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“Yeah, her name is Aubrey,” he said. “We spent a lot of time here as kids. When we were little, Aubrey and I used to run wild all through this place.”
“I bet,” I told him. “I can imagine this was like some kind of crazy wonderland for little kids.”
“Especially when it was starting to really show signs of age and there weren’t a lot of guests,” Archie agreed, a wistful look crossing his face. “Are you here for the conference or just unlucky enough to have booked the wrong week for a quiet visit?”
I laughed. “No, I’m part of the problem, I guess. Who knew writers were such a noisy bunch?”
He grinned, the expression arriving in a flash and then disappearing just as quickly. “It’s fine. That’s the whole point of the place. To let people relax and gather. It would have made my uncle happy to see it so full of life.”
We reached an elevator and Archie paused, turning to me. “Anything else you wanted to explore?”
I thought about all the questions I had, but Archie seemed like maybe I’d caught him in the middle of something. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to be interviewed late at night in some unauthorized staff wing. I’d ask the front desk to set up a proper interview the next day, I figured. “No, I should probably get back to my room.”
He nodded and pressed the call button. “What floor?”
“Fourth, but in the other wing.”
We stepped together into the elevator, which arrived just then, surprisingly empty. “Earlier we couldn’t get an elevator, so we took the stairs.”
The doors slid shut and Archie pushed the button for the fourth floor. I glanced at his handsome profile, trying to find the barest hint of something malicious or entitled in the way he held himself. But it wasn’t there. Instead, he was just a guy, a resort owner helping a guest. And of course I knew almost nothing about him, but I had a feeling being near him. It was as if he gave off an air of sadness, of regret. Or was that just something I was assigning him based on what I knew?
The elevator began a smooth descent, but then jolted and I heard myself gasp as adrenaline shot through me. The jolt was followed by a sudden drop and then a loud cranking groan as the elevator stopped.
“Are we...um?” I stared at Archie Kasper, working hard to push down the terror that was still shot gunning through my veins.
“Stuck, yeah. That’s why you couldn’t get an elevator earlier. This one’s been acting up lately. I guess I should have mentioned the possibility before we got in.”
“Yeah, maybe!” It flew from my lips, but the second it was out, I realized I was being rude. The elevator wasn’t his fault. I glanced at him as the fear in me dwindled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He looked over at me and the deep eyes softened. “It’s okay. The elevator is perfectly safe. Just not perfectly reliable. The maintenance guys are on-site tonight, though. Shouldn’t be long. I really thought they’d gotten it fixed.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and jabbed at it. It rang a second later.
He sighed and looked at me with that lopsided smile again. “My sister. I text her, she calls me. Normally it’s annoying, but...” he trailed off, pulling the phone to his ear.
“Aubrey.”
I couldn’t hear Aubrey’s voice, but watched Archie’s face as she spoke and he answered, explaining our situation. What would that be like? I wondered. Getting enough time with my brother to irritate him? For there to be quirky things about him that drove me nuts? Aubrey got her brother back. Mine was gone forever...A moment later, Archie pushed his phone back into his pocket and smiled at me uncertainly.
“This is going to earn you some free drink tickets at least.”
“A bright side, I guess.” I tried to keep my voice light, but I was wondering how long we might be in here.
“I’m really sorry for the time stolen from your night. I guess the elevator guy we had here earlier got called down the hill for some family emergency.”
A tiny spike of fear shot through me. “So that means...?”
He gestured to the floor as if waving me into a chair in a restaurant. “It means my sister is calling one of the other guys. But it could be a little while.” He sank to the floor, leaning against the elevator wall and bending his long legs in front of him. His posture was casual, comfortable, and it relaxed me a little.
I followed suit, sitting across from him and crossing my jean-clad legs in front of me. I was considering broaching the topic of the treasure hunt when he spoke.
“So,” he said, rubbing one hand through the mass of red waves on his head, “what do you write?”
“Mostly travel pieces,” I answered. “But I might write a book. Romance, maybe.” I wasn’t sure why I always had to qualify my writing ambitions, as if telling people I would write a book gave me more validity than freelancing. I was trying to decide how to ask about the hotel, how to use this moment to my advantage, when he spoke again.
“One of our staff said most of these writers are romance authors.”
“Yeah, I think so. My girlfriend is here, and that’s her genre. She’s published like thirty novels.”
His expression shifted, and for a second, he looked surprised, but then he nodded. “Wow, that’s impressive. Your girlfriend is prolific.” The way he said girlfriend made it clear he meant it in a different way than I had.
