Maria shook her head, clearing it. Wait a sec— were those real bells?
Lucas tossed the apple core into the trash. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
The bells. Her radio!
Someone was trying to contact her through her communicator. Since it wasn’t any sort of emergency, they didn’t page her directly; instead, they buzzed her, setting off a round of pealing bells that normally caught her attention. Normally. Obviously not when she was worrying about her brother.
She grabbed her radio, curious as to who could be calling. It was usually Lucas. The radio rarely went off when he was there.
“Hello?”
Crackle. “Hey, Maria, that you? It’s Caroline.”
That made sense. On the rare occasion it wasn’t Lucas, it was usually Car
oline. “Caro, hi. How are you, amica?”
“I’m doing well. Listen, we had an outsider come into the inn, looking for a room to rent for a couple of days. He’s got the money, so that’s not the problem. Seems that he’s looking for something a little smaller, a little homier, a little more personal than what we offer. I immediately thought of you and your Ophelia. What do you think? You up for a guest tonight?”
She almost couldn’t believe. It was finally happening. At long last!
“Yes. Yes! Send him over.”
“Sounds good. I’ll give him directions right to you. Thanks, Maria.”
“No, no, no, Caro. Thank you!” With an excited squeal, Maria turned to face Lucas, her radio and her hands clasped to her chest. “Oh my God, can you believe it? I’m finally getting a real guest. An outsider!”
Lucas stiffened, a scowl darkening his handsome features. “No,” he said flatly, sounding more like himself than he had all day. “Not now. Not today.”
“What? No! I need this.”
“You don’t.”
“Come on, Luc!” Maria picked up her gingham kitchen towel and swatted Lucas on the shoulder. “What was the point of going through all the expense, the time, the work to turn this place into my Ophelia if I can’t let anyone stay?”
“Didn’t you tell me that the Farrows spent their anniversary here just last month? And the Walshes before them? You’ve had guests, Maria. Be happy with that.”
“You know I can’t. I’ve been waiting for this for like ever.”
He shook his head. “I just don’t think you’re ready to let strangers stay in the house.”
“Ophelia isn’t a house,” she reminded him. “She’s a bed and breakfast, Luc. And the whole idea behind building her was to let strangers stay. I’m going to let him.”
“You won’t.”
“This is my business. I don’t tell you how to run your office. You don’t get to tell me how to run Ophelia.”
Lucas opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, hesitated, then let his mouth shut with an audible click. He set his jaw in a firm line. “Then I meet this outsider first. If I don’t like him, he goes.”
At that moment, she would have agreed to anything.
Mack Turner wasn’t just an outsider. He was a New Yorker. From Staten Island, to be exact.
And he was. It seemed very important to him to make that distinction.
Even if he hadn’t made sure to announce that within minutes of arriving at Ophelia, she would’ve had to ask where he was from. His harsh, nasally accent was noticeably different from any other voice in Hamlet.
He looked different, too. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was about it him, though. She supposed he was handsome enough. Broad in the shoulders, a muscular build, nice summer tan. He wore his dark brown hair long in the front, short in the back. His eyes were just as dark. He had a small dip in his chin, and a smile showed off perfect teeth. A pair of expensive sunglasses kept his hair out of his face.