Kimberly Meter - Playing the Part

She wished she were dead, too.

CHAPTER THREE

LINDY STORMED PAST the reception desk where Celly, the local Crucian woman Pops had hired, arched her thin brow and clucked at Lindy’s angry pace. “You got a bee in yah bonnet, supahstar?” Celly asked, using the nickname she’d given Lindy once she learned she was an aspiring actress. Funny thing was, Lindy wasn’t quite sure if she was being facetious or complimentary.

“You could say that,” Lindy muttered. “Where’s Lora?”

Celly shrugged. “Not that woman’s keepah, you know dat,” she said, adding with a sniff, “she likely eatin’ young children’s souls for breakfast somewhere.”

Lindy would’ve laughed because that was damn funny, but she was too keyed up to appreciate Celly’s wry island humor. She had to talk with Lora before the she-devil in Bungalow 2 had her daddy bellowing to bring the resort down. Maybe if she gave her side of things... Oh hell, why even bother. She’d been harsh, but the kid had needed to hear a few harsh truths. She probably deserved to have her mouth washed out with soap, too. Luckily for Carys, Lindy hadn’t had any on hand.

“Yah got murder in yah eyes, girl,” Celly warned with a chuckle. “Must be good, whatcha got?”

“The spoiled monster in Bungalow 2... Lora told me to apologize for having the audacity to call the kid out for flushing two tons of sand down the toilet but I didn’t quite manage the apology part.”

“No?”

“Not quite. I probably made it worse,” Lindy admitted with a private grimace. “But in my defense, I told Lora I wasn’t in the mood to play nice with that little brat and so it’s really sort of Lora’s fault for making me do something I knew wasn’t going to go well. She never listens.”

“None of yah do,” Celly said, chuckling. “Yah all de same. Stubborn, de lot of yah.”

“Oh, really? And suddenly you’re an expert on the Bells?” Lindy quipped wryly. “You’ve worked here for all of a year or so?”

“Dat mouth de same as de rest.” Celly tapped her dark head. “Hard as sea coral and just as rigid.”

Yeah, well, maybe. But she didn’t have time to argue the finer points with Celly so she let it go. “If you see my sister can you please tell her I need to talk to her?”

“Yah,” Celly said, though Lindy wasn’t quite sure if Celly was just saying what Lindy wanted to hear or if she’d truly give Lora the message. Lora and Celly didn’t get along. Under normal circumstances, anyone who bumped heads with Lora was an automatic friend to Lindy but Celly was different. She wasn’t all that friendly and she rarely did what anyone told her to do unless it aligned with what Celly had already planned for herself. Lora had tried to talk Pops into letting Celly go but the man had stubbornly refused. Plain and simple, he liked the ornery woman. So she remained. The only one who didn’t seem to rub her wrong was Lilah, but honestly, her twin had the disposition of a wet sea sponge—as in she gave absolutely no resistance to pressure; she simply caved. So of course Celly would have no problem with Lilah.

It was one of Lilah’s most aggravating qualities to be honest but Lindy would never say that to Lilah because, well, everyone protected Lilah. It was their thing.

Lindy exited the lobby and ran smack into the very person she didn’t want to face just yet—Gabe Weston.

She opened her mouth to defend herself but he blew past her, wearing an anxious expression. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach and she hurried after him against her better judgment. “What’s wrong?” Lindy asked.

He barely acknowledged her, but answered tersely. “Carys is missing. She wasn’t in her room and she wasn’t down at the beach.”

“I’m sure she’s just hiding out,” Lindy said, swallowing a really big lump of something that tasted like apprehension. Had she caused this kid to do something stupid like run away? The island was a safe place, mostly, but it certainly wasn’t smart for a kid to go wandering around by herself. “I’ll help you look.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said, cutting her a short look.

“I know the island and two sets of eyes are better than one, right?” she said, trying to appeal to his logic, but she saw an arctic storm blowing behind his eyes. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. “How long has she been gone?”

He made an agitated gesture that spoke of private guilt as he admitted, “I don’t know, exactly. We were having a discussion and then she got really upset and ran out the door.”

“Did she say what had upset her?” Lindy asked, though she could guess.

“Actually—” he stopped to pin Lindy with a sharp stare “—she said you called her the b-word.”

Lindy gaped. “The what?”

“The b-word, which I can only assume is bitch. Is that true?”

“No,” Lindy answered truthfully. “I hate to break it to you but your little angel lied to you. I called her a brat but I’d never call a little kid that other word, no matter how much they deserved it.”

Gabe processed her answer and slowly came to his own conclusion. “I was afraid of that.” He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I’ve been having some...issues with Carys.”

“I can only imagine,” Lindy said wryly. “But we’ll find her, don’t worry. There are only so many places she can hide on this island.”

“I thought she probably needed a little cooldown and went to the beach but after about thirty minutes I went to find her. She wasn’t anywhere.”

She could hear the guilt in his voice and felt bad for him. She wasn’t a mom and didn’t know what it entailed but she knew for certain, she wasn’t interested in the job description from what she knew so far. “Okay, so she’s either gone to Hawksnest Beach or she went to town. My vote is for town. I’m guessing she has cash or a credit card?”

He looked discomfited, as if Lindy’s assumption only solidified her opinion that Carys was a spoiled rich kid, but he nodded nonetheless. “For emergencies,” he clarified, as if that made a difference. In Los Angeles, a rich kid’s emergency could mean there was a new pair of Jimmy Choo ballet slippers at Nordstrom. Lindy supposed rich kids were the same no matter the zip code.

“Well, that’s good. If she has cash, she’s probably blowing off some steam in the shops. I mean, isn’t shopping its own brand of therapy?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t particularly like to shop. That was my wife’s department,” he answered grimly.

Wife...likely a divorcé and he ended up picking the short straw with the kid this vacation. “So where’s the missus right now?”

“She passed away a year ago.”

Ouch. She bit her lip and the pink of shame heated her cheeks. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she said and actually meant it. She knew how it felt to lose a mother. With a pinch of conscience she grudgingly saw Carys in a different light. Maybe the kid was hurting and lashing out because she missed her mom and buttoned-up dad wasn’t cutting it in the emotional healing department. She skewed her gaze at Gabe and another apology hovered on her tongue. He started to veer toward the parking lot where his rented luxury car waited and she tugged at his magnolia-

covered shirt, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon, I’ll drive. I know my way around and some of these roadways are tricky.”

He seemed poised to argue but thought better of it and followed her to the Jeep. They hopped in and after Lindy fished around under the seat for the spare key, they were rumbling out of the parking lot.

“Do you always keep the spare in the vehicle?” he asked, clearly a bit incredulous. “I mean, anyone could just take off with your vehicle.”