rooms done first? They’ve had a traumatic experience.”

“You got it, boss.”

“This way.” She led the family to The Brown dining room, where Tilly had prepared a table. In the center was a tray of her famous pastries.

Miles showed up seconds later with a first aid kit.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I had no idea the locals were so aggressive.” He kneeled before her and took her hand in his. “I’m new here, so please accept my apology.” His thumb rubbed Mrs. Blackthorne’s palm the whole time, and Em watched as the woman melted in his presence. “Let me see that bite. I’ll get it cleaned up and bandaged.”

A thread of jealousy moved through her, and she chastised herself for being so immature. She’d asked him to look after the woman and that was exactly what he was doing. “I’m sure it’s just a small cut and will heal.” It was essential to acknowledge the injury but minimize its damage. She didn’t want the Blackthornes leaving and a lawsuit to arrive a week later.

“Better safe than sorry.” He let go of Mrs. Blackthorne’s hand and opened his first aid kit. “While I clean the wound, Emmaline can get you a new order of quiche and juice.”

“I’m over the quiche,” Mr. Blackthorne said as he glanced at the menu. “I’ll take steak and eggs.”

Em wanted to say,sure you will since I’m buying,but she didn’t. “Absolutely. What about the rest of you?” She glanced at the kids and then Mrs. Blackthorne. The two girls ordered waffles and bacon, and Mrs. Blackthorne ordered the same as her husband. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

When she got to the kitchen, she told Tilly the order and asked, “Can you help me bury Miles’s body after I murder him?”

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

He placed a Band-Aid on Diane Blackthorne’s finger. “It’s not deep and will heal without a scar.” It probably didn’t need a bandage but putting one on made her feel better.

“She really should have demanded we eat inside. That woman knew exactly what would happen,” Diane said. “She had an evil glint in her eye when those birds were pecking at our breakfast.”

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