trying to convince herself.
Charlotte hurried to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and her hair, touched up her makeup and applied lip gloss. She pulled a few things from her luggage, disappointed she hadn’t yet unpacked. Didn’t matter, this was vacation. A little food and a drink actually sounded like heaven.
She donned a long, flowing skirt and a matching floral peasant top. She retrieved her flat tan sandals from the outside pocket of her suitcase and struggled to buckle them in her haste.
She locked her laptop and purse in the room’s safe. There was no need to carry a purse when she had a pocket in her skirt to keep her room key.
Before going out the door, she slipped on her little white shrug with three-quarter sleeves. Even on the hottest summer days, most Newport evenings were cool enough to demand a light sweater or jacket, and this island in October was probably similar in climate.
Charlotte took the beautiful staircase rather than wait for the elevator. She’d noticed on her way up to her room that one elevator was out of service and she’d already taken several minutes getting herself presentable to attend the reception.
Partially hidden behind a palm tree in the lobby, Charlotte took in the gathering. The sight of food and a bar made her stomach growl. She thought she was being inconspicuous when she crossed the lobby to join the party.
“Hey, Allie!” one of the women in the crowd called out.
Just as she’d suspected, other people here knew Allie. Charlotte picked up a plate and reached for the vegetable tongs.
“Allie,” said a man directly behind her. “We were all wondering if you’d be here.”
Charlotte nearly dropped the tongs. She peered over her shoulder at the tall man with light brown hair, neatly trimmed facial hair and hazel eyes, who was probably in his mid-to late-twenties. She didn’t know him, didn’t know what to say. “I’m not—”
“I haven’t seen you since you left DP.” He lowered his voice. “You must be excited about our special guest.”
Did all these DP people talk constantly, not allowing anyone to say a word?
Charlotte merely nodded while she put a few carrots and broccoli florets on her plate and added a small puddle of white dipping sauce. What would it hurt if a few people thought she was Allie? Probably easier than explaining constantly. Every time she told someone about finding her sister, it reopened wounds that were still raw after reading her mother’s letter.
Everyone seemed to be ecstatic about someone special attending the conference. The more she heard, the more she was concerned that Allie wasn’t here.
Not wanting to seem rude, Charlotte turned to face the man whose name she didn’t know. “Yes, I’m very excited about our special—”
“Hi, Allie. Hi, Jared.” A woman joined them before Charlotte could finish her sentence. Great. Another person who thought she was her sister. The petite woman with whitish-blond hair was about the same age as the man Charlotte now knew was named Jared. The woman held an almost empty glass of white wine in her hand.
“Hey, Veronica,” Jared greeted her.
“Hi.” Charlotte pretended to survey the room, figuring she’d just go along with everyone thinking she was Allie for the night. During the day, they’d be at their conference and she’d be luxuriating in the sun on the beach. She’d probably never run into them again. “This is quite a crowd.”
Veronica nodded as she downed the last of her wine and set the glass on a tray with other used dishes.
Charlotte had nothing to talk about with these two. She knew nothing about them and very little about advertising. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and dunked her broccoli into the dip on her plate before taking a bite.
“I’m going to take advantage of the open bar,” Jared said. “Can I get either of you ladies anything?”
That sounded like an excellent idea, even if it meant she wasn’t ditching either of them. Better to talk to people who thought she was her sister than stand around awkwardly by herself. “I’ll come with you and see what they have.” Charlotte checked out what others were drinking. A few had little umbrellas in what looked like fruity drinks.
She pointed to someone walking past the bar and told the bartender, “I’ll have one of those.”
“Ooh, me, too!” Veronica had followed them and now she clapped her hands like a five-year-old who’d been promised ice cream. She nudged Charlotte with an elbow. “By the way, love your hair like this. It must be so much easier than curling it.”
“Um, thanks.” She touched her hair. She and Allie had their dark brown hair styled in almost identical chin-length bobs when they’d met. Allie liked hers curled most of the time, but Charlotte couldn’t be bothered since she worked from home and rarely had a need to get dressed up.
There was a lapse in the conversation. A perfect time for Charlotte to tell Jared and Veronica who she was.
Before she could open her mouth, their attention was drawn to a man ringing a brass bell.
* * *
SAM STOOD NEAR the food table and rang the bell to get everyone’s attention. When they quieted and turned in his direction, he put his glass in the air and looked at the expectant faces in the crowd. “I’m the resort manager, Sam Briton, and I’d like to welcome you all to the Grand Peacock Resort on Sapodilla Cay. I hope you’re all having a good time?” The group cheered, and he took a sip of his club soda.
He was about to begin his usual speech about the resort when the people parted. There was a face he recognized. Not a face he ever expected to see. Not one he ever wanted to see again.
Allie Miller.
Or, as he referred to the lying tramp from his past who’d attached herself to a boyfriend with no morals, Alley Cat.
THE MAN SPEAKING to the group stopped. He glared at Charlotte.
Her hand flew to cover her unexpected gasp, drawing more attention to herself. She had never seen this guy before, so why the loathing in his eyes?
Wow. He disliked her. Intensely.
She didn’t know what to do, how to behave. People didn’t usually react negatively to her, especially at first glance. He obviously thought he knew her.
Or her sister.
Her stomach flip-flopped.
The man cleared his throat. His contempt drifted away from her as he bared straight white teeth in a false smile to continue speaking.
Learning his name was Sam Briton didn’t provide any answers. Allie hadn’t mentioned him and he was the resort manager, not an advertising conference attendee. Charlotte watched him carefully, making sure she’d never met him, not even briefly. His deep-set, intense blue eyes would be striking, if not for his blatant animosity. He was average in height, with a strong jaw and short, dark hair. He had broad shoulders, a narrow
