of braided flowers wandered over to distribute small flutes of complimentary ice wine to the thirsty travelers queuing up at the registration desk.
Roxie sipped her drink. She was delighted to discover it tasted like golden honey, sweet and thick and pure. She didn’t imbibe often, and just a couple of swallows produced a warm glow that drew her deeper into the magical atmosphere. Porter Langley had no idea what he was getting into if he set his cap at competing with Taylor Corben’s lavish destination resorts.
While they were waiting their turn to check in, an older woman, dressed in the same Tudor style as the young assistant, passed out a form printed on white card stock. “Hi, my name is Lucy Kenyon and I’m the entertainment director. To help tailor this experience to meet your needs, I’d appreciate it if you’d fill out this questionnaire and leave it with me.”
Roxie took the form and read through the short list of questions. Most of them were centered on her personal likes and dislikes. She answered as best she could, but paused when she got to the end.
“What are your hobbies, special skills or talents that you still love but haven’t had time for lately?” Jess read the last line on her card out loud just as Roxie poised her pen to answer it.
The question hit home. It had been so long since she’d gotten to do the things she’d given up after her parents’ tragic car accident. Becoming a surrogate parent at eighteen had caused her to grow up quickly. She felt a tug of emotion in her belly, a sadness mixed with yearning for everything she’d lost. She didn’t regret giving up leisurely pursuits for Stacy, but she did miss them, and she hadn’t really realized it until now.
“Oh gosh,” Sam said. “I guess we’re spoiled. We pretty much do everything we love.”
“What about you, Roxie?” Jess asked. “What are you putting down?”
Roxie doodled on the edge of the form, remembering how she used to enjoy acting. She’d even toyed with the idea of majoring in drama when she went to college.
Except she’d never gotten to college.
“I used to enjoying acting,” she admitted.
Sam nudged Jess. “You used to be able to whistle ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ That’s a special skill.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “It’s not one I want to revisit. Anything else you used to like to do, but don’t get to do now, Roxie?”
“Fencing.”
Sam blinked. “You like putting up fences?”
“No, dork,” Jess told her twin. “You know, en garde.” She illustrated with a badly executed fencing pose. “Like Zorro.”
“Ah, that kind of fencing.” Sam nodded.
“My father qualified for the Olympic fencing team when he was twenty,” Roxie shared with her new friends. “But my mother had just found out she was pregnant with me and he chose not to go.”
“That’s so sweet and romantic,” Sam said.
“Fencing was one activity we did together, just he and I.” And she hadn’t picked up a foil since his death. Roxie blinked, swallowed past the lump in her throat and wrote down acting and fencing in answer to the final question.
“Oh, I know,” Jess said. “We used to go with Dad on stakeouts. Let’s put down sleuthing.”
“Your father was a cop?” Roxie asked.
“P.I.,” Sam explained and frowned at her twin. “Sleuthing isn’t going to come in handy around here.”
“How do you know they’re not going to have one of those mystery theater events? We’d kick ass.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
