Page 4 of Traitor
The hostess gives me the side-eye, but she acquiesces to my request without comment. I rub my sweaty palms on my thighs when she gestures to a table nearer to the kitchen.
“Thank you,” I say with feeling. The desire to flee abates. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome! Your server will be with you in a few minutes to take your order.”
Once she leaves, I scan the room automatically, noting the exits, the other customers. I catch myself studying them and picking at my nails. With a mental shake, I tuck my hands under my thighs. Elvis croons from an old-fashioned jukebox on the opposite side of the restaurant and chrome accents flash from every direction. Humming along with “Hound Dog,” I study the menu with keen interest.
Around me, waitresses in cute little teal outfits bustle to and from tables, carrying trays filled to the brim with the usual diner fare. Burgers, fries, milkshakes, and sodas abound. Everything looks delicious, but I limit myself to a small Cherry Coke, a small order of fries, and a chicken sandwich when the waitress arrives to take my order.
When she returns, I only have eyes for the plate full of greasy, bad-for-me food. She sets the feast in front of me and I have to clench my hands in my lap to keep from lunging at it. “This looks great. Thank you.”
She places a straw on the table and retrieves the menu. “New in town?”
Ignoring the gnawing hunger in my stomach, I nod. “Brand-new, actually.”
“I thought so. Didn’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Renee. Windy Point native.”
I shake the proffered hand. “Peyton. Nice to meet you. I’m from Mississippi.”
“Oh? Here on vacation?”
I lift a shoulder. “Sort of. My uncle lives over near Camp Lejeune. I was headed that way when I came across your town. I can’t get over the scenery here. It’s like living in a fairy tale.”
Renee leans a hip on the table, content to chat. Hoping she won’t take offense, I nibble on a French fry.
“You’ll have to go see the Windy Point tourist stop in the mountains, then. It’s a spot where the views are spectacular. Words don’t do it justice. I’ve lived here all my life and it still takes my breath away.”
Thinking of the mountaintops I passed, the way the light played over the trees, I say, “I’ll have to do that.”
Someone shouts her name and Renee’s friendly smile turns into a grimace. “I better get back to work. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
Thinking of view and the growing dark, my thoughts turn to where I’m going to stay for the night. “Actually, before you go…”
After suckingdown the Coke and inhaling the fries and chicken sandwich, I hang a left on Old Oak Lane on the northern side of town, near the dark glimmer of the lake I’d passed before. According to Renee, it’s christened Bear Lake. Huddled around its shores are several bed-and-breakfasts, cabin rentals, and hotels. After stuffing myself with more food than normal, the exhaustion from a long day of driving pulls at my eyelids. I count myself lucky that I do a decent job of pulling into a parking spot in front of a swanky hotel that looks like an oversized log cabin. Situated a little ways away from the water, it offers privacy from swimmers but would still afford a grand view in the daylight. Already, my fingers itch to paint it.
Belly full and mind spinning with thoughts of going for a hike the next day to find the perfect location for preliminary sketches, I push through the front doors and step into the hotel lobby. Grand soaring beams frame the two-story high entrance. A fire crackles, directly across from the front door, in an ornate floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. The warmth wafts over me in waves, warding off the lingering spring chill still stubbornly clinging to the air. Renee wasn’t kidding when she said the place is gorgeous. When I asked where she’d recommend I stay for a while, she’d said, “The Bear Lake Lodge is where you need to go. Don’t even look at anywhere else. Ford Collier, the owner? Mmhmm is he something to look at. The place itself is almost as gorgeous as he is. If you want views, that’s where you want to be.”
I don’t know about the gorgeous man, but she’s not wrong about the lodge. It is stunning; almost worth the price tag I’d looked up online before the drive over. I give a little mental shrug as I step up to the check-in desk off to my right. My little nest egg will take a punch, but if this place brings back the urge to paint, it’ll be worth its weight in gold.
The space behind the desk is empty, so I ring the little silver bell on the counter and turn to wait. I can’t get over how cozy and warm the place feels. Thick braided rugs are strategically placed throughout the common areas on the first floor, which features an open-concept floor plan. But the real stunner is the sweeping expanse of windows on either side of the gigantic fireplace. The first thing I’m going to do in the morning is get a mug of coffee from the complimentary bar and sit in the big, fluffy chair in front of those windows. I can’t see out them now because it’s too dark, with only dots of lights from other cabins and the faintest hint of navy-blue water visible, but I know come morning the view will be awe-inspiring.
“Can I help you?” comes a gruff voice at my back. I jump and twirl around at the same time, knocking my elbow on the corner of the countertop and biting back a stream of curses.
I bite my cheek to keep from swallowing my tongue.
Renee wasn’t wrong about the owner either, it seems.