Wolf Bait (Wolf Cove #1) (2 page)

Chapter Two

May

I inhale deeply, reveling in the crisp ocean air as land approaches ahead. Chicago was in the seventies when I left this morning. Two layovers, a flight delay, and fifteen hours later, the fifty-five degree day’s high has dipped to low forties and I had to dig my winter jacket out of my suitcase.

“Have you ever been to Alaska before?” the captain, a soft-spoken white-haired man named John asks, his hands resting easily on the ferry’s wheel.

I shake my head, my gaze drifting over the sea of evergreen and rock as far as the eye can see. We left the dock in Homer thirty minutes ago. It didn’t seem like it would take that long to cross, but Kachemak Bay is vast and wide and unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

And on the other side of it is my home for the next four months.

I’m so glad I remembered to pop an Antivert an hour before boarding. I’d be puking over the rails by now had I not. Boats and I have never coexisted well.

“So, what made you come?” I can tell John likes to talk, as much for conversation as to assess the foreigners coming to his homeland.

“A brochure,” I answer simply, honestly.

He chuckles. “Yeah, it’ll do that, all right. Lures plenty of folk our way.”

I smile, though his words resonate deep inside. It “lured” me. Yes, that’s exactly what it did.

Frankly, the brochure didn’t need to work too hard.

When things take an ugly turn, people are always saying they’re going to pick up and move far away. Australia, France, anywhere that puts an ocean between them and their problems. Most don’t ever act on that. I certainly had no intention of doing so.

And then I went to that job fair in the city library, more than a little panicked about what I was going to do this summer. Recruiters were peddling administrative and counselor positions, trade internships, day care. Nothing I was interested in. Plus, they were all local Chicago-based positions. The last thing I wanted to do was stay in Chicago for the summer. I needed to separate myself from it and its bitter memories, if for only a few months until school started again in the fall.

But the idea of going back to Pennsylvania, where everyone including the cows had heard the nitty-gritty details about my breakup with Jed, was even more unappealing.

That’s what happens when you grow up in a small town and then go away to college with your high school sweetheart, who’s also the reverend’s son, who you were supposed to marry the summer after you both graduate college.

Who you’ve been saving yourself for.

Who you caught with his pants down and thrusting into some raven-haired jezebel.

And, while in the depths of despair, though you know better, you tell your upstanding, churchgoing mama, who is known around town as much for her raspberry pie as for her big mouth.

That scandal sure gave the folks of Greenbank something to talk about during Pennsylvania’s long, cold winter. It’s been months since D-Day, or what I like to call Dick Day, when I caught him. February 2, to be exact.

I’m sure tongues were wagging across pews during church service. When I visited over Easter weekend though, I got nothing but sympathetic nods and pats. Jed, sitting in the pew directly across from us, earned more than a few glowers. Not everyone shared those feelings, though. His father, Reverend Enderbey, decided that giving a sermon on man’s weakness for carnal flesh and the need for forgiveness and understanding would be more appropriate than discussing the resurrection of Christ that day.

Much like Jed promised me, Reverend Enderbey has promised my parents that this is just a momentary blip in Jed’s faith; that he’s feeling confused and needs to sort out his priorities. He’ll come back to me, after he’s done sowing his wild oats.

Why do they all think I’ll want to take him back?

He broke my heart that day, and has continued breaking it daily, every time I see him walking hand in hand around campus with
her
.

He’s not just sowing wild oats. They’re
dating
now.

So when I passed by the Wolf Hotels booth at the job fair a month ago and spotted the pamphlet with a beautiful vista of snow-capped mountains and forest, I immediately stopped and started asking questions, and within ten minutes I knew that Wolf Cove was my ticket away from sadness, temporarily at least. I just needed to get myself to Homer, Alaska. They’d provide transportation to the hotel, subsidized accommodations and meals onsite, and weekly transport to Homer, if needed, and in turn I’d work like a dog and keep my mind occupied.

The best part? It was almost 3,800 miles from everything I know.

It sounded perfect. And unattainable. I walked out of that interview feeling hopeless, assuming that there was no way I’d get the job.

And yet I’m standing here today. I call that divine intervention. God knew I needed this miracle.

It came in the form of a phone call a week after the interview, with an official offer for a position in the Landscaping and Maintenance crew. I screamed. I even shed a few happy tears, which was a nice change from all the sad tears I’ve spilled since February. Knowing that I could avoid Greenbank, Jed, and my family, that I would be leaving my dorm room the day after my last exam and hopping onto a plane... that’s the only reason I’ve held it together this long.

The ferry turns left to run along the coastline, farther into the bay.

“What are those places, over there? Do people live out here?” I point toward the little huts speckling the shore, camouflaged within the trees.

“Nah. They’re mostly lodges and cabin rentals.”

I study the structures, like yurts on stilts overlooking the water. “They’re nice. Rustic.”

“They are, indeed.”

“Not like Wolf Cove, though.”

John chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not quite.”

If the pictures in the pamphlet are at all accurate. My mama’s convinced that it’s all computer generated, that nothing that luxurious would exist up in Alaska. That I’ll end up contracting West Nile from the thick fog of mosquitoes, or I’ll wake up in the rickety shack that I’m sleeping in to find a bear gnawing on my leg.

To say Bernadette Mitchell is unhappy about this Alaska job is an understatement. At first she flat-out told me that I wasn’t allowed to go. I hung up the phone on her that night, the first time I’d ever done that. Probably the first time
anyone’s
ever had the nerve to hang up on a woman like her. I half expected her to drive the nine hours and slap me upside the head.

Two days later, after she’d cooled off, she called and tried to persuade me. I was making a grave mistake, leaving Greenbank and Jed. We’d be away from the chaos of Chicago and the temptations that made Jed stray. We’d have each other, day in and day out, and I could remind him of why we’re so perfect together.

I know it’s not going to be that simple.

So I dug my heels in. I’ve been “good girl Abbi” all my life, sitting next to my parents at church service every Sunday, keeping company with like-minded people, staying away from the “bad kids” who drank and smoked pot and had sex. Always listening to Mama.

Maybe if I’d just spread my legs for Jed, my heart wouldn’t have been smashed into a thousand pieces.

While she’s my mama and I know she wants what’s best for me, she, too, thinks that Jed and I belong together, and that our reunion is inevitable, once he gets “the devil” out of his system. I had to bite my tongue before I pointed out to her that the girl currently sucking Jed’s dick is a significant obstacle in this imminent reconciliation of ours.

I scan the approaching buildings, my excitement triumphing over my exhaustion. “Where is it?”

“Wolf Cove is just around the bend.”

Wolf Cove Hotel in Wolf Cove, Alaska. “How do you go about renaming a cove, anyway?”

John chuckles softly again. He’s such a pleasant man. “The cove has been Wolf Cove for hundreds of years now. The Wolf family has a lot of history up here, with the gold mines. That’s where they made their first fortune. Though I’m sure they could afford to have it renamed, if it came to that. They’re a successful lot. Generous, too.”

Man, to be a part of that family. They must have a lot of money, to risk opening a location like this all the way up here, and set their employees up the way they’re doing for us, and all the benefits. “Hey, thanks for coming back for me. I didn’t want to stay in a motel.” It’s just John and me on the ferry, and a deck full of crates and supplies. He was kind enough to make another trip across the bay and pick me up after my flight delay. Apparently he carted a full load of college-aged employees over hours ago.

“We didn’t want to leave you stranded. ’Specially on the first day. I woulda had to come back for the supplies first thing in the morning, anyway.”

I glance at my watch with dismay. “I’ve missed the orientation session.” It started at seven, almost an hour ago. The skies are deceptively light for this time of evening. “I can’t believe how bright it still is.”

“Wait ’til June.”

“Less than five hours of darkness on the equinox, right?”

He grins. “Someone’s been doin’ her homework.”

“I like to be prepared.” The day I applied for the job, I ran home and researched Alaska late into the night instead of studying for my exams. The further I dug, the more excited I became, and the harder I prayed that I’d get the job.

“Well, I’m sure one of the ladies will be kind enough to fill you in on what you missed. They seemed like a nice group. Polite youngsters like yourself, for the most part anyway.”

At twenty-one, it feels strange to be referred to as a “youngster,” but I guess next to John, who’s got to be pushing seventy, that’s exactly what I am.

The ferry rounds the crop of small islands and turns toward the cove. John points to the massive building ahead. “And there’s Wolf Cove Hotel.”

My eyes widen. “Whoa. The brochure pictures weren’t fake.” And they don’t do this place justice.

John chuckles again. “No, they certainly weren’t.”

I stare at it quietly, mesmerized. The main lodge towers over the water. Even from this distance, I can see that the lodge is grandiose in its design and massive in size. I can’t make out the details to appreciate it yet, but there’s no doubt it’s something to be admired.

“They just made the finishing touches two weeks ago. Been working on it for almost three years, now.”

“Is it still opening on Sunday?” Belinda, the woman who called to formally hire me, said that these first few days would be focused on training and last-minute preparations.

“I’ll be ferrying in the first guests at noon. I’ve been bringin’ employees in by the boatload over the last two days. There are a lot of you. A high staff-to-guest ratio, I heard someone say.”

“How is the Wolf family going to make any money?”

“I’m guessing the twelve-hundred-dollar-a-night price tag will help.”

My mouth drops open. “Who can afford that?” I barely scraped together the eleven hundred I needed for my plane ticket here.

“What’s that famous line from that movie? Oh, shucks. You may be too young to remember. The one with the baseball and all those cornfields. ‘If you build it...’”

I smile. It’s only my dad’s favorite movie.

He winks.

We fall into a comfortable silence as we approach, and I realize that I’ve been rolling my promise ring around my finger unconsciously this entire time. It’s been three months since Jed and I broke up and I haven’t been able to bring myself to remove it. Now, I slip it off, letting the cheap metal rest in the palm of my hand. A part of me—the hurt, angry part—wants to toss it into the water and be done with it. A symbol of my faith in Jed.

But I can’t bring myself to do it just yet. So, I slip the ring into my pocket and try to focus on the months to come.

Chapter Three

The farther into Wolf Cove Hotel I venture, the more enchanted I become.

Standing at the shoreline, the main lodge serves as a centerpiece, an enormous rustic building constructed of thick timbers and stone, but adorned with balconies and chandeliers, and entire walls made of glass, giving it an opulent feel. Crushed granite paths lit with coach lights lead guests past the boat docks and water sports equipment—more kayaks and canoes and paddle boats than I’ve ever seen. On the left side of the lodge are three cabins modeled after the main building, each one set high up on the rocks, shrouded by trees and adorned with balconies overlooking the water. John said those are the penthouse suites.

On the right are gardens to sit and ponder in, and beyond them are signs leading to Wolf Cove’s own hiking trails. Miles of Alaskan wilderness to explore, according to the pamphlet.

I push through a heavy set of glass doors and revel in the warmth and smell of cedar in the grand lobby, offering a young woman who passes by me a nod and a smile. She returns it, zipping up her jacket before heading outside.

I’ve never been one to have a lot of friends. Just a few, really, mainly through church groups and study groups. The problem is they’ve all been “our” friends and now that Jed and I aren’t together, I’m acutely aware of something missing when I see them.

So I’ve isolated myself from them over the past few months, staying in my dorm room, focusing on my studies. Most of them don’t even know that I’m up here.

I’ll make new friends here, I assure myself. Ones who know nothing about me, about my life back home. It’s kind of refreshing, getting to be whoever I want to be. That’s what I told myself this summer would be about. Answering to no one, including Mama. Not concerning myself with what people will think, or what they’ll say, or weighing all my words and thoughts and decisions based on what would be considered appropriate by Jesus, the Reverend Enderbey, and my mama.

I’ve spent far too much time worrying about those things. Look where it has gotten me? Alone, while the guy I’ve loved for years is having, I’m sure, copious amounts of sex.

It’s past nine in the evening now, and a few people mill around. The e-mail sent out last week says that I’m supposed to report to the main lodge check-in upon arrival, so I head toward the expansive and chic rustic desk, made of timber logs. A woman stands behind it, her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her.

Not until I’ve approached do I see her name badge. It’s Belinda, the woman I spoke with on the phone.

I smile. “Hi, Belinda.” My mama taught me to always use a person’s name when you can.

She looks up, her sharp gaze peering out from behind stylish red-framed glasses. I wish I had the guts to buy a pair of glasses like those. “Name, please?”

I remind myself that she probably spoke to hundreds of employees. She’s not going to remember me. “Abbi Mitchell.”

“Oh. Yes.” She does a quick once-over of my bulky coat and what I’m sure is wild hair—wind and braids never play nice—before settling on my face. What is that I see flicker across her expression? Annoyance? Dislike? It vanishes too quickly for me to identify it. “You left me a message about missing the orientation session, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that was me. My flight was delayed.”

“Okay. Give me a minute.” I use my shirt sleeve to clean the mist from my glasses as she pulls my file up, her nails tapping against the keyboard. “Okay, here we go. Abigail Mitchell.”

“It’s Abbi.”

She flashes me a tight smile, such a contradiction to her soft, seductive voice. She’s stunningly beautiful—her makeup flawless, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder in movie-star smooth waves—but she’s dressed inappropriately, in a tight black dress that barely covers her butt, her fingernails blood red and clawlike. My mama would turn her nose up at associating with this woman, and remind me never to dress like this if I want any respect. “Right. Welcome to Wolf Cove, Abbi.”

I grin. “Thank you. It’s beautiful here.”

“Uh huh. So, Abbi, I see here that you were hired for Housekeeping and Guest Services.”

“What?” I blurt. “No. Outdoor,” I correct her.

“Well, it doesn’t say that here. See?” She taps the screen with her nail. All of my information—my home address, social security number, even my picture—is there, as well as a line that, sure enough, reads position applied for “Housekeeping and Guest Services.”

“That’s got to be a mistake. When we spoke on the phone, you confirmed Outdoor.” I can’t spend the summer cleaning toilets. And bed sheets! I’ll go crazy.

She frowns. At least, I think she frowns. Her forehead doesn’t actually wrinkle. “A mistake like that would be a first for us.”

“Well, can you fix it?” I’m mildly panicked now.

“I’ll look into it.” She doesn’t sound at all concerned. “For now, please stand over there so we can take your picture.”

I stifle my groan as I follow her direction and stand in front of a digital camera with a white screen set behind me.

“Smile,” she says as the flash goes off, catching me off guard, taking what I’m sure is a horrible image. “Okay, here’s your orientation package. Training begins tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. in the grand ballroom.” She reaches behind the desk and hands me a canvas tote bag. “Inside you’ll find all kinds of useful things like our employee guidelines handbook, information about the hotel and what our guests will expect of service; a complimentary bottle of bug spray, though the main guest areas are equipped with magnets to deal with them. A pocket-sized flashlight and a can of bear spray.” She must see the flash of panic on my face because she quickly adds, “Don’t worry; you won’t need that within the main gates. The perimeter’s wired with electric fencing. We want our guests to enjoy Alaska’s wildlife through guided tours, not find it waiting for them as they step out the lodge doors.”

I give a nervous laugh. “Okay. Good.” I know the state has plenty of black and brown bears, but I didn’t think I’d have to worry about them here.

“And here.” Her fingers are clicking furiously on her screen again and then, with a jangle of her key chain, she’s unlocking a drawer and handing me an iPad and headset. “There’s an orientation video loaded up on here. It has everything on it that you missed tonight. You can return the iPad to me here, tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“And if you hurry, you can still grab a bite to eat in the staff lodge. Go out these doors,” her hand gestures to the left, “and follow the signs for the village.”

“Great. Is that where I can make calls home?” I sent a quick text from Homer to let my parents know I landed, but my mama will be calling the front desk if I don’t send exact coordinates for where she can find me should she need to.

“Yes. The bandwidth isn’t enough for streaming videos, but you’ll be able to do basic things like send e-mails and messages, check Facebook, that sort of thing.” Belinda pulls the freshly printed card out of the printer and, after swiping it across a machine, sets it on the counter along with a lanyard and two other cards. “You need to wear your employee card at all times. This card is for the cafeteria.” She taps the blue one. “Food is greatly subsidized for staff, and it’s a no-cash system, so you can load money onto it or ask that a portion of your salary be garnered for it.”

“Just like campus.”

“Yup. And this other card gets you into your cabin. You’re in cabin seven. The others are already here.”

“How many others are there?”

“Six per cabin.”

I let that news sink in. I haven’t had a roommate since my first week of freshman year. That was a short-lived disaster. When I phoned my mama to tell her that the girl locked me out so she could smoke pot and have sex with her boyfriend, Mama quickly forked over another two thousand dollars and I snagged one of the last available private rooms. We’re not poor, but my parents like to live frugally.

Either way, neither Mama nor her bank account will fix a problem with a shitty roommate here.

Or five shitty roommates, potentially.

I smile wide, another trick I’ve learned. The worse the situation, the bigger my smile needs to be. My face hurts from all the smiling I’ve done these past few months. “Okay, great. Thank you so much.”

“I’m the hotel manager. You will be reporting in to Paige Warhill for the housekeeping department. But, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” That doesn’t sound genuine.

Slinging my hiker’s backpack over my shoulders, I remind her, “You’ll look into my position, right?”

She’s already typing away on the computer, her eyes on the screen. “Yes. Definitely.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Jed came home today.”

“That’s great.” No matter how hard I try to remove him from my daily—heck, hourly—thoughts, Mama’s always good for reminding me. She was probably watching for his arrival since noon. We can see the Enderbeys’s front porch from our kitchen window.

“Have you talked to him lately?”

“No.” Not for nearly two months. For a while there, we kept in regular contact. That’s what he wanted, to stay close friends. Ever since he started dating her though, we’ve been incommunicado.

“Well, he brought that trollop along with him. Can you believe that? I don’t understand what he sees in her.”

“What?” The word comes out like a hiss, the news a swift kick to my stomach, even all the way up in Alaska. I hadn’t expected it so soon. Jed has officially brought
her
into our world. Into the place of our childhood, where we’d lie in the grass and decide what the clouds were shaped like, where we nursed an abandoned kitten back to health. We’ve lived next to Jed and his family for as long as I can remember. Jed and I used to swing on the tire tied to the oak tree and catch toads in the pond between our properties when we were little.

“But let’s not worry too much. Reverend Enderbey thinks that a few days with his family and her together will prove to him that she doesn’t belong in our lives.”

Our
lives.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will this nauseating churn in my stomach to go away. I don’t want to talk, or think, or cry over Jed anymore. “I’m in cabin seven, if there’s an emergency. I already sent you all the other information. Remember, I won’t be carrying my cell phone around with me. It doesn’t work well here, anyway.”

“I don’t like not being able to get hold of you when I need to, Abigail,” she says in her typical stern voice. There is no other tone with her, even when she’s happy. Right now, I’m guessing she’s sitting at the harvest table in our kitchen, her floral robe stretched over her 370 pound body, enjoying her coffee. The woman drinks coffee late into the night and then complains that she can’t fall asleep.

“I’m going to be fine
.” As long as you stop giving me updates about my ex and his new girlfriend
.

“Are you safe there?”

“Yes. They have security and cameras and, honestly, I don’t think anyone is going to pay twelve hundred dollars a night to commit crimes.”

“Rich people make for immoral people.”

I roll my eyes, but only because she can’t see me. She’d wallop me if she knew. For someone so forgiving of Jed, she sure is judgmental of everyone else.

“Do they have plumbing, at least?”

I gaze around the place and burst out with laughter. It’s a log building with a cafeteria-style dining section on one side and several sectional couches on the other, with a mammoth two-sided stone fireplace situated in the center, the fire burning within giving off considerable heat. Beyond swinging doors in the back, I can hear dishes and cutlery clattering, and the occasional laugh. While there aren’t crystal chandeliers, it’s beyond simply “nice.” “Yes, they have plumbing.”

“Don’t you be laughing at my concern for you,” Mama scolds. “Are they feeding you well?”

I push the pan-seared chicken around on my plate. I’m not sure what the sauce is but it’s delicious, as are the mashed potatoes and string beans. Then again, I’m not picky when it comes to food and I have a healthy appetite. Thank God I also have my father’s high metabolism, otherwise I’d likely be waddling out of here by August. “I’m going to eat better here than all year on campus. I’ve gotta go now. I haven’t even made it to my cabin yet.”

“Are there a lot of people working there?” she asks, ignoring my attempt at a dismissal.

“Yes. Quite a few.” The staff lodge looks like it could accommodate a hundred people. According to the video I just watched, Wolf Cove Hotel—an adults-only getaway—has fifty guest rooms and three penthouse cabins available, so it’s not nearly as big as a typical Wolf hotel. Apparently the one down in LA can accommodate 1,500 guests.

“What kind of people are there? Do any of them look like good Christians?”

“Yeah, they look like Jed.”

“Abigail Margaret Mitchell. Are you gettin’ smart with me?”

I sigh. “It feels like being at school. Everyone’s young.” And attractive, from what I’ve seen so far. I guess that makes sense though. A high-end hotel that’s focused on aesthetics would extend that focus to what their staff looks like, right or wrong. “Mostly female.”

“That’s good.” I hear the relief in her voice. I know what she’s thinking. An all-female staff would be the best way to preserve Abbi’s virtue for marriage. I don’t know how many uncomfortable birds and bees and “wait until you’re married” and “you’ll get pregnant if he touches you” lectures I’ve had from my mama. The only reason she allowed me to go away to school is because it’s a Christian college, Jed was going, and the Reverend’s son can do no wrong in my parents’ eyes.