Donner Let Her Go (Holliday Islands Resort Book 7) Page 2

  “Anna!” Nell opened the brochure, then closed it again. “This thing doesn’t tell you much. Hold on.” She leaned over and picked up her laptop from the other end of the table, then punched a few keys. “Look at this.”

  Anna’s eyebrows raised as she checked out the website. The resort was built on a series of islands just off the southern coast of Alaska, and guests could take helicopters or boats from island to island for the whole experience. She saw pictures of horses and skiing and clothes shopping and fancy restaurants—she kept blinking because she couldn’t take it all in. This was definitely a destination honeymoon resort or vacation spot for people with more money than Anna could even dream of having.

  “Cyrus only talked about book shopping,” she said again. “This can’t be the same place.”

  “Yes, it is.” Nell showed her the website address on the brochure. “Same place.”

  Anna sat back in her chair, dumbfounded. “I guess I was just expecting a really nice bookstore,” she said at last, realizing how ridiculous she sounded. “I can’t . . . I mean, I’m not special enough for that kind of place.”

  “If you want to discuss your self-worth and all that, yes, you’re special enough,” Nell said, her tone dry. “If you mean, you’re not rich enough, yeah, you’re right. This place is for the elite, the upper class, the people who only wear designer labels and talk about their clothes by name.” She put on an affected air. “Yes, I’ll wear the Armani tonight. The Wang will be tomorrow, and don’t forget again!”

  Anna laughed, but her stomach was clenching. She’d have to dress up just to go to the bookstore on this island. There would be no wandering the aisles in her yoga pants—not at this place.

  “I don’t know what to do. I might not even have an outfit I could wear on the plane, let alone to the actual resort.”

  Nell studied her critically. “Yeah, your librarian-slash-carefree-vintage look isn’t going to work for this, I’m afraid. I don’t have a ton, but I can lend you some outfits—at least enough to get you by for a few days.”

  Anna exhaled with relief. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “And that, my dear, is why you need me so very desperately. How long do I have to work my fashion magic? When do you leave?”

  “My flight’s at eight tomorrow night.”

  Nell looked at her with disbelief. “Tomorrow night? Honey, I know I’m good, but I’m not the actual fairy godmother.”

  “But you can still pull something together, right?”

  “I’ll do my best, but I’m going to need more calories.” She picked up her burger and took a big bite. “Magic needs fuel,” she said with her mouth full.

  Chapter Two

  Don Holliday rolled over in bed and reached for his cell phone, but the nightstand wasn’t where he expected it to be, and his arm flopped around like a beached whale a few times before he finally located it. He shut off the alarm, then stared into the darkness, trying to orient himself. Where was he again? Oh, that’s right. He was in his new penthouse on Donner Island, not his condo on Puget Sound.

  When his father had called him and told him he was expected to come back to Alaska, Don had been in the middle of writing a novel—the one he was sure would sell. The first three had just been for practice—that’s what he told himself when sales were dismal. But there was something about this one that ignited his soul and made his fingers fly over the keyboard like they never had before. Hearing that he needed to pack everything up and come back to the Holliday Islands Resort had been like having a bucket of freezing cold water dumped on his head.

  Of course he could still write—he could write anywhere. But coming home didn’t just mean moving—it meant taking over a portion of the family business, and that was the part that concerned him. He couldn’t successfully run an entire island at his father’s swanky resort and write a bestselling novel at the same time—they both required his full attention, and considering that he actually didn’t want to run the island overly much, he knew this wasn’t going to go well.

  He sighed. He could grumble about it until his eyeballs bled, but the fact was, if he didn’t get on board with his father’s plan, he’d lose out on his inheritance. It was cut and dried, black and white, no bones about it. So he’d packed up, listed his condo with a real estate agent, and flown home to Holliday Islands, taking up residence in the penthouse suite at the top of the nicest hotel on Donner Island—the one that shared his name. Convenient, that.

  He sat up and tossed his blankets to the side, then walked over to the window and pushed the button that slid the blinds back. The view from up here was incredible, and he’d likely never tire of looking at it. Prince William Sound stretched out in the distance, reminding him of his home on Puget Sound—he’d always choose to live near water. Down below, the street was still quiet, but it was early yet. In an hour or so, the shops would open, and the guests of the resort would be invited to peruse to their hearts’ content.

  And all of it was his responsibility now.

  He crossed the plush carpet and stepped onto the heated tile floor of the bathroom, then adjusted the taps for the perfect shower. He wasn’t a businessman like his father—Gordon Holliday had a way of creating wealth just by wiggling his little pinkie, and Don was scared that he was going to ruin everything his father had built. Why was he being given this task? Yes, he enjoyed shopping and he enjoyed the finer things in life—he could certainly enter one of the island’s stores and feel right at home surrounded by the luxurious merchandise. But to be the boss? That was another thing entirely.

  He stayed in the shower until his fingers were prunes, then dried off with a towel from the heated rack. As he was dressing, he tried to remember the name of the penthouse’s virtual assistant. It wasn’t Alexa, and it wasn’t Siri . . .

  “Betty?” he said at last. It was something like that.

  “Good morning, Mr. Holliday!” she replied cheerfully. “The current temperature is thirty-eight degrees, and room service will be delivering your breakfast in twenty-two minutes. Would you like to hear your horoscope?”

  “No,” he replied. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

  “Your schedule for today is as follows—I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Holliday, but you have an incoming phone call. Shall I put it on speaker?”

  “Yes.” A phone call? It was a quarter to eight—who was calling him this early?

  A feminine voice—not Betty’s—filled the air. “Mr. Holliday? This is Evelyn Reese. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

  Don bit back a retort. It wasn’t even officially morning yet, as far as he was concerned. He’d still be in bed if he had any choice in the matter. “Not at all. How can I help you?”

  Her cheerful tone pierced through his eardrum and made him wince. “Well, as you know, I’m at the resort to evaluate it for a potential investment opportunity, and I’m spending time here, there, and everywhere to get a feel for the place. I thought this would be the perfect day to begin my evaluation of Donner Island.”

  “Sure, sure, not a problem. Whatever you need.”

  “Great. I thought I’d spend the morning in the shops and then you and I could meet up for lunch. I noticed that you have a fantastic teashop in conjunction with your bookstore.”

  “Lunch?” Don rubbed his face. “Mrs. Reese, I have to be honest. I’m not sure I’ll be much help—I’ve only been back a short time, and I haven’t even dipped my toe in the water yet, so to speak. I’m meeting with the store owners later today, and it’s the first time they’ve ever laid eyes on me. How much help can I be to you when I don’t know anything?”

  She laughed. “I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Holliday. I’m not asking you to quote facts and figures—I just want the chance to put your name with your face. Your lack of knowledge won’t influence my decision about the investment, either—I know you’ve only just gotten back home. Your father explained all that to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear
it, Mrs. Reese. I intend to run this place to the best of my ability, but that likely won’t be today. Or even tomorrow. Give me a solid week, though, and I’ll have it down cold.”

  She laughed again. “I can tell already that we’ll get along just fine, Mr. Holliday. So, what do you say? The teashop at noon?”

  So many other things he’d rather be doing . . .“That sounds great.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

  She hung up, and Don shook his head. Nothing like being tossed into the frying pan on his first official day.

  “Betty, resume my schedule, please.”

  “Of course, Mr. Holliday. Your schedule for today is as follows—Brunch meeting with Mr. Forbes at ten thirty. Meeting with store owners at two o’clock. Dinner appointment with Mara Holliday at six thirty. This concludes your schedule for today.”

  Don grimaced. He didn’t want to have dinner with his mother, but he really couldn’t put it off any longer. If she’d gotten her way, he would have headed straight to her place as soon as he got off the plane.

  “Remind me—who is Mr. Forbes?”

  “Garrett Forbes, formerly of Los Angeles, California, age forty-five, is the head of security on Donner Island. His hobbies include—”

  “Never mind all that. Is this meeting important or routine?”

  “I see nothing in the notes to indicate an emergency.”

  Good. “Cancel the brunch meeting with Mr. Forbes and reschedule for tomorrow at ten, please.”

  “Done. I’m sending Mr. Forbes a text to inform him of the change.”

  “Add lunch at noon with Mrs. Reese in its place. Thank you.”

  Betty was an artificial intelligence and didn’t require the social conventions of “please” and “thank you,” but it was easy to forget that.

  Don checked his Rolex. It was early yet. He’d eat breakfast, and then he’d see if he could fix the mess chapter ten had become over the weekend. Who knew when he might get another opportunity to write.

  Evelyn Reese smiled as Don approached her table. “There you are,” she said warmly. “I wondered if I’d misunderstood the time.”

  He gave a sheepish grin, taking the seat across from her. “I have no excuse at all for being late. Time just got away from me this morning.” He’d been so immersed in his chapter that he’d even managed to block out Betty’s voice telling him it was time to leave.

  “I was almost late myself,” she admitted. “When I said I was going to spend this morning in the shops, I didn’t realize just how fascinating each of them are. I’m going to need a few hours in each just to see everything, aren’t I?”

  “At least,” he replied with a chuckle. “Donner Island is a shopper’s paradise, Mrs. Reese. My father spared no expense or effort when it comes to fulfilling your every expectation.”

  “I can see that.” She folded her arms on the table and looked at him curiously. “So, tell me about yourself and what you plan to bring to this particular island.”

  Don glanced up as the waitress approached with a fresh pot of tea. He and Mrs. Reese each ordered a salad and sandwich, and then he returned to answering the question. “To be honest, that’s the question I’ve been asking myself ever since I got my father’s call to come home. He’s the entrepreneur, the mogul—I’m a writer. I don’t know much about taking over empires and spinning gold from straw.”

  “You’re a writer?”

  “Yes, I am. Well, trying to be, at least.”

  “Anything published?”

  “Just a little—nothing you’ve heard of, and it’s under a pen name because I didn’t want to embarrass my family if I was a horrible flop. The book I’m working on now should do rather well—I say that with my fingers crossed, of course.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure you’re not a flop, Mr. Holliday. So, you write—business isn’t your thing? How do you think you’ll get along managing Donner Island?”

  Don took a sip of his tea while he contemplated his answer. She’d said on the phone that meeting with him wouldn’t change her mind about the investment, but he still didn’t want to say anything completely ridiculous. “I plan to learn as quickly as I can,” he said at last, setting his cup back on the saucer. “I’m going to ask questions and take notes, and hopefully, I’ll be humble enough to be taught by those who know more than me.”

  She sat back and beamed at him. “Oh, I like you, Mr. Holliday. I like you a lot.”

  “Please, call me Don,” he interjected. He wasn’t used to being praised so effusively.

  She grinned. “Yes, you’re Donner, aren’t you?” She added a sugar cube to her cup and stirred. “So, Donner Holliday, what are your dreams for this island? Separate from your father’s.”

  He hadn’t had time for any dreams as of yet. He’d barely even unpacked his suitcase. Still, he supposed he could conjure up some kind of answer. “As a child, my favorite part of Christmas was the shopping. My brothers were busy with sports and other things, but I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be but helping choose out the perfect gifts. I’m looking forward to the chance to continue that here.” He chuckled. “If I weren’t a writer, maybe I would have become a personal shopper. I love seeing people’s eyes light up when they find just what they wanted.”

  “You say you’re not a businessman, but it sounds to me like you’ve got exactly the skills you need,” Mrs. Reese replied. She sat back and allowed the waitress to put her meal in front of her, then said, “And what about your love life?”

  Don blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  She laughed. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m naturally curious, and I often blurt out my questions without thinking about them. It’s just that you’ve mentioned writing and now we’re talking about this new undertaking with your father’s resort, but you haven’t said anything about a girlfriend or potential girlfriend . . .”

  As a very wealthy bachelor, he was used to all sorts of speculation about his relationships. He and his brothers had certainly been introduced to a large number of young women eager to become the next Mrs. Holliday, but for some reason, none of them had ever stuck. “I don’t know what it is, Mrs. Reese, but I’ve never connected with someone in that way,” he said. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s even in the cards for me.”

  “What sort of someone are you looking for?” she asked. She had a little glint in her eye, and Don had to smile. She had that overly interested look about her, like maybe she had a niece or a daughter or a cousin to set him up with. It was a look he knew well.

  “Someone who loves to read and doesn’t mind that I spend most of my free time with my nose in a book,” he replied. “Someone who likes to have discussions instead of arguments, but will hold her own and bring all her information to the table. And I think that most of all, I want a friend. Of course I want chemistry and fireworks too, but I want to feel at home, at peace when I’m with her.”

  He didn’t mean to sound so wistful, but there it was, and Mrs. Reese’s eyes immediately watered. He knew that look too—the compassionate look, the one that was almost always followed by, “Well, I know just the girl who can solve all your problems.” That’s not what she said, though. Instead, she took a bite of her food, giving him a moment of space, which he appreciated.

  “I think you’re going to step into your father’s footsteps beautifully,” she said at last. “You’ve got just the right combination of fire and sensitivity to take something like this and run with it.”

  “I’m glad you have confidence in me, Mrs. Reese. I’ll do my best to live up to it.”

  They finished their meal with a little random chitchat here and there, and then she excused herself to keep exploring. He stood as she left and watched her go, wondering what she’d thought of him and if he’d managed to make a good impression. She’d said she liked him, but for the kind of money she was thinking of investing, she’d need to like him—and the whole family—a lot to want to work with them. He hoped his brothers were passing muster as well.


  Chapter Three

  Anna stepped into her hotel room and immediately sought out the nearest chair. She needed a minute to process everything she’d seen over the course of the last couple of hours. Sure, she knew this resort was luxurious and that it catered to the very richest of the rich, but even with her fantastic imagination, she hadn’t dreamed this.

  She was staying on Donner Island, so she’d taken a commercial flight to southern Alaska and then a chopper out to the island itself. When she’d learned she’d be taking a chopper, she’d been thinking about a traffic helicopter, something small and cramped and probably smelly, but no. It was like a little mansion with a propeller on top. The seats were leather, the trim was wood, she was offered a drink as she took her seat—no one really lived like this, did they?

  When she got off the helicopter, she and the five other guests who had come on the same flight were whisked by limousine to their hotel, which was a towering edifice of mirrors and chrome, and bellhops escorted each of them to their suites. The whole process was so streamlined and so choreographed, she almost expected music to start playing and everyone to dance like they’d stepped into a Broadway musical.

  “Ms. Holmes?” Her bellhop stood next to the now-empty luggage cart. “Would you like me to unpack for you?”

  “Unpack for me? Oh, definitely not.” She’d be too embarrassed for this fresh-faced boy to see her ratty pajamas. “I’ll take care of it myself,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound too snappish. She had just been caught off guard by the offer.

  “I’ve placed your suitcases just inside the closet where you can reach them easily,” he said. “May I ask what you’d like for breakfast? You’ll find the menu next to you on the side table.”

  “I . . . I’ll have the waffles and eggs platter, please.” There were no prices listed—she had no idea how much she was setting Cyrus back. She supposed that was the point, but she had intended not to run up a huge bill—at least, as much as she could help it.