Chapter 8; Now - Something Happens In The Water

September 16, 2024

After leaving Adam with Adina—promising him I’d see him for lunch—I head back to my room to get ready for the day. Along the way, I pass several workers, their aprons stained with evidence of a morning's labor and their awkward but warm smiles suggesting they don't speak much English but are happy to see me nonetheless. Their presence adds a comforting rhythm to the inn, like background music you didn't know you needed.

Once inside my room, I shed my clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me, washing away the remnants of last night's stress and this morning's anxiety. Steam fills the small bathroom, fogging up the glass and creating a cocoon of warmth around me. As I lather up, I can't help but wonder what my first real day will entail—checking guests out, welcoming new arrivals, perhaps overseeing the staff as they erase traces of past visitors from sheets and rooms. The thought is both daunting and exhilarating.

Exiting the shower, I towel off and move toward the small table that doubles as a desk beside my bed. My few belongings are neatly arranged in metal trays that seem designed for watches and rings—luxuries I've never owned. It's then that I notice a red envelope sitting conspicuously on the tabletop, something I must have missed earlier in my frantic search for Adam. My name is scrawled across it in elegant cursive:

Daniel.

I slide my finger under the flap and pull out a handwritten letter. The neat, flowing script is unmistakably Luz's.

Hello Daniel,

I had to take care of some last-minute business. In the closet, you will find a couple of matching sports coats, button-down shirts, a tie, and dress shoes. One of the workers is also bringing you toiletries and other necessities.

I'm sorry I can't be with you today, but I'm sure you'll find your footing on your own. If you haven't noticed, there is no front desk or check-in area. All the guests expected at Casa del Sol have already arrived. Everyone we have been waiting for is already here. Their stays are extended, indefinitely.

You might be wondering what a concierge is supposed to be doing. It's simple, my friend: Make sure the guests are happy. Ensure they're enjoying their stay. Get to know them. Tend to their needs—though they shouldn't have many. Please, make yourself at home. Adina can assist you as needed; remember, she's a local. The staff is at your disposal. But focus on the guests. Make sure they like you. And Adam. Make sure he's comfortable. I'm counting on you to do a great job; lord knows Casa del Sol needs it.

—Luz

As I finish reading, a mix of excitement and apprehension settles in my stomach. Luz has left me to run things solo. Some might see this as a free pass—unsupervised work while the boss is away—but part of me was eager to show Luz that I'm serious about doing a great job, maybe even making her proud. It's not just about repaying her kindness; it's about proving to myself that I'm not some dumb kid looking for pity or an easy ride.

I shake off the nerves and focus on getting ready. I’m oddly grateful for the lack of mirrors in my room and bathroom; I've never been comfortable staring at my own reflection. On the bathroom sink sits a bottle of aftershave I hadn't noticed before. I unscrew the cap, and a rich, complex scent fills the air—notes of sandalwood and leather mingled with a hint of fresh mint. It smells like confidence in a bottle. Not having much experience with aftershave—or with a father figure to show me the ropes—I decide to splash it across my face, then impulsively dab it onto my wrists and neck. The cool tingling sensation awakens my senses further, making me feel more put together than I have in a long time.

Opening the closet, I'm greeted by a row of neatly hung clothes, each item pressed and presented with meticulous care. A deep khaki pair of slacks catches my eye, perfectly creased and begging to be worn. I pair them with a crisp white button-down shirt that feels almost too pristine for someone like me. At the bottom of the closet sits a navy shoebox emblazoned with a brand name I've never heard of but that oozes luxury. Inside, nestled within a drawstring bag, are the most beautiful pair of dress shoes I've ever seen. The rich cognac leather gleams even in the muted light of the room, darkening elegantly toward the toes. The scent of new leather wafts up, intoxicating and almost surreal. I slip them on, feeling an unfamiliar but welcome sense of sophistication wash over me.

As I sit on the edge of the bed, adjusting to the fit of the new shoes, a subtle disturbance catches my eye. It's minute—something most people would overlook—but alarms start ringing in my head. My duffel bag has been moved. Yesterday, I had placed it carefully on the floor, aligning it perfectly between six wooden floorboards. Now, it's slightly askew, sitting off-center as if someone has rummaged through it and hastily tried to put it back.

A cold knot forms in my stomach as I pick up the bag gingerly, my heartbeat quickening with each passing second. Unzipping it, I sift through my meager belongings: socks, boxers, worn-out shorts and shirts, my beat-up sneakers—all seemingly untouched. I reach into the right shoe, where I had hidden a flyer—the "Now Hiring" notice with Casa del Sol's logo, complete with the inn's address and a picturesque image of the property basking beside the lake. On the back are my scribbled notes from my initial call with Luz. But something is missing.

The newspaper printouts I had meticulously collected and hidden alongside the flyer are gone. Articles detailing the so-called healing miracles of Sunny Side Lake, stories of desperate people flocking to Bethesda as their last hope—all vanished. More troubling are the missing exposés on the Solis family: allegations of gentrification, financial corruption, manipulative control over local economies and political figures. Reports hinting at threats and violence orchestrated by the Solis family and their network of loyal workers. All of it—evidence I had gathered to understand the place I was stepping into—has disappeared without a trace.

A chill runs down my spine. Someone at the inn has gone through my most personal belongings and now knows I've done my homework. The question that looms large and ominous: Who? And perhaps more importantly, why?

I sit back, the polished sheen of the room suddenly feeling claustrophobic. The walls seem to close in slightly, the previously comforting silence now thick with unease. Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my racing thoughts. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe someone was just tidying up and misplaced the papers. But deep down, I know that's wishful thinking. There's more to Casa del Sol than meets the eye, and perhaps I've just scratched the surface of something far more complex—and possibly dangerous—than I anticipated.

I stand up, straightening my freshly pressed shirt and adjusting the cuffs. If someone wanted to send me a message, they've succeeded. But I didn't come all this way to be scared off by missing papers and subtle threats. With a final glance around the room, I grab my new sports coat and steel myself for the day ahead. Time to meet the guests and play the role I've been assigned. After all, every house has its secrets—maybe it's time I start uncovering them.

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Chapter 8; Now - Something Happens In The Water

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