As Lacey listened to her caller, Amanda waited, her heart still hammering from making the request.
“She did what?” Lacey’s voice rose as she stood, sounding astonished by whatever news had just been delivered. “Take her passkey and send her to my office.”
Lacey clicked off the call and remained standing, looking down at Amanda. “When he checked out, Mr. Nicholas reported that Tori broke into his villa at one in the morning. Do you know if that’s true?”
“She used her passkey. I was there.”
Lacey puffed out a breath and fell back into her chair. “I’m letting her go.”
Ding, dong, the witch is dead. Small consolation now.
“But then I have some scheduling problems.”
“I’ll help you,” Amanda said, leaning forward. “I’ll work anytime, any job, anything.”
Lacey’s smile was slow and kind of sad as she shook her head. “You really need to have your own business. I’ll take you up on that offer and give you triple time if you work the reunion I’m having in a week. I’m really short that night, and it will definitely count as overtime, since working the reunion means you’ll miss enjoying it.”
Amanda frowned. “What reunion?”
“Oh, you weren’t here for the last all-staff meeting. I had a great idea for some local marketing. I’m holding a Mimosa High reunion for everyone who ever went to the high school that we can find. It’s going to be all day on the beach. We’ve located lots of former Mimosa Scorpions through the Internet and Facebook.”
“Wow.” A Mimosa High reunion. Could there be anything less appealing?
“And we’re giving everyone a name tag with their senior adjective. Isn’t a reunion an awesome way to spread the word about the resort and get people of all ages together?”
Amanda swallowed her response, because Lacey wouldn’t understand that she’d been Mandy the Magnificent but would now be Mandy the Maid. “Awesome,” she agreed.
“I’m sorry you have to work, but I’m desperate that day.”
And the last thing she’d do was turn down triple time when she’d just groveled to get her job back. The only thing that mattered was accruing the money and sending it to Zeke Nicholas. “It’s fine, as long as you don’t make me wear my senior adjective.”
“What was it?” Lacey asked.
Amanda shook her head. “I forget.” Even though they both knew that no one forgot their senior adjective.
“I’m sorry Zeke isn’t still here to attend,” she said quickly. “Because meeting him really did give me the idea.” She eyed Amanda. “Any chance he’ll be back?”
She remembered the baseball team—had thought about it a lot, as a matter of fact. But he’d find a new location for his minor-league plans. He hadn’t disappeared in the middle of the night only to return to build a baseball stadium. She’d already practiced squashing all hopes of that.
“I really don’t know,” Amanda answered honestly. “He left before I could ask him.” Or tell him how I really felt.
Lacey nodded, pushing back from her desk to end the meeting. Amanda stood right away. “Thank you so much, Lacey.”
The other woman came around her desk and reached both arms out. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, giving Amanda an easy and warm embrace, “Clay and I broke up once, too. But he came back.”
It was, in fact, no consolation at all.
Chapter Thirteen
The giant orange ball dipped over the cobalt waters of the Gulf, moments from melting into an aww-inducing puddle of gold. Barefoot Bay had never looked more glorious for the reunion that spanned class members from almost sixty years. They didn’t have senior adjectives before the 1970s, so the oldest party guests were over sixty and making up the nicknames now, based on memories.
And those tables were definitely having the most fun, Amanda thought as she bussed another set of martini glasses and carried them to the open-air bar. Although, to be fair, Lacey’s idea was a huge success, with two hundred people falling in love with Casa Blanca, many sharing pictures on social media sites that would surely increase the resort’s visibility and bookings.
Everyone was having fun...except Amanda. She was doing what she’d done for the past week. Cleaning up other people’s messes and wallowing in her own. She missed Zeke more every day and here? At the reunion, where he’d be a superstar and she’d be...
No, she wouldn’t be. If she’d ever had a chance with him, she’d blown it by lying and hurting him. Sighing for the sixtieth time that hour, she glanced around, hating the tiny little tickle of hope that played with her heart, imagining he might...
Stop it, you moron! He’s not coming back.
There weren’t that many representatives from the class of 2002 in the crowd, though Amanda had run into a few people she remembered. No one commented on her lowly maid status—at least not to her face. Overall, the atmosphere was too festive, the music too upbeat, and the booze was flowing too freely for anyone to be mean.
“Until now,” Amanda muttered under her breath, squinting across the beach to confirm that, yes, the bitch was back.
Alone and dressed in her usual too-short, too-tight, and too-much, Tori kicked off her shoes and sashayed onto the sand.
“What’s Tori the Tiger doing here?” The question came from behind the bar, making Amanda turn to meet the gaze of another housekeeper, who was also doing double duty working the big event.
“Class of 2002,” Amanda said. “I guess she has as much right as any former Mimosa High student to be here.”
Still, Amanda glanced around for Lacey to see if there was any reaction to the arrival of the former employee. Lacey stood in a large group, her baby—dressed in Mimosa High red-and-white overalls—on her hip. With her husband, Clay, at her side, Lacey was surrounded by friends and guests, reveling in the success of her party and her ever-growing business. She had no need to be concerned about Tori.
So Amanda wouldn’t worry, either. Instead, she finished bussing the glasses and scooped up her empty tray, ready to go look for more to clean up. As she turned, she almost smacked into Tori.
Oh, man. Really? “Excuse me,” she said, trying to sidestep Tori.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Lockhart.” Her smile was tight as she slid her gaze over Amanda’s uniform. “Interesting outfit for the reunion. No designer polka dots anymore? Oh, that’s right. Turns out your sugar daddy wasn’t so sweet after all.”