Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Cory

"Cory, there's a problem in Subtle Indulgence."

"Applesauce," I said into the phone, dreading his next words based on the rash of room intrusions we'd had recently.

"I know. I knew you'd react this way." Harlow, one of my front desk agents, knew me well enough to know that applesauce was a big ol' darn with a sprinkle of frickity-frack on top. "Mr. Winchester called, and I heard his wife having a fit in the background. She's convinced that someone went through their things."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll head on up there."

I'd been walking around, checking in on the various rooms in my forty-five-room boutique hotel and making sure all the guests were satisfied. It figured there was another issue. I might as well have stayed in my office and waited for it to come find me. Since I didn't want to make them wait, I got on the glass elevator.

The older gentleman I'd hired to run it during the day smiled as I stopped in. "I need to go to Subtle Indulgence, please. How are you doing, Everest?" I asked.

"I'm good, Mr. Letterman. How are you doing on this fine day?" No matter what I said, I couldn't get him to call me Cory like the rest of the staff did.

I shrugged.

He patted my shoulder. "You'll work it out, whatever it is. You've done a really fine job with the hotel. Real fine."

"Thank you." We arrived at the third floor, and I went to step out when I stopped and said, "I really appreciate you."

A smile spread across the Black man's face, wrinkling the character lines even more. He nodded his head. "And I appreciate you, sir. For giving me a chance."

As I headed down the hall to the Subtle Indulgence suite, I thought what a shame it was how thankful he felt for the job I'd given him. Sure, he was in his seventies, but he was still sharp as a tack and friendly. He used up a lot of his Social Security to support his wife and pay for the additional expenses for her medical care. It didn't leave them enough to live in.

When he'd come in for a job, what I saw was a broken man who didn't expect to be hired because so many businesses had already rejected him based on his age. But my husband, God rest his soul, hadn't been too much younger than Everest then, and he'd had plenty of life left in him until he was taken from me. Hiring Everest had been a no-brainer.

Smoothing down my waistcoat, I knocked on the door. The man who answered, Mr. Winchester, breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much for coming. My wife's a little?—"

"Get in here. I want to see him right now."

The man's face tightened. "As you can hear, she's a little concerned."

He gestured for me to come in, so I passed him and found his wife standing in front of the king-sized bed with her suitcase opened on top, throwing clothes into it from the dresser. "Mrs. Winchester…" I started.

She whirled on me, hands going to her hips. "Are you the manager?"

"The owner, actually."

"As you can see, someone went through our room."

Since she was mid-packing, I couldn't see that at all, but I'd never argue with a guest. "Is anything missing?" I asked, pushing the appropriate measure of concern into my tone without revealing my own anxiety.

"No, not that I can find, but that doesn't matter," she shrieked. "They touched our stuff. We've stayed here before and never had an issue, and now this. What are you going to do about it?"

Keeping my voice low and calm, I said, "Mrs. Winchester, if you?—"

"No. We're checking out now, and I want a full refund. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Ma'am, I can assure you…" I trailed off as her husband gave me a small shake of his head. Okay, then. Apparently, there'd be no reasoning with her. "You're sure nothing was taken?"

"No, I'm not positive, but I'm very neat and organized. The drawers were a shambles. Socks and underwear mixed, and shirts unfolded. I'd never leave it like that."

"And the safe? Did you use your room safe?" Please, please, please let their safe have been untouched.

"Yes, we did," Mr. Winchester said. "And all our valuables were still in there. Honey, are you sure?—"

She was understandably upset and cut her husband off again. "Of course, I'm sure. I put everything away like I always do." She glared at me. "We used the salon services this afternoon, and when we came back to the room to change and get ready for dinner, our drawers had been rifled through. I know. I never leave things out of place like that."

"Ma'am, of course, I believe you."

Her husband made a face that said he wasn't sure he did, and I wasn't going to prove her point by telling them this wasn't the first report I'd had of this in recent weeks. In the almost ten years since I'd opened the hotel, I'd never had any issues like this. As of yet, there'd been no theft, but I was getting worried. Today, there'd been nothing missing, but how much longer would that last?

"I'm so sorry this happened. Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?" I asked, speaking more to Mrs. Winchester than her husband since she was the one who was so upset.

"Honey, let's be reasonable." He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. "We leave town again tomorrow, anyway. Do you really want to pack up, just to go somewhere else and unpack, just to check out tomorrow morning? Please, let's stay here and see what Mr. Letterman has to offer."

She huffed but gave me an opportunity to speak. "I'm assuming you folks haven't had dinner yet." I knew they hadn't. She'd said as much already.

"No, we came up to change and found our room in a shambles," she said sullenly.

Her husband's eyeballs rolled up in his head like he was praying for strength. If this was the first time it happened, I might be tempted to agree with him, but I knew I had a problem on my hands.

"Can I offer you a night on me down at The Velvet Room for dinner? If you'd like, when you're done, you can head over to Discreet Delights for drinks afterward and enjoy the rest of your evening. We have a small jazz band playing. Of course, it'll all be on the house. Tell your servers to charge everything to your room number, and we'll adjust the bill before checkout tomorrow morning."

Mr. Winchester looked pleased at the offer, but his wife still looked suspicious. "Anything we want? All night long?"

"Certainly." I gave a half-bow. "With my apologies."

"Well." she bit her lower lip. "I guess that would be fine."

Pleased, I clapped my hands together in front of me. "Wonderful. I'm so happy you're staying."

Mrs. Winchester ignored me and started removing her clothing from the suitcase, folding them to put back into the drawer. Dismissed, I nodded at her husband and made my way to the door.

Before I closed it, I realized he'd followed me. "Thank you so much, Mr. Letterman."

Turning, I held my hand out to him, and we shook. "It's my pleasure. I'm so sorry this happened."

He waved me off and closed the door. It was a reasonable assumption that he didn't believe that their stuff had been tampered with. I wished I'd thought the same.

Bone weary, I made my way down to reception to put notes in the Winchester's file for checkout. When I got down there, Harlow and Huey were manning the desk.

"What happened, Cory? Are they checking out?" Harlow asked, wringing his hands together like I wished I could do.

"No. The husband didn't really want to, and I coaxed his wife into staying on when I offered dinner at The Velvet Room, followed by drinks at Discreet Delights on us."

"Whew. I bet that makes you feel much better," he said.

He had no idea. They'd spent several hours this afternoon Behind Closed Doors receiving spa services, and they'd already been here for four days. They could've demanded I comp a whole lot more, and I'd have done it.

Maybe Harlow realized that, though. He'd been working for me for around four years. He'd started out in the restaurant as a dishwasher, from there, he became a busboy, and then he'd approached me to be a valet, which he'd excelled at. He was personable and a great first encounter with hotel staff for our customers. Since then, he'd earned his spot as a desk agent, and I couldn't be happier with him. Honestly, I didn't know what I'd do without the kid.

Huey snorted. "I wonder if anything really happened or if they saw that Yelp review that old guy left about things being moved in his room. They're probably taking you for a ride to get free stuff."

Harlow's mouth dropped, but I chuckled. Huey was a little suspicious by nature, but I knew that he'd had a hard run. At thirty-years-old, he was older and more jaded than Harlow, so the two didn't always get on that well. But Huey had come to me with hotel experience not long after my husband passed, and I'd really needed more help at the front while I tried to get my shit together.

"Always so suspicious, Huey. I'm pretty sure the Winchesters aren't looking for freebies. She was really upset when I first got up to their room," I assured him.

Huey shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do. Can you update their file to adjust everything they charge back to their room tonight, Harlow?" I asked.

"Ab-so-lute-ly," he answered, making me grin.

Very few employees embraced my nineteen-twenties slang as well as Harlow did. Everyone was supposed to, but…I got it. They felt foolish, so it was kind of a big ask. I'd fashioned the hotel and everything in it—all the names for the amenities and suites—with speakeasy themes. What could I say? I was fascinated with everything during the Roaring 20s, from Art Deco to moving pictures to prohibition to flappers. What a cool time it must've been to be alive.

"Where are you going, big cheese?" Huey asked as I left their area.

Rolling my eyes, I pointed at him. "You know darn well you don't have to call me that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it fits."

Applesauce . I couldn't deny that. At least in this little kingdom I'd created, I was important. Or important enough, since I signed their paychecks.

"I'm going to mull over this latest occurrence at Vigor."

Huey nodded. "Gonna pump some iron, ha?" he asked.

"Don't worry, Cory. We've got it covered up here," Harlow said, side-eying Huey.

"I know you do. Thanks guys. If you need me, though, shoot me a text."

Hoping that I could at least get an hour workout in, I left them to it and headed toward the gym. Starting a boutique hotel had been my dream, and until recently, it had been working out beautifully. At the entrance of the hall that led to Behind Closed Doors, our spa services, and Vigor, our gym, I stopped and stared at the picture of my husband and me the day we'd opened.

It had been a year since he passed, and I missed him every day. He hadn't had a lot to do with the hotel, since this was supposed to be my baby, but he'd listened while I planned, let me bounce the wackiest ideas off him, and he'd have held my hand while I navigated this latest issue. He'd been my partner, my best friend, and unbeknownst to most, my Daddy. Right now, I really wished my nurturer and caretaker was here to tell me that it would be alright.

Blowing out a breath, I squared my shoulders and headed to the gym lockers. I could do this. I didn't have a choice.