Judith Arnold - Right Place, Wrong Time

She extended her arms to her niece, who obviously considered Gina the safest person in the room. The little girl ran into her aunt’s embrace, sniffling and whimpering. “I don’t want to leave,” she sobbed into Gina’s stomach. She had on a garish orange swimsuit, her hair was pulled into a lopsided ponytail and small gold dots adorned her ears. Gina Morante hugged her tightly.

How could the Hamiltons evict these women? Where would they go? Would Ross put them out in the street? Would Delia exile them to the airport?

“They can’t stay here,” Ross remarked, as if he felt Ethan needed a reminder.

“We can’t just kick them out,” Ethan retorted.

“Ethan.” Kim’s voice was like a stiletto, searching for the tenderest part of his headache and impaling it. “They can’t stay.”

“Excuse me,” Gina said to Kim, her voice more of a broadsword than a stiletto, whacking rather than stabbing. “This isn’t for you to decide, honey. Alicia and I have every right to be here. Just because there are four of you and two of us doesn’t mean you get to vote us off the island. We’re here because your buddy Paul failed to communicate his intentions to my friend Carole. This situation is his fault, not mine and not Alicia’s.”

If Kim were a cat, she’d be arching her back and hissing. She was a woman, though, so she only crackled with electrifying anger, her upper lip twitching and her eyes narrowing on Gina. “Your friend Carole is obviously a complete imbecile. I’m sorry you don’t have smarter friends, honey, but that’s your choice. We’re staying here this week. So get your things and clear out.”

Ethan shook his head. He could tell just by looking at Gina Morante that she wasn’t the sort of woman anyone could issue orders to. She pulled herself to her full height—a good three inches taller than Kim—and flexed her shoulders, which appeared inordinately powerful beneath the narrow straps of her skimpy tank top. Her eyes might be dark, but they flashed like lightning. “We’re staying,” she declared, her arms closing more tightly around her weeping niece.

“Okay.” Ethan rubbed his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to massage his headache away. He glanced toward Kim, and was met with an indignant glower. Turning back to Gina, he saw steely resolve. “Either Paul or Carole screwed up. Or it was a joint screwup and they’re equally to blame. It doesn’t matter. We’re going to have to come up with a compromise. It’s off-season, right? There must be an available hotel room in the vicinity.” He gave Gina a hopeful smile.

“You want us to move to a hotel room?”

“That would make the most sense.”

“And we’re supposed to pay for this hotel room how?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it. He had no idea what her financial circumstances were, but he supposed that even off-season, a week in a resort comparable to Palm Point was going to cost upward of a thousand dollars.

“I’ll pay for the damn hotel room,” Ross Hamilton interjected. “Find one and move out, for God’s sake. I’ll pay the damn bill.”

“He’s saying bad words,” the little girl murmured between sobs.

“I don’t want to move to a hotel,” Gina argued. “I want to stay here. It’s got a kitchen. We’re entitled to stay here. This is Carole’s week.”

“Carole is an idiot,” Kim snapped.

Gina glared at Kim. “Carole is a better person than you’ll ever be. She’s a pediatrician. She saves children’s lives. How many children’s lives have you saved lately?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Kim retorted. “I don’t care how many children’s lives she saved. She’s an idiot!”

“Enough.” Ethan held up both hands like a cop halting traffic in all directions. He waited for both women to subside. Kim simmered. Gina remained just as she was, posture straight, head high, dark eyes shooting lightning bolts in Kim’s direction. “Mr. Hamilton has generously agreed to cover the cost of a hotel. Ms. Morante, this is an extraordinary gesture. You really ought to—”

“He wants to pay for a hotel room? Great. Let him pay for it and stay there himself. I don’t want to stay in a hotel. I want to stay here, where I can fix Alicia meals. I like the location. I like the setup. We’re already unpacked here. We’re not leaving.” She sent a frosty smile Ross’s way. “Thanks for offering, though.”

“Your friend made a mistake,” Ethan tried.

She turned back to him, and he nearly staggered under the force of her gaze. “My friend or yours. Or they both did equally, like you said.”

He sighed. She was right. He could phone Paul, but even if Paul swore he’d made his plans for the condo clear to her friend Carole, it would only be a case of he-said-she-said. Without concrete proof, he couldn’t assign the blame to one friend or the other.

“Why don’t we stay at a hotel?” Delia Hamilton suddenly spoke up. “Isn’t there a Ritz-Carlton here on the island? Or something of that quality? Frankly, Ross, having to make my own bed isn’t my idea of a vacation. If we go to the hotel, we’ll have maid service, room service, all the amenities.”

“You want all four of us to go to a hotel?” Ross frowned, his chiseled face contracting into a maze of creases. “I offered to pay for one room, not three. We could do it in two rooms, I suppose, if you and Kimberly share one room and Ethan and I…” He glared at Ethan and shuddered.

Trust me, Ethan wanted to say, the feeling’s mutual.

“How about just you and me?” Delia suggested. “We passed several hotels not far from here. If one of them is nice enough and has a room, we could stay there. We’d be near the children. Kim could have the main bedroom here, Ethan was planning to stay on the sofa anyway and those two—” she waved disdainfully at Gina and her niece “—can have the other bedroom.”

“You’d want our Kimberly sharing an apartment with a total stranger?” Ross seemed horrified.

“Ethan will be here to protect her. And this woman says she’s not leaving.”

Ethan eyed Delia with newfound respect. Maybe she was a shopaholic. Maybe she was a frivolous club lady. But she’d come up with the solution Ethan had been contemplating but hadn’t dared to voice. If he’d suggested it, Ross and Kim would have jumped down his throat. Delia they had to listen to, because she was their wife and mother.

“The woman should leave,” Ross growled.

“The woman has a name,” Gina reminded him. “And the woman has as much right to stay here as you do. But hey, your wife wants a hotel room. This ain’t the Ritz.”

Ethan shot her a look and saw a hint of a grin tracing her lips. He struggled not to grin back.

“Actually,” Kim interjected, giving Gina a smile as authentic as a cubic zirconium solitaire, “I think Ethan and I could share this place with Ms. Morante and her daughter. Her niece, I mean.” Her smile grew even brighter, expanding from one carat to two. “Dad, you and Mom could have a little privacy. If you’re paying for the hotel anyway, you may as well get all the benefits of staying there. Why don’t we see if we can get you a nice room at one of the hotels we passed?”

“Or you know, there might even be another empty unit here at Palm Point,” Ethan said. “I’m sure there’s a manager. We could see if anything’s available here.”

“Nonsense.” Delia clearly had her heart set on maid service. And Kim, Ethan could guess, had her heart set on getting her parents out of the condo so she and Ethan could sleep together. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; cohabiting in the condo with Gina Morante and a melodramatic young girl might prove inhibiting. He had little experience with children. He couldn’t even guess how old this Ali the Alley-Cat was. But he doubted he’d feel comfortable making love with Kim when there was a chance the kid might barge in on them.