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“Let’s start out back. I’ll show you the deck, the gardens, and the hot tub room.”
Lucy followed her, dying to ask Marie why she seemed to dislike Jamie, but the timing didn’t seem right. Marie guided her to a wooden deck that was raised off the ground about three feet and polished to a glossy shine. It was set up with quaint little bistro tables and fresh flowers and plants. “This is lovely,” Lucy told her.
“My husband, God rest his soul, built this deck. Can you believe it’s thirty years old?”
“No, I really can’t,” Lucy said. “It looks brand new.”
“We like to take care of things around here so they’ll last. We’re not all fortunate enough to be like your fiancé, able to replace things on a whim.”
The woman’s voice was decidedly bitter when she made the last statement.
Lucy couldn’t help it. She just stared at her. She was about to do more—like tell her she obviously didn’t know Jamie very well to say such a thing about him or to hold such a bad opinion of him—but since she didn’t want to get them kicked out when Jamie was supposed to be making a good impression with the townspeople, she held her tongue.
Marie led her to a wooden building that was almost hidden by a large oak tree that had ivy growing up its sides. She opened a door that blended in with the rest of the building to reveal a large, octagon-shaped room with wooden benches surrounding it and an octagon-shaped hot tub in the center. There were hooks on the walls with fluffy towels hanging from them and a door in back that led into a small but really nice sauna room with wooden benches and a big basket of hot rocks in the center.
“This is lovely, too,” Lucy told her. “You have a great place here.”
The older woman looked thrilled that Lucy thought so. “My brother built this sauna with his own hands, a few years after Oliver built the deck.”
“Very talented men,” Lucy said as Marie closed the door. They walked back towards the house. As Marie showed her the inside of the house, she told Lucy she’d lived in Summitville all her life. She had three children and four grandchildren, and several brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews who also lived in the area. Lucy found herself liking the woman, which in turn made her feel disloyal. How could she like someone who disliked Jamie?
She needed to figure out what was going on here.
“That’s all of it,” Marie told her when they made it back to the front desk.
“It’s all so quaint and homey. I love it.”
“I’m glad, honey. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”
“I’m sure I will,” Lucy said. She knew she should turn around and find Jamie, but she couldn’t help herself. Jamie was nice. He was wonderful. Even with the town council’s doubts about the factory, she couldn’t imagine a reason Marie would have treated him so poorly. “Marie, can I ask you something? It’s okay if it’s out of line and you don’t want to answer.”
“Okay,” Marie said, a look of caution on her face.
“Is there a reason you don’t care for my fiancé?”
The woman looked embarrassed and then she said, “I’m sorry. I do owe you an apology for being so rude right in front of you. I’m not usually that way.”
“I got that impression,” Lucy told her. “I’ve only known you for half an hour and in that short time it seemed out of character for you to be so rude to anyone, let alone a customer. That was why I thought I’d ask.”
“I can’t believe he hasn’t told you,” Marie said. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That makes me think even less of him.”
“What hasn’t he told me?” As soon as the question was out of her mouth, she held up her hand. “You know what? Never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t know me. And as much as I like you, I have to say straight out, my loyalty is to Jamie.”
Marie looked like she wanted to argue with her, but ultimately she just sighed. “Well, you obviously love him very much. But if he hasn’t told you about Sierra, I can’t imagine you truly know him. Not in a way that counts.”
Marie’s eyes drifted to a silver frame that held a photo of a beautiful young girl with straight black hair and big brown eyes.
“Is that Sierra?” Lucy asked.
“Yes. She was my niece.”
“Was?”
“She was only eighteen when she died.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lucy told her.
“Thank you. Her death was a tragedy.”
