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Lost and Found on Foxglove Street (The Foxglove Street #9) Chapter 1 3%
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Lost and Found on Foxglove Street (The Foxglove Street #9)

Lost and Found on Foxglove Street (The Foxglove Street #9)

By Alix Kelso
© lokepub

Chapter 1

1

Grace Burton smiled across the reception desk at the couple she’d just checked into the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel and slid their keycard across the counter towards them.

“You’re all set, Mr and Mrs Hargreaves,” Grace said. “Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven until ten in the morning, but as regular visitors here, I think you already know that.”

Mr Hargreaves, an older man somewhere in his early seventies judging by his distinguished silvery hair, returned her grin as he picked up the room keycard from the counter.

“We appreciate the reminder,” he said.

“I see from our booking records that you’ve reserved a table in our restaurant this evening. I hope you enjoy your meal with us.”

“The food here is delicious, and is always a highlight of our stay,” Mrs Hargreaves said. “Whenever I see that the chef has included chocolate fondant on the dessert menu, I just can’t resist.”

“Well, I’m pleased to confirm that particular dessert is on the menu this month.”

“I’m thrilled to hear it.”

Grace smiled as she printed out the couple’s booking and payment details and handed the paperwork to them. “Is there anything else I can help with before you settle into your room?”

“Yes, actually,” Mr Hargreaves said. “When is the hotel bar open until tonight?”

“Eleven-thirty,” Grace replied.

“Perfect. We’ll have time to enjoy a nightcap after dinner before turning in.”

“Once I’ve had my chocolate fondant, I doubt there will be enough room for a nightcap,” Mrs Hargreaves laughed.

“Well, we’ll just have to pace ourselves, won’t we?” her husband replied and brushed a kiss across her forehead.

Grace shared another warm laugh with the couple before wishing them a comfortable stay at the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel. As she watched them cross the lobby towards the lifts, she hoped they’d enjoy the surprise waiting for them in their room, where a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket beside an arrangement of roses and a box of luxury chocolates that were handmade by a local chocolatier specially for the hotel.

The Hargreaves were regular guests at the Hamblehurst Manor, visiting several times a year, and when Mr Hargreaves had made his latest reservation, he had added a note to his restaurant booking, requesting that champagne be served as soon as they arrived at their table for dinner and explaining that he and his wife were celebrating their wedding anniversary.

Grace had dealt with the guest request personally, and also arranged the special surprise treats now waiting in the Hargreaves’ room. The luxury five-star Hamblehurst Manor Hotel took very special care of its guests, particularly those who were frequent visitors, and Grace always enjoyed the opportunity to oversee the addition of champagne and chocolates to a guest’s room.

Dealing with such tasks was a little below her pay grade these days, and as an assistant manager in the guest experience division, she really ought to have delegated the task to someone else on her team. But Grace took tremendous pride in her job and loved the opportunity to deal with the pleasurable work of adding the complementary gifts and laying them out just so, knowing how much the guests would be thrilled to see them when they walked into the room.

Going the extra mile for the guests was what made the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel one of the most prestigious resorts in all of Hampshire, and Grace’s passion for and commitment to the hotel was the reason she’d climbed so far in her career there. Aged just twenty-nine, she was the youngest member of staff ever to be appointed to an assistant manager role. Before she hit thirty, she planned to be well on the way to securing a coveted manager position.

After closing the Hargreaves’ booking details at the reception desk computer terminal, Grace dealt with a few other administrative tasks that required her attention. As she finished her paperwork, the lobby grew busier as guests and visitors wandered towards the bar and the restaurant areas on the west wing of the ground floor. It was almost six-thirty, the peak time for those in search of an early evening apéritif before dinner.

Grace took a moment to enjoy the sight of the bustling lobby area. Elegant and opulent, the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel was a beautiful place to work. From the sleek polished marble floors of the lobby where the air was scented with the fresh herbaceous aromas from bespoke oil diffusers, to the wood panelled bar with its leather club chairs and smoked glass mirrors, to the dazzling restaurant where the perfectly set tables were lit by glittering chandeliers and the views overlooked the velvet lawns that gave way to the soft rolling hills of the South Downs, the hotel was a place of luxury and indulgence and world-class service.

When guests weren’t enjoying the fine dining and the well-stocked bar, they relaxed in the swimming pool or sauna, immersed themselves in the full-service spa where treatments and massages were in high demand, worked out in the stunning gym facilities, played tennis on one of the four outdoor courts, or took in a round of golf on the eighteen-hole course attached to the resort.

A beacon for well-heeled tourists who wanted to be pampered, the hotel also attracted professionals and business people thanks to its comfortable conference facilities, and was also a prestigious wedding venue with dedicated spaces for both ceremonies and receptions. With almost one hundred and twenty guest rooms across six floors, and with the beautiful and original Hamblehurst Manor House complemented with a sleek and sympathetic extension that more than quadrupled the resort’s footprint, the hotel was one of the jewels in the crown of the Hampshire hospitality industry and continued to be a business that went from strength to strength.

Not a day went by when Grace didn’t thank her lucky stars that this was where she got to come to work every day.

“Grace! You’re not still on shift, surely?”

Glancing up from the paperwork she was finishing behind the reception counter, Grace saw one of the deputy general managers crossing the marble floor towards her. Clive Peters had been on the hiring committee when Grace was interviewed for the entry-level reception supervisor role that had first brought her to the hotel five years ago, and he’d continued to support and mentor her progress ever since.

“I’m just finishing up,” Grace said, stacking the paperwork she’d dealt with and logging out of the reception desk computer terminal.

“You were supposed to finish over an hour ago,” Clive frowned, following her towards the staff offices located discretely beyond the reception lobby. “And I know you started early today too, which means you’ve been here for nearly twelve hours. That, my dear, is more than enough for anyone.”

Grace laughed as Clive stood with his arms folded and watched while she removed her bag from the row of lockers where staff stored their personal items during shifts. When she tried to veer towards her desk on the other side of the office space for one last glance at the customer satisfaction reports she’d been analysing earlier that day, Clive caught her by the arm and steered her towards the office door.

“No more work for you today, and that’s final,” Clive said, his tone firm. “If I have to march you out into the car park and shove you into your car, I’ll do it.”

“I’m going, don’t worry,” Grace laughed. “Stop making a fuss, Clive. Everyone who works here goes the extra mile, you know.”

“Everyone except for you, that is. You go the extra five miles, and more often than not, even more than that.”

“You know I love my job, Clive.”

“I do know it. But you’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet tomorrow because you worked twelve hours straight today.”

“My shift doesn’t start until eleven tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

Grace had come in early that morning to cover for staff absence due to sickness and had stayed on into the early evening to allow another member of staff to rush home to deal with a family emergency. She was happy to help out, especially when it meant she was covering the reception desk, one of her favourite places to work. Grace enjoyed interacting with the guests as they checked in and checked out, answering their questions and resolving any problems they might have.

Clive Peters might be concerned that she’d worked a long twelve-hour shift in order to cover staff absences, but Grace loved her job and loved being at the hotel and it was no hardship to pitch in to plug the gap. She also figured that being willing to help out when there was a personnel shortage could only go in her favour when it came to her promotion prospects.

Satisfied that she appeared to be leaving work at last, Clive waved her off as she left the staff office suite. Grace was heading towards the exits when she spotted two other members of staff emerging from a corridor further down where the housekeeping office was located. The two young women smiled and switched directions towards her. Emily and Janey both worked as housekeeping shift supervisors and were close to Grace’s age.

“Hi, Grace!” Emily called out. “We were just talking about you.”

“We’ve just finished our shift and we were thinking we’d stop off at the pub once we get back to Hamblehurst,” Janey said. “We wondered if you were finished for the day and if you’d like to come with us?”

“Thanks for thinking of me, but I’ve been here since six-thirty this morning,” Grace said. “I doubt I’d last long enough for a glass of wine.”

Both Emily and Janey looked disappointed.

“Are you sure?” Emily asked. “You could always just stick to a soft drink. We thought it would be nice to catch up for a bit.”

“It’s a lovely idea, but maybe another time?”

“We’ll hold you to that, Grace,” Janey said. “You’ve turned us down the last few times we’ve invited you to the pub. We’ll start to get a complex if you keep it up.”

Janey gave a warm laugh as she and Emily said goodbye and walked off. Grace hoped she hadn’t offended the two nice young women by declining their offer to join them for a drink at the pub. The long shift she’d worked today was really just a handy excuse to get out of the invitation. Both Emily and Janey were lovely women and good company, but at this point in her life Grace didn’t have much time for socialising.

She was laser-focused on doing what she had to do in order to win the next promotion at the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel. Grace’s career meant everything to her, and she was prepared to make whatever sacrifices were required in order to keep progressing.

Tonight, once she got home, she planned to spend the rest of the evening studying and keeping up to date with the latest developments in the hospitality world. Grace subscribed to a wide range of publications and online resources that provided sector-specific news and key data, along with access to various skills training and certifications that were all invaluable to Grace as she continued to develop her abilities in the business.

She would much rather settle down at home with her laptop and her hospitality resources than sit in the pub chatting. Although she liked both Emily and Janey a great deal, there would be time for friendship and socialising later, once she’d made her way up the next rung on her career ladder.

Grace followed the corridor away from the staff office suite towards the exits that led to the staff car park at the rear of the hotel. Climbing into her car, she turned on the radio and headed for home, enjoying steering the car along the long graceful tree-lined lane that connected the hotel grounds to the road beyond the estate perimeter. It was late June, just past midsummer, and the evening sunshine cast softly dappled light through the leaves in the tree canopy as Grace drove towards the grand exit at the end of the hotel driveway.

The Hamblehurst Manor Hotel was located three miles west of the village of Hamblehurst, where Grace lived. The small town was home to many of the staff who worked at the resort, such as Emily and Janey, although some also commuted from further afield, such as Portsmouth and Chichester to the south.

Grace had moved to Hamblehurst a year ago, when she’d been promoted to her current assistant manager role and had at last been able to afford to buy her own place to live. Home was now a mid-terraced two-bedroomed house on Foxglove Street, one of the prettiest residential areas in Hamblehurst. Grace was proud to call the small but perfectly formed little house her own, and becoming a home owner had marked a huge day and a huge milestone in Grace’s life.

Having her own roof over her head meant a great deal to Grace, and it was something she would never take for granted. Every time she left work and made the journey home in her tiny biscuit-tin of a car, she reminded herself of how lucky she was to have the security of a house to call her own.

Well, a house to call her own once she’d made another twenty-four years’ worth of mortgage payments. But she would make those payments, of that she had no doubt. And she would do that by staying committed to her career and continuing to progress in the job she loved.

The country roads around the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel soon gave way to the main trunk road that led into the town of Hamblehurst. Grace steered through the lovely roads and along the high street before turning onto Foxglove Street and following the winding route towards her own stretch of terraced houses further along. She passed the grand Edwardian townhouses and Victorian villas and small cottages and the mix of detached and semi-detached houses that were sprinkled from one end of the long street to the other, enjoying the view of the quaint and lovely street as she drove.

At this late hour in the evening, street parking wasn’t always easy to find, and it wasn’t unusual for Grace to have to drive up and down the street several times in search of a space. Sometimes she had no choice but to park her car further afield on one of the other residential streets that spurred off from Riverside Road at the far end.

But tonight, she got lucky with a space right outside her terraced block. After her long twelve-hour shift at work, she was glad the evening wouldn’t end with a parking detour elsewhere, followed by a hike all the way back to her house.

Grace climbed out of the car and hitched her bag over her shoulder, her mind already turning to the study she planned to do that evening. As she locked the car, she thought about what she could make for dinner. A mental scan of her fridge recalled eggs, cheese, tomatoes, and a red pepper that was almost past its best. All perfect ingredients for an omelette, which had the advantage of being quick to prepare and quick to clean up afterwards, and which would therefore allow her to dive into her study work without being detained too long in the kitchen.

She was digging into her bag in search of her house keys when a sudden movement on her right caught her gaze. When she looked up, she saw a small scruffy brown-and-white dog barrelling towards her along the pavement. There was no one else in sight, just the little dog.

A little dog that was heading straight in her direction, its eyes fixed firmly on her.

Grace braced herself, the animal’s speed and excitement making her think it was preparing to launch itself at her. But at the last moment, the dog came to an abrupt halt beside her, let out a wheeze and then just stood there panting and smiling and wagging its tail.

“Um, hello there,” Grace said to the little dog.

The dog answered with a muffled bark as it gazed up at her.

“Are you lost? Where’s your owner?”

The dog panted and looked around, as if searching for the person it belonged to. Grace looked around too, but Foxglove Street was quiet this evening. There were a few kids playing on the pavement further along, and beyond them she saw a man walking in her direction.

Did the dog belong to the kids who were playing, or perhaps to the man? The dog had run from the opposite direction, so maybe it had got too far ahead and was retracing its steps when it ran into Grace.

The man had passed the kids who were playing further along the street and was now drawing close to where Grace was standing. He didn’t appear to notice either her or the dog as he peered at his phone in one hand while hefting a shopping bag in the other.

“Is this your dog?” Grace asked when he got closer.

The man looked up from his phone and blinked in surprise, his gaze switching between Grace and the dog sitting at her feet. He didn’t look much older than Grace, maybe somewhere in his early thirties, and wore a smart grey blazer over a navy blue shirt and dark jeans. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth when he saw the dog, but it wasn’t a smile of recognition.

“No, sorry, the dog isn’t mine.” His smile vanished as a frown appeared. “He’s not lost, is he?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace replied. “He just ran along the street and sat down beside me.” She looked back at the dog, which was panting happily at her feet. “He doesn’t have a collar, and he looks a bit scruffy and dirty, to be honest. Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s a he or a she.”

They stood for a moment, the two of them staring at the scruffy dog who looked back at them, tongue lolling as it continued panting.

“Maybe it belongs to those kids who are playing over there?” Grace suggested.

The man turned around towards the kids he’d passed on the pavement just a moment ago. “Hey, kids!” he called out. “Is this your dog?”

The kids, two girls and a boy, grabbed the ball they’d been bouncing between them and ran along the street towards them.

“We don’t have a dog,” the older of the two girls announced.

“Is it lost?” the smaller girl asked, leaning over to pet the animal, who lapped up the attention.

“Won’t it be sad if it’s lost?” the little boy asked, looking worried as he too petted the animal.

“It’s okay, little dog,” the smaller girl said. “We’ll look after you. We’ll take you home with us!”

“It’s not our dog, Lizzie!” the older girl admonished her. “Mum will kill us if we come home with a dog!”

The bombardment of chatter from the three children left Grace feeling a little stunned. The dog, still enjoying the attention and the pats, appeared to be in a state of bliss.

Across the street, a front door opened and Grace looked up to see a woman emerging onto the front step.

“It’s bath time, you three!” the woman shouted.

“We don’t want a bath, Mum!” the smaller girl shouted back. “We want to cuddle the dog!”

“Leave that dog alone and come inside right this minute!” the woman shouted. “I mean it!”

Their mother’s tone left no room for debate. The three children patted the dog one last time before darting across the road and inside the house. Before Grace could think to call out and ask the woman if she had any idea who the dog belonged to, the woman had followed her children inside and closed the door.

With the children gone, the dog got up from the pavement where it had been lying on its back in order to receive the tummy rubs being dispensed by the kids and gave itself a good shake. It glanced around a few times before sitting down again beside Grace and smiling up at her.

“Are you sure this isn’t your dog?” the man laughed. “He seems to really like you.”

“I’ve never seen this animal before in my life. He just appeared out of nowhere.”

Frustrated, Grace looked around the street, wishing there was someone passing who might recognise the dog and know who it belonged to. Foxglove Street wasn’t usually this quiet. There were always pedestrians coming and going, especially dog walkers at this time of the evening. And yet the street was almost eerily quiet now.

“Maybe the dog knows exactly where it’s going and I’m making something out of nothing,” Grace said. “Perhaps if I just head towards my house, it will go on its way.”

But when she reached for the garden gate of her terraced house, the little dog stood up and attempted to follow her onto the front path to the door.

“The poor little guy looks a bit confused,” the man said. “And he’s definitely a he, by the way.”

“I think he’s surely lost,” Grace said. “Or maybe he’s a stray. Considering the fact he has no collar, and seems pretty stinky, he might even have been lost for a while.” She looked up at the man and sighed. “What should we do?”

“We?” he said, an amused smile lifting his mouth.

“You wouldn’t rush off and leave me to sort this out on my own, would you?” He might be a stranger, but Grace felt they were sort of in this together as far as the lost dog was concerned, and as she had no clue what to do with the creature next, she was hoping the man might have an idea.

He must have heard the panic in her voice, because his expression turned serious. “Of course I won’t rush off and leave you with the little guy. If the dog has a microchip, we could get him scanned to find out who his owner is. But it’s late and I think the local vet’s practice is probably closed already. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“So who’ll look after him until then?”

The little dog yapped and jumped up on its back legs, and scrabbled at Grace’s knees before he launched itself into her arms. Too shocked to do anything but catch the creature following this canine athletic feat, Grace let out a yelp of her own as the dog licked her face and wriggled against her with excitement.

“Seems like he’s picked you as his temporary care giver,” the man laughed.

“I can’t look after him!” Grace frowned. “I’ve got studying to do tonight.”

“I hate to say it, but he looks pretty devoted to you already.” His smile was back, as if he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. “Look, I’d offer to take the dog home with me, but I’ve got cinema tickets tonight, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave a lost dog alone in a house he’s never been inside. He might get upset or pee all over the place. Are you planning on being at home tonight?”

Grace wished she’d got in there first with an excuse about having proper plans outside the house. Instead, she’d stupidly admitted she would be at home and studying, and now this guy had jumped in and announced he was going out to the cinema. It was probably just a lie, so he didn’t have to get roped into dealing with the stray dog, and in all fairness to him, he had been minding his own business until Grace stopped him in his tracks and conscripted him into helping her.

Grace looked at the squirming dog in her arms. He might be scruffy and dirty and, yes, a bit smelly too, but he was cute, with that daft canine smile and his bright button eyes. Finding herself responsible for a stray dog hadn’t been on the agenda for tonight, but she wasn’t about to just dump the poor animal and leave it to its fate on the streets.

“Yes, I’ll be home all night,” Grace said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll look after him. I was the one who found him, after all.”

As if understanding every word, the dog let out an excited yap and licked her face.

“Thanks for that, Doggo,” Grace said, laughing in spite of herself. “I don’t even know your name, you silly little mutt.”

“He looks like a Stanley to me,” the man said.

Grace laughed again, sizing up the name as she studied the excitable dog in her arms. “You’re right. He does look like he might be a Stanley. He has a sort of whiskery old man look about him. All right, Stanley, it looks like you’re stuck with me until tomorrow morning. Let’s just hope the local vet’s practice knows what to do with you, because I have to get to work by eleven.”

“Listen, if you like, I can come with you to the vet’s tomorrow,” the man said. “That way, if there’s any problem finding out who this little guy is and who he belongs to, I can be there to help work out what to do next, so you don’t end up late getting to work.”

Grace gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank you. That would be a big help.”

“I’m Ryan,” the man said and held out his hand. “Ryan Lewis. I live on Riverside Road.”

Grace awkwardly shook his hand while clutching the happily panting Stanley. “I’m Grace Burton. Let’s swap numbers.”

Grace set Stanley on the ground while they exchanged contact details. The dog showed no sign of wandering off. Instead, he planted his bottom on the ground at her feet and looked up at her adoringly.

“Are you sure he isn’t your dog?” Ryan said again, an incredulous grin on his face. “He definitely likes you.”

“It’s the weirdest thing.”

Stanley barked, as if in agreement, making them both laugh.

“I’ll drop by tomorrow morning and we can go to the vet’s together and see if we can’t get Stanley back to where he belongs,” Ryan said.

“See you then. Enjoy your trip to the cinema tonight.”

If Ryan had been lying about his plans for the evening, his face showed no sign of it as he ruffled Stanley’s fur and waved goodbye before walking off towards Riverside Road at the other end of the street. Grace watched him go and then turned to the little dog still sitting at her feet.

How had she ended up looking after a smelly stray dog?

Stanley barked and cocked his head.

“You’re a mind reader, are you?” Grace asked.

Stanley barked again and ran in a circle.

Grace couldn’t help but laugh as she headed towards her front door with the little dog hot on her heels.

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