“Leaving the kids behind,” Garrett said flatly.
“Where is it written that parents can’t take a vacation without their children?” Shelby flared.
“Shelby, you’re talking to a man who has built a chain of motels dedicated to the proposition of parents vacationing with their children,” her father reminded her. “We sincerely respect your position, Mr. McGrath, and we admire your incredible success,” he added with a fulsome smile.
Her father sounded like a fawning sycophant! Shelby gaped at him. Could this be the same man who’d always expounded at length on the horrors of having to cater to guests under twelve? Who’d considered banning teenagers from the premises—unless they were working here at less than minimum wage. It was safe to say that Arthur Halford did not dote on children. Shelby could personally attest to that, having grown up as one of his own.
Garrett glanced at his watch. “I have some calls to make,” he announced abruptly. He grabbed his sport coat and headed toward the door.
“Shelby will escort you to your cottage,” Halford offered at once. “And she will be at your disposal until we meet for lunch at one. I have a table reserved on the terrace—if that meets with your approval?” He glanced deferentially at Garrett.
“Lunch on the terrace at one sounds good to me,” affirmed Garrett.
It didn’t sound good to Shelby. It was just ten o’clock, which meant that she was doomed to spend three whole hours with the insufferable Garrett McGrath before passing him along to her father. She couldn’t do it, Shelby decided.
She turned to her father. “Dad, as you know, you gave me this morning off and I’ve already made plans. I can’t possibly—”
“Change your plans,” her father ordered, glaring balefully at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, I am still the one to give orders around here and I am ordering you to devote yourself to Mr. McGrath’s service.”
He turned to Garrett, all smiles once more. “You’ll be staying in cottage 101,” he added, naming one of the largest, most elegant and newly refurbished cottages on the grounds. Like the rooms and suites in Halford House’s main lodge, the outlying cottages comprising the complex had the full range of hotel services.
“I’m sure you’ll feel quite at home there, Mr. McGrath,” Halford continued expansively. “Presidents and royalty have stayed in 101 and been very pleased with the facilities.”
“Presidents, royalty, and now a McGrath,” Garrett remarked as they left the office, Shelby trailing slightly behind him. He seemed to be laughing at his own private joke.
And the joke was on her, Shelby was certain of that. They passed Miss York’s desk and Garrett bade her a cheerful goodbye. Unsmiling, the secretary acknowledged him with a grim nod.
“At least Miss York is still in character,” Shelby muttered as they approached the main desk in the main lobby.
“According to your father’s description, so are you.”
Shelby asked for and received the keys to cottage 101, then strode briskly from the building into the bright Florida sunshine. She knew Garrett was ambling behind her and she paused to wait for him by a tall palm tree. She had to ask, she couldn’t put it off another minute. “What did my father say about me?” she demanded.
“That you’ve just returned from a ten-year stay in California among other things.” Garrett faced her squarely.
“And those other things are?”
He shrugged. Though it might surprise those who had previously accused him of heartlessness and lack of tact, he wasn’t about to tell her that her own father considered her as feral as a jackal. “He mentioned that you’re different from your sister Lacey, or Lynnie, or something like that.”
“Laney,” Shelby corrected. She was appalled that her father had been discussing her with this man. And if he’d been comparing her to Laney, she could well imagine which sister had fared the worst. “Her name is Maclane but she’s always been Laney.”
“Shelby and Maclane. Sounds like a law firm.”
“Garrett McGrath. Sounds like an aspiring country music singer.”
“Merely an aspiring singer?” Garrett complained mildly. “How about a country-music legend instead?”
Shelby shook her head. “An aspiring singer. One who never even gets to make a demo tape and ends up as a dishwasher at a Nashville diner.”
“Ouch! Okay, then Shelby and Maclane are a pair of disreputable ambulance chasers rather than a staid, established firm.”
Shelby scowled at him. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Garrett shrugged. “It’s fairly typical for me.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She glanced at him curiously. “Are you really the oldest of nine?”
“Sure am. In descending order—Glenn, Gracie, Fiona, Eilish, Devon, Caitlin, Brendan and Aidan. Are there just you and your sister Laney?”
“Just the two of us. She’s fourteen months younger than me,” Shelby said flatly.
“And she loves cute little dogs. You, on the other hand, eat them for breakfast. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
Shelby groaned. “What else did my father tell you about me?”
“It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it. I admit that I don’t know the man very well, but from what I’ve seen so far, Arthur Halford is a first-rate hotelier, but definitely loses in the father sweepstakes.”
Shelby’s temper, too close to the surface around Garrett McGrath, flared once again. “I can’t believe you have the gall to criticize my father after he’s offered you the hospitality of Halford House and agreed to allow you a kind of on-the-job training in its operations.”
“He’s something of a dud as a dad, but you defend him,” Garrett observed. “You’re a very loyal daughter. Is that why you came back from California, Shelby? For the opportunity to work side by side with your father and—”
“Why do you ask?” she cut in sharply.
“I’m curious as to why you decided to return to Port Key and Halford House after living so far away for ten years. Your father claimed he didn’t know the reason, either, that you suddenly announced you were on your way back here.”
“My reasons for returning are personal and none of your business, Mr. McGrath,” Shelby said stiffly. She turned away from him, taking a path into the lush tropical gardens.
“If you make it a mystery, you’ll only encourage me not to give up until I know everything,” warned Garrett, right at her heels. “There’s nothing I like better than a challenge.”
“And all along I thought your favorite thing was slapping up dirt-cheap motels where they aren’t wanted.”
“It’s
