“What else can we do? You can’t go on living here, Arne. We haven’t heard any update since Aunt Pop went into hospital.”
Arne’s expression twisted at the mention of the old lady owner. He was very fond of her. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t know what’s best.”
With a squeal and a blast of cold, the front door swung open, and a flurry of snow swept into the lobby. We all turned as one to cry, “We’re closed!”
But the guy who entered didn’t retreat. He was tall and stocky, well-protected from the weather in a thick pea coat, and a dark red scarf wrapped around his neck and bearded chin.
“Fucking Santa come early,” Tom snickered beside me, until I stood on his foot to shut him up.
There was a moment of hushed confusion while the man stepped up to the desk. Then he tugged down the scarf to reveal a pleasant and apparently genuine smile.
“I’m Rick Thatcher. I sent a letter to say I’d be here today.”
“Rick?” Arne pushed to the front of our huddle, nodding and vainly trying to push his messy hair back into its bun. “Yeah, I saw the letter, but I forgot the date. You’re Aunt Pop’s nephew.”
Rick’s smile turned a little sad. “You called her Aunt Pop, too? That’s sweet. I don’t think I even knew Patricia was her real name until recently.”
“You’re her real nephew, though? I mean, I never met you before.”
He laughed. “Yes, I am. I’ve got the papers with me to prove it.”
Tom wriggled between me and Arne to get a better look at the new guy. “You know she’s in hospital now, right?”
Looked like my stamping on his foot didn’t keep his mouth shut for long enough, but Rick didn’t seem shocked.
“I know. Actually…” He frowned for a moment, as if wondering what to tell us. “Well, the hospital called me. I’m afraid she’s passed on.”
“Oh shit,” Arne gasped, and Pyotr slid a supportive arm quickly around his waist. Arne had been here the longest, and he’d really liked the old lady. “What about a funeral service, who’s looking after it all—?”
“That’ll be me,” Rick said, his expression softening. “I’ll let you know when it’ll be. She asked for a local service, just with me and a few friends attending. I’m sure that would include you.”
“She loved it here,” Arne said. “She told me this hotel was her sanctuary.”
Then the door burst open again, bringing more bloody snow, and a second man entered. Shorter and slimmer than Rick—though most guys would be—and smartly suited like a top executive, albeit an executive with a damp coat and shoes. Older too, maybe early forties. He wore it well. I took a second look at him, maybe because I got a lot of clients like him. Maybe because… well, I wanted to.
“Rick?” He shook the snow off his shoulders, forehead creased with annoyance. “I found a car parking space on one of the roads around the back. God knows if it’ll still have its tyres when we’re done here.” He was Scottish, I reckoned, with a soft, sexy burr rather than the harsh accents I sometimes heard. He paused, his gaze finally settling on us. “I’m sorry. I thought the hotel had closed months ago. Are there still guests here?”
Tom snorted. It was Liam’s turn to cuff him swiftly.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the newcomer. Had his look lingered on me? Short, dark blond hair, expensively cut and blending well with grey temples, shrewd blue eyes, but with crinkle lines at the edges, like he laughed a lot. His mouth was a generous shape, and I bet he was a great kisser. But he wasn’t kissing—or laughing—right now. He frowned at us all.
Back off, Dante. He was a reminder of the kind of guy I really liked, when I had a choice. Also, the kind of man I’d decided to avoid at all costs. He wore charisma like the coat he’d probably just thrown on that morning—a perfect fit, but not important to him, at least not while he had the mismatched bunch of us to deal with.
“These men were already here,” Rick said calmly, though he must have wondered what the hell was going on too.
“Have they broken in?” the second guy asked bluntly.
“Hey.” Arne bristled. “At least let me explain everything before you make any snap judgements. We’ve been working here.”
Rick nodded with sudden recognition. “Of course. You’re Aunt Pop’s chef!”
“Yes. But there haven’t been any guests to cook for in months. Now I entertain clients here.”
I consciously moved nearer, in solidarity. Arne announced all this with total confidence. He’d never judged himself by other people’s standards. He was proud of who he was, enjoyed what he did. And we were his friends.
“He means, in the bedrooms,” I added, just in case there was any misunderstanding. “Like we all do.”
It was interesting to see how the realisation gradually blossomed in the two guys in front of us. I mean, you only had to look at Tom to hazard a guess at what work he did. The make-up, short hem, and incongruously large, high-heeled shoes were pretty clear indicators he didn’t work in insurance. But the rest of us were in simple, daily clothes. We could have been housekeepers or cleaners.
However, I don’t think any of us had the innocent, daily staff look.
“I see.” Rick nodded. His expression didn’t change significantly. He was a little surprised perhaps, but there was no disgust, no anger.
The other guy? The look on his face was harder to assess. His flush may have been from shock or… was it embarrassment? He briefly caught my eye, and the flush deepened. Then he turned to Rick.
“If I understand correctly… What the hell would your Aunt have said?”
“Oh, I can probably guess.” Rick had a strong, deep voice, and he sounded amused. “She was pretty laid back about most things. As long as the hotel’s been looked after in her absence.”
“It has been,” I said swiftly. “Arne’s made sure of that. We have to take our turns with the chores, in return for which he lets us hire the rooms, and eat in the kitchen when he’s cooking.”
“And she knew,” Arne said softly, defiantly. “Well, she knew about me, because I sometimes brought clients here while she was still around.”
Rick nodded, slowly. His eyes looked softer. “Thank you for helping her.”
Arne startled. “Did she say something to you?”
“No. But I’m sure you did help.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. Or I tried to. She was fiercely independent, even when she had trouble getting around.” Arne looked a bit tearful. It wasn’t often I saw him disturbed like that. Rick had somehow seen through to his soft centre.
“Dammit, she was. She’d slap my hand away if I even tried to help her out of a chair.” Rick chuckled then sighed. “I wish I’d seen more of her. But I work in construction, and half my time’s spent in the north of England.”
“So, what happens to us now?” Liam asked bluntly.
I glanced at Rick’s companion, and he looked quickly away. He’s still watching me. My heartbeat quickened.
“It’s okay. We understand,” Arne said to Rick. “This was only ever a stopgap for us. I’d hoped Aunt Pop would come back, but… I guess I knew she was seriously ill. Do you know what’ll happen to the hotel now?”