a
balding, middle-aged man in a somewhat rumpled dark suit entering the
plant-lined foyer. He was not more than a couple inches taller than her own
five feet four inches, and what remained of his graying hair had once been
midnight black. There was more than a hint of a comfortable paunch beneath the
outline of the suit, and the heaviness was repeated in the man’s face. Dark
eyes studied her from beneath heavy lids, eyes filled with a pleasant,
old-world gallantry. He looked, thought Samantha, like someone’s grandfather.
“Good evening, Mr. Fortune,” the desk clerk said in an
astonishingly deferential tone. “Is Miss Fortune expecting you? I’ll have her
paged immediately.”
The newcomer inclined his head, waving off the clerk’s offer.
“That’s quite all right, Jon. I know where to find her.” Turning back to
Samantha, he repeated his question. “What seems to be the trouble, Miss… ?”
“Maitland. Samantha Maitland,” Samantha said quickly.
“It’s kind of you to offer to help, but I’m afraid this is
between myself and the spa’s management. A slight misunderstanding about
billing procedures,” she explained dryly.
But the desk clerk was not nearly so inhibited about dragging
the innocent bystander into the fray. “Miss Maitland, sir, is one of our
guests. She, uh, wishes to check out ahead of schedule, and as I’m sure your
sister has probably explained, our policy requires a nonrefundable fee.”
“All guests eventually check out, Jon,” Fortune pointed out
very mildly, smiling gently at Samantha. “Does it really matter whether or not
they leave ahead of schedule? Perhaps a slight change in policy could be made
in this instance?”
“Thank you very much for seeing my side of this, Mr. Fortune…”
Samantha began quickly.
“Emil, my dear. Call me Emil.”
“Yes, well, Emil, thank you for your interest in the matter,
but you needn’t get involved. It’s not your problem. I just hope your sister
doesn’t have the same problem when she checks out!” she added darkly.
“My sister owns this place. She makes the policies,” Emil
Fortune explained kindly.
“Oh.” Nonplussed, Samantha stared at him.
“I gather you have not enjoyed your stay here?” Emil Fortune
inquired gravely.
“I am starving to death and sore all over, to be perfectly
blunt.” Samantha could not resist the opportunity of listing her complaints in
front of the desk clerk. “Your sister has built a very impressive business
here, Mr. Fortune—but frankly, it’s beyond me why anyone would pay good money
for this sort of thing!”
“To each his own,” Emil Fortune intoned, but his eyes were
smiling.
“I suppose,” Samantha agreed. “I came to California to
attend to some business, and I thought I would be able to do it while staying
here, but that’s proven to be quite impossible.”
“I see,” Fortune nodded. “Are you certain you wish to leave
tonight, though, Miss Maitland? We’re quite a distance from Santa Barbara and
the nearest motel.”
“I don’t mind driving at night,” she assured him. “I’m
having dinner with my business acquaintance this evening, and I’m sure he’ll be
able to direct me to a good motel.”
“You are doing business with someone nearby?” the middle-aged
man inquired.
“Yes, a Mr. Sinclair. He lives a couple of miles up the
coast, and I’m sure he’s expecting me. I was due at seven.” Damn, she hadn’t
meant to drop Gabriel’s name into this mess. Strange how this unassuming little
man had her chatting quite freely. But it was getting late. “I really must be
on my way. If a refund is impossible this evening,” she added with a severe
look at the clerk, “then you can count on seeing me again in the morning! Perhaps
your manager will see fit to look into the matter.”
“I don’t see why things can’t be settled tonight,” Fortune
murmured softly. “I’m sure my sister would not want a guest of the spa to be
prevented from taking
balding, middle-aged man in a somewhat rumpled dark suit entering the
plant-lined foyer. He was not more than a couple inches taller than her own
five feet four inches, and what remained of his graying hair had once been
midnight black. There was more than a hint of a comfortable paunch beneath the
outline of the suit, and the heaviness was repeated in the man’s face. Dark
eyes studied her from beneath heavy lids, eyes filled with a pleasant,
old-world gallantry. He looked, thought Samantha, like someone’s grandfather.
“Good evening, Mr. Fortune,” the desk clerk said in an
astonishingly deferential tone. “Is Miss Fortune expecting you? I’ll have her
paged immediately.”
The newcomer inclined his head, waving off the clerk’s offer.
“That’s quite all right, Jon. I know where to find her.” Turning back to
Samantha, he repeated his question. “What seems to be the trouble, Miss… ?”
“Maitland. Samantha Maitland,” Samantha said quickly.
“It’s kind of you to offer to help, but I’m afraid this is
between myself and the spa’s management. A slight misunderstanding about
billing procedures,” she explained dryly.
But the desk clerk was not nearly so inhibited about dragging
the innocent bystander into the fray. “Miss Maitland, sir, is one of our
guests. She, uh, wishes to check out ahead of schedule, and as I’m sure your
sister has probably explained, our policy requires a nonrefundable fee.”
“All guests eventually check out, Jon,” Fortune pointed out
very mildly, smiling gently at Samantha. “Does it really matter whether or not
they leave ahead of schedule? Perhaps a slight change in policy could be made
in this instance?”
“Thank you very much for seeing my side of this, Mr. Fortune…”
Samantha began quickly.
“Emil, my dear. Call me Emil.”
“Yes, well, Emil, thank you for your interest in the matter,
but you needn’t get involved. It’s not your problem. I just hope your sister
doesn’t have the same problem when she checks out!” she added darkly.
“My sister owns this place. She makes the policies,” Emil
Fortune explained kindly.
“Oh.” Nonplussed, Samantha stared at him.
“I gather you have not enjoyed your stay here?” Emil Fortune
inquired gravely.
“I am starving to death and sore all over, to be perfectly
blunt.” Samantha could not resist the opportunity of listing her complaints in
front of the desk clerk. “Your sister has built a very impressive business
here, Mr. Fortune—but frankly, it’s beyond me why anyone would pay good money
for this sort of thing!”
“To each his own,” Emil Fortune intoned, but his eyes were
smiling.
“I suppose,” Samantha agreed. “I came to California to
attend to some business, and I thought I would be able to do it while staying
here, but that’s proven to be quite impossible.”
“I see,” Fortune nodded. “Are you certain you wish to leave
tonight, though, Miss Maitland? We’re quite a distance from Santa Barbara and
the nearest motel.”
“I don’t mind driving at night,” she assured him. “I’m
having dinner with my business acquaintance this evening, and I’m sure he’ll be
able to direct me to a good motel.”
“You are doing business with someone nearby?” the middle-aged
man inquired.
“Yes, a Mr. Sinclair. He lives a couple of miles up the
coast, and I’m sure he’s expecting me. I was due at seven.” Damn, she hadn’t
meant to drop Gabriel’s name into this mess. Strange how this unassuming little
man had her chatting quite freely. But it was getting late. “I really must be
on my way. If a refund is impossible this evening,” she added with a severe
look at the clerk, “then you can count on seeing me again in the morning! Perhaps
your manager will see fit to look into the matter.”
“I don’t see why things can’t be settled tonight,” Fortune
murmured softly. “I’m sure my sister would not want a guest of the spa to be
prevented from taking
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