Sometimes Moments (25 page)

Reaching into her pocket, Peyton pulled out her phone to check the time and the date. She wasn’t imagining the date. It was the first Monday of the month and just after eight a.m.; Graham was never late. Peyton was never the first on the bench. It was always Graham who was there waiting for her. With a victorious smile, she settled onto the bench and waited.

After almost an hour had passed, Peyton unlocked her phone and brought up Graham’s number. She looked over at the hotel, knowing that she was keeping Jenny, the hotel’s operations manager, waiting. With a deep breath, she called Graham.

“Hi, Graham Scott here. Can’t make it to the phone. Leave your details and I’ll get back to you.”

Peyton hung up and tried again.

And again.

And again.

The fourth time, she placed her phone on her lap and ran her hands over her face. Graham was never one to skip their tradition. Even when he was sick, he still made it.

Don’t be so paranoid, Peyton. It’s not what you think. You’re not losing Graham.

But then again, he’s never missed any of my calls.

She moved her hands from her face and stared out at the lake. The thought of losing Graham killed Peyton inside. She couldn’t lose him. She loved him. She knew she did. That’s why when he gave her the promise ring, she said yes. She looked at the faint tan line on her finger where the ring had once sat.

The screen of her phone lit up and caught her attention. Without a single thought, Peyton quickly answered her phone.

“Graham,” she said, relieved that he had called her back. She had known that he hadn’t forgotten.

“You called,” he said, sounding bothered by her.

Peyton flinched. “It’s the first Monday of the month.”

She heard him sigh before the line went quiet. Her eyes followed the roll of the fog on the lake as she waited for him.

“Honestly, Peyton, I don’t want to look at you let alone talk to you on the phone. I’m hung over.”

No.

Peyton let out a strangled sound. It was a sound she tried to suppress, but it escaped her. Her eyes stung as she held the phone tighter.

“It’s Monday, Graham,” she said, her voice betraying her. It made her appear weak.

She heard him take a sharp breath in. “You told Jay that I’d understand, but I don’t. We’re best friends. You could have just told me. I didn’t have to hear it from Jay. Right now, I’m disappointed in you. Let me be mad at you, Peyton. Just this one time, let me be mad. I’m sorry.” Before he let her respond, Graham hung up.

Peyton slowly removed the phone from against ear and stood up from the bench. She looked at the screen, hoping he’d call her back and say that it was a joke. But he didn’t.

Graham Scott had officially broken tradition.

A
cup was placed in front of Peyton. She stared at it until she looked up to see Jenny frowning at her. Besides her aunt and uncle, Jenny was like a second mother, making sure Peyton never missed meals, always went to school, and always kept focus. While she had completed her bachelor, Jenny Fields had managed the hotel with Aunt Brenda and Uncle John.

“You seem like you need it,” Jenny said, sitting on the seat in front of Peyton’s desk.

Peyton gave her operations manager a tight smile—one that Jenny squinted and shook her head at. Then Jenny pushed back her auburn hair over her shoulders and sighed. Jenny was the same age as Peyton’s mother. Forty-six. But unlike Jenny, Cindy Spencer had only made it to forty-two.

“Thanks,” Peyton said as she moved the folder to the pile and reached over for the cup of coffee. Picking it up, she stared at the light-brown liquid that was inside.

It was Wednesday and she still hadn’t spoken to Graham. He never called. Never texted. But she’d let him be mad at her.

“What’s on your mind, Peyton?” Jenny asked. Her light-blue eyes filled with concern.

“I’m running a hotel. Between new bookings and a new business plan, I’m… I don’t know. Some days, I just think this place would have been better in your hands and not mine,” Peyton confessed.

Jenny’s facial features softened. “This is yours now, Peyton. I know it’s a lot sooner than you or your parents would have liked, but it’s yours. I’m always here to help you,” Jenny assured.

Peyton saddened. Jenny was just like her—staying in Daylesford because of responsibilities and loyalty. And she regretted the fact that she’d held Jenny back. Peyton put her coffee down and pulled the drawer open, taking out a large envelope.

“This is why you have to do this for me,” Peyton said, handing the envelope to Jenny.

“What is it?”

“Orientation papers for the Park Hyatt in the city. I called in a few favours from June; with her uncle being Park Hyatt’s HR manager and my recommendations, she was able to get you the managerial position they had open,” Peyton explained.

The disbelief washed over Jenny’s face as she opened the envelope and took out the papers. Peyton sat and waited. She would be losing a valuable employee, but Jenny’s dreams were more important than the hotel or the town. Only some were able to leave, and Jenny should be one of them. The hotel was losing a great asset, but Peyton didn’t mind.

Jenny stood up and placed the envelope papers on the desk. “I love this hotel, Peyton. It’s no Park Hyatt, but it’s something special. I wish you’d see that. You’re doing well. Your parents would be proud of what you’ve achieved for this place.
I’m
proud of you. Tell June I said thanks and I can’t wait for her new album, but I’m not leaving you or this hotel.”

A knock on the office door had Jenny stepping aside. Peyton stood up to see a man in a pair of cargo pants and dark-blue shirt holding a clipboard.

“I’m looking for Miss Spencer?” he said and smiled at both women.

Peyton walked around the desk towards him. “That’s me. How can I help you?”

He tipped his head at her. “I have the wooden frames and planks for the dance floor. I have the rest of the boys with me to start digging into the dirt and putting them up.”

“Right,” Peyton said with a nod. “How about you get them to start unpacking everything you need and I’ll show you where we’re building it all.”

“Sure thing, Miss Spencer,” he said, tucking the clipboard under his arm.

“It’s Peyton,” she corrected.

“And I’m Nigel. I’ll get the utes unloaded,” he said and walked towards the front door.

Peyton felt relieved. She finally had things under control. Over the past few days, she’d worked on a new business plan that meant incorporating more of the community into the hotel. But that part of the plan would take some time.

“See? You handled that perfectly,” Jenny said from behind her.

Peyton turned around and smiled. “I guess so.”

Jenny stepped forward and looped her arm through Peyton’s. “Let’s go see if we can’t find you a tradie husband.”

Peyton let out a laugh and shook her head. “I’m good.”

“Because Callum’s back in town?”

Peyton tensed next to Jenny. “He’ll be gone soon,” she said.

“And you don’t want him to go?”

“I didn’t want him to leave the first time. But that doesn’t matter. Callum is nothing to me. Shall we go out to the cabins? I’d love to show you my plans for some of them.”

“First, the tradies,” Jenny said, excitement in her voice clear.

“You’re old enough to be their mother!”

Jenny laughed. “And I’m married, too. But we can always look. There’s no harm in looking.”

Looking is the first part to wanting and touching. Looking is the start of the harm.

“Do you want to go to the party tonight?”

Peyton peered up from her Russian revolutions textbook and raised her brow at Graham. He pursed his lips and returned to his methods homework. He didn’t ask for an explanation. Ever since Callum had left, the people in town had started to treat her differently and Peyton hated it. She didn’t want their pity. Besides Graham, Jay Preston had begun to speak to her. He had always been nice to her, but with Callum gone, Jay had given her more of his time. At first, she’d been flattered, but then she’d come to appreciate him.

“Would you like to go, Graham?” she asked, placing the book down on the patio table. It was what they did every day since their moment on the bench—homework at either of their houses.

“I don’t want to force you. We can skip the party. We can either hang out at the farm or here?”

His dimple greeted her, and Peyton refrained from rolling her eyes at the grin he directed her way.

“We can go to the party.”

“What, my farm isn’t nice enough for you?” he sassed.

“I would much rather be at your farm than the back of the boathouse. But I have a feeling you need to be at the party. I’m thinking Krista?” Peyton raised a brow as she stood up from the chair.

Graham’s cheeks turned bright red. “Whatever,” he muttered, embarrassed.

Peyton let out a laugh. “I knew it!”

“You know nothing,” he bit back.

Peyton shook her head and pointed at herself. “I know everything.”

Graham rolled his eyes and returned to his homework.

“I’ll get us drinks before you go home and change,” Peyton said before she walked into the house.

Upon entering the kitchen, she noticed her dad sitting at the dining table. He was wearing a frown as he stared at her. Her father hadn’t been the same since Callum left Daylesford. He seemed guarded, like he was keeping a secret from her. But Peyton knew otherwise. She knew her father was waiting for the breaking point. The moment that she exploded and became reckless.

“I didn’t know you were home, Dad,” Peyton said as she made her way to the fridge.

Her father didn’t reply as she opened the door and took out two cans of Fanta. Once she held them firmly in her hands, Peyton closed the fridge and stared at him.

He pressed his lips tightly before he said, “You and Graham are getting close.”

She froze.

He stood up from the chair and glared at her with a concerned look. “He’s a nice boy, Peyton. But what if Callum comes back? You going to hurt that boy for Callum?”

Peyton shook her head. She was her daddy’s little girl. But she was tired of being babied. She didn’t need anyone’s pity or concern. The way her father’s eyes flashed in pain wasn’t something Peyton liked to see.