TWENTY-TWO
Construction dust was going to be the death of her. It was the third time in the past hour the vacuum gagged and sputtered to a stop, but this time it seemed to be serious about staying dead. The crew should have used a Shop-Vac for a preliminary cleaning of the remodeled set of rooms, but Aria Zimmerman suspected they’d skipped that step.
Aria took a swig from the lukewarm water bottle. She could find the new foreman she’d heard had just arrived, or ask her boss, George, for a new vacuum—a stranger versus the man who’d been like a second father to her the past two years. It was no contest.
Aria blew a stray curl off her damp forehead, but it only bounced up and down, tickling her eyelashes. Cleaning in resort areas paid well, but the hard work took its toll. She stood still for a moment in hopes her heart rate would decrease before she tried to talk to George. Thankfully, during her off hours, she sat in her computer networking classes where her sore back could take a much-needed rest.
Aria stared out the window and studied the cliffs in the distance. The beauty beckoned her to call it a day and hike amidst the Sitka spruce trees in the state park, an outcropping on the bluffs above the shore, and listen to the sound of the ocean waves crashing below.
While the state park was only a short distance away, there wasn’t easy access unless Aria was willing to cross the creek and climb up the few hundred feet through rocks and weeds. Not feasible. She’d need to drive through town, down the highway, and zigzag through the winding roads of the park to get to the trailhead.
Since there was already a dusting of snow on the coast, she’d have to settle for a stroll on the beach to loosen her muscles. Sand Dollar Shores was a small town on the Oregon coast, only busy during the tourist season. The unincorporated town didn’t have enough funds to handle the slightest flurry of snow. Locals knew enough to put on snow chains or hunker down until it melted, usually within hours.
There were twenty buildings spread out on the property of The Shoreside Conference Center and Resort. The top floor of the main center was fully remodeled, the last step being carpet, which could only be installed once Aria finished her chore. Her empty water bottle prompted her into action.
She stepped out into the open hallway and leaned over the balcony railing to survey the lobby below. Her stomach dropped at the distance between the two floors. Aria clenched the wood banister underneath her fingers and inhaled. Her new fear of heights took her by surprise at the worst of times.
A wall of windows framed the front of the reception area, displaying the Pacific Ocean. Too bad the dark clouds marred its beauty and, as a result, the lobby’s lighting seemed dim as well. If Aria had designed it she would’ve made the roof curved, without the hard lines and edges that now framed it. A domed ceiling would’ve allowed for more light.
George walked around the corner of the reception counter, a stack of papers in his hands. Aria opened her mouth to call down to him but stopped when George nodded at someone underneath the balcony. Two men in suits strode into sight, approaching the reception area.
“What was so important, George, that we had to meet in person? I had to cancel two meetings with potential investors. Investors that pay for projects like this. What’s the problem?” The man with salt-and-pepper hair shoved his hands into his pockets.
George’s chin jutted toward the other suit. “How about you introduce me to your associate first, Robert? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
The man named Robert shrugged. “Just a colleague of mine.”
Aria’s neck tingled. Something didn’t seem right. Why wouldn’t he introduce the stranger?
“Anything you can say to me, you can say to him,” Robert continued. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What about you, George? Anyone else around?”
George straightened, his chest puffed out and his chin held high. Except, at fifty-eight years old, his five-foot-six form dressed in a striped blue-and-white polo and carpenter jeans wasn’t the least bit intimidating. Especially when compared to the men in suits. George’s eyes lifted over the suits’ heads and widened for half a second at the sight of Aria. His features relaxed, but he held her gaze as his lower lip protruded slightly and he shook his head. “No, there’s no one here but me.”
Aria stepped backward into one of the empty rooms just in case George’s gaze would draw the suits’ attention. Why had George lied? Was he trying to tell Aria to leave without causing her embarrassment? Or did he want her to listen in? It didn’t seem right to eavesdrop, but she also didn’t know what else to do without a vacuum. All the construction dust needed to be sucked up before she could mop.
She made her way through the open connecting doorways between rooms. Five rooms down, she peeked into the hallway. She was beyond the balcony and past the risk of interrupting the meeting, yet the way the lobby echoed she could still hear their conversation. She’d listen on the off chance George might want to discuss it later.
During the remodel, they only used natural light from the windows. Aria preferred to avoid the crew, though, and started after they left at three. She had maybe forty minutes to spare before the sunset would force her to pack up for the day.
The housekeeping cart sat right where she had left it. Usually filled with miniature soaps and luxurious bath towels, it was now loaded with heavy-duty cleaning supplies. At least she could start dusting the windowsills. She slipped the orange oil aerosol spray into the pocket of the apron tied around her waist.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a man exiting a guest room farther down the hall. Her heart jolted. She thought she’d been alone on the second floor. She registered the brown steel-toe boots and the leather tool belt as the man walked in the opposite direction, his back to her.
His silhouette reminded her of someone—a stronger, older version of someone she once knew. With his denim button-down shirt and jeans, it had to be the new foreman. No one else on the crew would care enough to wear more than a T-shirt in the humidity, even during winter.
“This is unacceptable!”
Aria stiffened and looked back over her shoulder. Clearly, George’s meeting wasn’t going as planned. She strained her ears to hear the reply, but the voices had lowered to grumbling. Aria stepped into the shadows, pressed her back against the hallway wall and tiptoed back to the balcony.
“I can’t believe you fired my man,” the strange voice lectured. “I’m in charge here. That was the stipulation. You keep your hands off.”
“You’re bamboozling these
