I don’t like interacting with the visitors. But Mr. Haymore is insisting that we attend to their every need. He gives me a stack of brochures and information packets to carry with me at all times in case someone comes to me with questions. For the rest of the afternoon, the journalists have been given the freedom to explore our many amenities.
He has me running back and forth to every section of the house, from the spa (to make sure we’re well stocked with towels and that the attendants have things under control) to the crafts cottages (to make sure the demonstrations are going well) to the rooftop pool (again, towels). I wish it were safe to sneak out to the tasting room and swipe some more wine, but even I’m not dumb enough to chance it in broad daylight with all these people around. Instead, when I’m up at the pool, I decide to take matters into my own hands. They’ve kept most of the large outdoor entertainment area my family built up here, but they’ve expanded it to include a full bar. Currently, it’s staffed by a clean-cut young man with perfectly styled hair and a white polo.
I lean across the marble counter and give him my Louisa Cunningham smile. “Any chance you can spare a shot for Mr. Haymore’s poor slave?”
He smiles. “Rough day?”
“A little crazy. You know.”
He nods, still smiling. Mr. Haymore’s made sure that every employee here knows exactly how extremely important this week is for Huntington Manor. This is their chance to make a stunning first impression to the people who could make or break this place. No doubt most staff members are feeling the pressure.
The man behind the bar (“Greg,” according to his shiny brass name tag) pours me a shot of tequila without question. I don’t even bother waiting for the lime. I swallow it down and slide the shot glass back to him.
When I turn around, I find that I have an audience. Asher, the reporter who almost recognized me when he checked in, is watching me. When he catches my eye, he raises his beer toward me and beckons me over.
Crap. The last thing I wanted to do was draw any extra attention from this guy. But running away will just make me look suspicious. I’ll just have to tell him I’m very busy.
I take a deep breath and walk over to his table. “Anything I can help you with, sir?”
He laughs. “Please, you don’t have to be so formal. I’m not used to being waited on hand and foot. And frankly, I’m not sure I like it.” His tone is friendly, disarming, but I’m not about to let my guard down.
“Then… did you need me for something?” I ask.
“I just wanted to chat for a minute,” he says cheerfully. “Please, sit down, Ms. …” —His eyes flick down to my name tag— “Ms. Thomas.”
“I wish I could.” I give him another smile. “But I’m afraid I have to—”
“This will only take a minute, I promise.” He’s still grinning, still friendly. I can’t tell if there’s any hint of a threat in his words—his expression hides it too well. I want to run, but that would be the cowardly thing to do.
I take the seat he offers. He has his laptop in front of him, but he slides it out of the way.
“The latest model,” he says, nodding at the computer proudly. “Cost me two whole paychecks. But God, if it isn’t massive. I swear, this thing weighs more than my Border Collie.”
I give a little laugh, even though my heart is racing.
“What did you want to chat about?” I ask. I’d rather get right to the point than drag this out.
He takes a sip of his beer. “Not any one thing in particular. Just wanted to know how you find this place.”
Find this place? My stomach clenches. Is this an underhanded way of asking what Louisa Cunningham thinks of the changes they’ve made to her home?
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I say carefully.
“I just thought that someone in your position might have certain insights.”
Oh, God.
“My position?” I keep my voice light. I’m not going to let him get away with his little games. If he wants confirmation about who I am, he’s going to have to say it outright.
And even then, I’m going to lie, but still. I’m not falling for this guy’s tricks. I know reporters better than that.
I must be doing a halfway decent job of keeping my nerves to myself, though, because Asher’s expression doesn’t change at all.
“Your position,” he repeats, gesturing at my name tag. “As assistant to the General Manager.”
Oh—is that what he meant?
“Of course the people in charge of the show are going to paint the perfect little picture. But the people on the ground floor”—He points to my name tag again—“are the ones with the real story. The ones with the true insight. Know what I mean?”
I get it now—he thinks he can get some dirt from the grunt workers. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or a little disgusted by him right now.
But then it hits me—isn’t this the opportunity I’ve been waiting for? Stealing wine and doodling on brochures is petty stuff. Satisfying, yes, but ultimately not very effective in bringing down a place like this. But planting some seeds about this place, starting a nasty rumor here or there…
Geez, I am evil, aren’t I? I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
“Your identity would be protected, of course,” he says.
My eyes shoot up to him. Is that a threat?
He smiles. “I never reveal my sources, I promise.”
I study his face. He still looks completely relaxed, as if this were just an ordinary request for him. He’s good. I still don’t trust him.
“Tell me,” I say. “What makes you think I have any good dirt for you? What makes you think there’s any good dirt at all?”
He takes another drink of his beer. “There’s always something, Ms. Thomas, especially in a place this size. And especially with a name like Edward Carolson attached. The hardest part is figuring out who to ask.” He smiles again. “Did I guess right, Ms. Thomas?”
I consider my next question carefully. “What sort of information are you looking for?”
His eyes flash—he thinks he’s gained the upper hand.
Slow down there, pretty boy. You don’t know who you’re messing with. At least now I know he’s capable of betraying some emotion. He hasn’t perfected that politician’s mask like Carolson.
“I’m not picky,” he says. “I’m willing to hear anything you have to tell me. Anything you think people should know about Huntington Manor.”