Chapter 3
Sydney
The email had arrived just minutes before I went to bed the previous night. From a Ms Tina Lucan, making a booking for Mr Forsyth. He was going to arrive alone, stay indefinitely and they wanted to book all the rooms out. She had already made a huge deposit into my account and all of this had completely taken me by surprise.
The B&B had three guest rooms, and never before had all three been booked together. This was good money and the sound of “indefinitely” sounded good too. The only questions I had were regarding the guest. I couldn’t tell exactly who Mr Forsyth was, and why he planned on staying at Tramore indefinitely. He clearly had a lot of money to spare, but I had the feeling that this wasn’t exactly the usual kind of weekend getaway for him.
I tried to not think much of it. I would find out in due course anyway, since he was supposed to arrive in the morning. I woke up the next day to tidy up the house as best I could on such short notice, and then I started baking a new batch of dinner rolls that I planned on serving that night. It was technically a Bed & Breakfast, but I arranged for all three meals for my guests if they wanted it.
At eleven, when I was least expecting it, I heard the sound of the taxi outside and then a quick knock on the door. I wasn’t prepared, and hadn’t even changed out of the clothes I was baking in and was aware of flour on my face, and a stained apron tied at my hips.
When the knock came through again, I rushed to the door. On the other side, Mickey, the local taxi driver was standing, beaming with two suitcases in his hands.
“We have a new arrival, Ms Turner,” he said to me and walked into the house to place the bags on the floor at the foot of the staircase.
With my hand still on the door, I looked ahead at the man who was now getting out of the taxi. He was looking about him curiously, till his eyes finally landed on me at the door. I wasn’t expecting someone like him to show up. The name, Mr Forsyth, had given me the impression that it was going to be an older person, at least middle aged. The man who was getting out of the taxi, couldn’t have been older than in his late twenties.
I ran a hand through my hair and tried dusting the flour out of my clothes as he walked towards me. I was a little flustered by his expensive looking clothes. I’d seen the rolex on his wrist, the shining leather of his polished Oxford shoes. Even though he was supposedly on a vacation, he had a pair of navy tailored pants on, with a blue checked shirt tucked in. His hair was a creamy chestnut color, smoothly swept up from the front of his forehead in a fashionable sleek hairstyle.
Not only did he dress expensively, but he looked expensive as well. He had the kind of chiseled angular face you might see on the glossy cover photo of a magazine. A man modeling a Calvin Klein suit or something like that. His nose was long and sharp, just like his chin and his dark eyes glittered as he walked towards me.
Only when he was close to me did I realize that I was staring. Mickey had bumped my arm as he walked past back towards his taxi.
“And you must be my hostess. Charmed,” the man said, in a voice that completely took me by surprise. Without making a request, he reached for the hand by my side and pulled it to his lips. He had placed a soft kiss on my hand, and I drew it away immediately as though he had burnt me. Who does that anymore? It seemed like he belonged to a completely different world. I was flustered and slightly embarrassed. I couldn’t believe that somebody’s good looks had thrown me off like this.
“I’m Sydney, I run this place,” I said flatly, and in my head I wondered if that sounded very stupid. He was smiling, and I saw how wide his mouth was. He was also much taller than me and I had to crane my neck to look up at him.
“Hello Sydney, I’m Dane. Dane Forsyth,” he said and without invitation, walked past me and entered the house.
Out of nervousness, I ran my hands through my hair again and whipped around to look at him. He was drinking in all my possessions, studying the house keenly.
“I can show you to your room, Mr Forsyth, you can choose whichever one you want, the lady booked all three for you,” I said and he turned to me abruptly, like I had woken him from a dream.
“I’m sure I’ll have a lot of time to see my room later, and do call me Dane,” he said and pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. I gulped and clasped my hands together in front of me. Every time he looked at me, it seemed like he was closely scrutinizing me for cracks. There was nothing casual about his stare, even though he was constantly smiling.
“Okay, Dane,” I said and stuck my chin out. I wanted to assert some authority here. I didn’t want to come across as a demure, naive, small town girl.
“Now, Sydney. Point me in the direction of the beach and I shall get out of your hair,” he said and I stared at him in surprise. He wanted to go to the beach already? What was the rush?