From This Day

With relish, Maki slammed the door to her room. Arrogant, interfering, insufferable man. Doesn’t he already have enough hotels to tinker with? There must be a hundred in the Yamashita chain in the states alone, plus all those foreign resorts. Why doesn’t he open one in Antarctica?
Abruptly, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and stared in disbelief. Her face was smudged. Dust clung to her sweatshirt and jeans. Her braids hung to her shoulders. All in all, she thought grimly, I look like a rather dim-witted ten year old. She suddenly noticed a line down her cheek, and lifting her hand, recalled Tomohisa’s finger resting there.

“Oh, damn it.” Shaking her head, she began to quickly unbind her hair. “I made a mess of it,” she muttered and stripped off her morning clothing. “Looking like a grimy teenager and then losing my temper on top of it. Well, he’s not going to fire me,” she vowed fiercely and stalked to the shower. “I’ll quit first! I’m not staying around and watching while my inn is mutilated.”

Thirty minutes later, Maki pulled a brush through her hair and studied her reflection with satisfaction. She wore an ivory dress, nipped at the waist, belted in scarlet to match tiny blazing rubies at her ears. Heels gave her height a slight advantage. She felt confident she could no longer be mistaken for sixteen. Lifting a neatly written page from her dresser, she moved purposefully from the room, prepared to confront the bear in his den.

After a brief excuse for a knock, Maki pushed open the office door and slowly and purposefully advanced toward the man sitting behind the desk. Shoving the paper under his nose, she waited for his dark eyes to meet hers.

“Ah, Maki Horikita, I presume. This is quite a transformation.” Leaning back in his chair, Tomohisa allowed his eyes to travel over the length of her. “Amazing,” he smiled into her resentful brown eyes, “what can be concealed under a sweatshirt and baggy pants. What’s this?” He waved the paper idly, his eyes still appraising her.

“My resignation.” Placing her palms on the desk, she leaned forward and prepared to vent her emotions. “And now that I’m no longer in your employ, Mr. Yamashita, it’ll give me a great deal of pleasure to tell you what I think. You are,” she began as his brow rose at her tone, “a dictatorial, capitalistic opportunist. You’ve bought an inn which has for generations maintained its reputation for quality and personal service, and in order to make a few more annual dollars, you plan to turn it into a live-in amusement park. In doing so, you will not only have to let the current staff go, some of whom have worked here for twenty years, but you’ll succeed in destroying the integrity of the entire district. This is not your average tourist town, it’s a quiet settled community. People come here for fresh air and quiet, not for a brisk tennis match or to sweat in a sauna, and-“

“Are you finished, Miss Horikita?” Tomohisa questioned. Instinctively she recognized the danger in his lowered tones.

“No.” Mustering her last resources of courage, she set her shoulders and sent him a lethal glare. “Go soak in your Jacuzzi!”

On her heel, she spun around and made for the door only to find her back pressed into it as she was whirled back into the room.

“Miss Horikita,” Tomohisa began, effectively holding her prisoner by leaning over her, arms at either side of her head. “I permitted you to clear your system for two reasons. First, you’re quite a fabulous sight when your temper’s in full gear. I noticed that even when I took you for a rude teenager. A lot of it has to do with your eyes. That, of course,” he added as she stared up at him, unable to form a sound, “is strictly on a personal level. Now on a professional plane, I am receptive to your opinions, if not to your delivery.”

Abruptly, the door swung open, dislodging Maki into a hard chest. “We found Julius’s lunch,” Junno announced cheerfully and disappeared.

“You have a very enthusiastic staff,” Tomohisa commented dryly as his arms propped her up against him. “Who the devil is Julius?”

“He’s Mrs. Matsuto’s Great Dane. She doesn’t go anywhere without him.”

“Does he have his own room?” His tone was gently mocking.

“No, he has a small space in the back.”

Tomohisa smiled suddenly, his face close to hers. Power shot through her system like a bolt of electricity down a lightning rod. With a jerk, she pulled away and pushed at her tumbled hair.

“Mr. Yamashita,” she began, attempting to retrieve her missing dignity. He claimed her hand and pulled her back toward the desk, then pushed her firmly down on the chair.

“Do be quiet, Miss Horikita,” he told her in easy tones, settling behind the desk. “It’s my turn now.” She stared with a mixture of astonishment and indignation.

“What I ultimately do with this inn is my decision. However, I will consider your opinion as you are intimate with this establishment and with the area and I, as yet, am not.” Lifting Maki’s resignation, Tomohisa tore it down the middle and let the pieces fall to the desk.

“You can’t do that,” she sputtered.

“I have just done it.” The mild tone spoke with authority.

Maki’s eyes narrowed. “I can easily write another.”

“Don’t waste your paper,” he advised, leaning back in his chair. “I have no intention of accepting your resignation at the moment. Later, I’ll let you know. However,” he added slowly, shrugging, “if you insist, I shall be forced to close down the inn for the next few months until I’ve found someone to replace you.”

“It couldn’t possibly take months to replace me,” Maki protested, but he was looking up at the ceiling as if lost in thought.

“Six months, perhaps.”

“Six months?” she frowned. “But you can’t. We have reservations, it’s nearly the summer season. All those people can’t be disappointed. And the staff…the staff would be out of work.”

“Yes.” With an agreeable smile, he nodded and folded his hands on the desk.

Her eyes widened. “But that’s blackmail!”

“I think that term is quite correct.” His amusement increased. “You catch on very quickly, Miss Horikita.”

“You can’t be serious. You,” she sputtered, “you wouldn’t actually close the inn just because I quit.”

“You don’t know me well enough to be sure, do you?” His eyes were confident and steady. “Do you want to chance it?”

Silence hung for a long moment, each measuring the other. “No.” Maki finally murmured, then repeated with more strength, “No, blast it, I can’t! You know that already. But I certainly don’t understand why.”

“You don’t have to know why,” he interrupted with an imperious gesture of his hand.

Sighing, Maki struggled not to permit temper to rule her tongue again. “Mr. Yamashita,” she began in what she hoped was a reasonable tone, “I don’t know why you find it so important for me to remain as manager of the inn, but-“

“How old are you, Miss Horikita?” He cut her off again. She stared in perplexed annoyance.

“I hardly see…”

“Twenty, twenty one?”

“Twenty four,” Maki corrected, inexplicably compelled to defend herself. “But I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Twenty four,” he repeated, obviously concluding she had finished one sentence and that was sufficient. “I have eight years on you, but professionally quite a bit more. I opened my first hotel when you were still leading cheers at Lakeside High.”

“I never led cheers at Lakeside High,” she said coldly, slightly insulted.

“Be that as it may,” he gently inclined his head, “the math remains the same. My reason for wanting you to remain in your current position at the inn is quite simple. You know the staff, the clientele, the suppliers and so forth. During this transition period I need your particular expertise.”

“All right, Mr. Yamashita.” Maki relaxed slightly, feeling the conversation had leveled off to a more professional plane. “But you should be aware, I will give you absolutely no cooperation in changing any aspect which I feel affects the inn’s personality. In point of fact, I will do my best to be uncooperative.”

“I’m sure you’re quite skillful at that,” Tomohisa said easily. Maki was unsure whether the smile in his eyes was real or in her imagination. “Now that we understand each other, Miss Horikita, I’d like to see the place and get an idea of how you run things. I should be fairly well briefed in two weeks.”

“You can’t possibly understand all I’ve been trying to tell you in that amount of time.”

“I make up my mind quickly,” he told her. Smiling, he studied her face. “When something’s mine, I know what to do with it.” His smile widened at her frown, and he rose. “If you want the inn to remain as is, you’d best stick around and make your sales pitch.” Taking her arm, he hauled her up from the chair. “Let’s take a look around.”

With all the warmth of a January sky, Maki took Tomohisa on a tour of the first floor, describing storage closets in minute detail. Throughout, he kept a hand firmly on her arm as a constant reminder of his authority. The continued contact made her vaguely uneasy. His voice rolled deep and smooth, and several times, she found herself listening more to the tone of his voice than his words. Annoyed at her own actions she added to the layers of frost coating her tone.

It would be easier, she decided, if he were short and balding with a pot belly, or a mole on his cheek and double chins. It’s absolutely unfair for a man to look the way he does and have to fight him, she thought resentfully.

“Have I lost you, Miss Horikita?”

“What?” Looking up, she collected her wits, inwardly cursing him again for having such dark, magnetic eyes. “No, I was thinking perhaps you’d like lunch.” A very good improvisation, she congratulated herself.

“Fine.” Agreeably, he allowed her to lead the way to the dining room.

It was a basic, rustic room, large and rectangular with beamed ceilings and gently faded wallpaper. Its charm was old and lasting. Local stone dominated one wall in which a fireplace was set. Brass andirons guarded the empty hearth. Tables had been set to encourage sociability, with a few more secluded for intimate interludes. The air was humming with easy conversation and clattering dishes. A smell of fresh baking drifted toward them.

In silence, Tomohisa studied the room, his eyes roaming from corner to corner until Maki was certain he had figured the precise square footage.

“Very nice,” he said simply.

A large, round man approached, lifting his head with a subtle dramatic flourish. “If music be the food of love, play on.”

“Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.” Maki replied after a second of hesitation.

Chuckling at Maki’s response, he rolled with a regal, if oversized, grace into the dining room.

“Shakespeare at lunch?” Tomohisa asked, surprise and humor lacing his voice.

Maki laughed, against her will her antagonism dissolved. “That was Mr. Leander. He’s been coming to the inn twice a year for the past ten years. He used to tour with a low budget Shakespearean troupe, and he likes to toss lines at me for me to cap.”

“And do you always have the correct reponse?”

“Luckily, I’ve always been fond of Shakespeare, and as insurance, I cram a bit when he makes his reservation.” A pleased smile gracing her face.

“Just part of the service?” Tomohisa inquired, tilting his head to study her from a new angle.

“You could say that.” Discreetly, Maki scanned the room to see where the young Dobson twins were seated, then steered Tomohisa to a table as far distant as possible. She knew a conversation with the twins would only lead to a headache.

“Maki.” Erika sidled to her side, eyes lighting on Tomohisa in a pure feminine appreciation. “Toma brought small eggs again and Keiko’s threatening permanent damage.”

“All right, I’ll take care of it.” Ignoring Tomohisa’s questioning stare, she turned to her waitress. “Erika, see to Mr. Yamashita’s lunch.”

Turning to the imposing owner, she bowed in apology. “Please excuse me, I’ll have to tend to this. Just send for me if you have any questions or if something is not to your satisfaction. Enjoy your meal.”

Seeing Toma’s eggs as a lucky escape hatch, Maki hurried to the kitchen. “Toma,” she said with wicked enjoyment as the door swung shut behind her. “This time, I’m umpire.”


A myriad of small demands dominated Maki’s afternoon. The ability to reason and make decisions was an important part of her job, and Maki had honed her skills. She moved without breaking rhythm from a debate with the Dobson twins on the advisability of keeping a frog in their bathtub to a counseling service with one of the maids who was weeping into the fresh linen supply over the loss of a boyfriend.

Through the hours of soothing, listening, and laying down verdicts she was still conscious of the presence of Yamashita Tomohisa. It was a simple matter to avoid him physically, but his presence seemed to follow her everywhere. He had made himself known, and she could not forget about him.

She found herself fretting to know where he was and what he was doing. Probably, she thought with a fresh flash of resentment, he’s even now in my office pouring over my books with a microscope, deciding where to put in his silly tennis courts or how to concrete the grove.

The dinner hour came and went. Maki had decided to forego supervising the dining room to have a few hours of peace. When she came downstairs to the lounge the lighting was muted, the hour late. The band hired for the benefit of the Saturday crowd had already packed their equipment. The music had been replaced by the murmurs and clinking glasses of the handful of people who remained. It was the quiet time of the evening, just before silence.

Maki allowed her thoughts to drift back to Tomohisa. I’ve got two weeks to make him see reason, she reminded herself, that should be plenty of time to make even the most insensitive businessman understand. Exchanging goodnights as stragglers began to wander from the lounge, Maki formulated a brand new strategy on how to convince Tomohisa to see reason. I’ll keep my temper under control and use a great many smiles. I’m good at smiling when I put my mind to it.

Practicing her talent on the middle aged occupant in room 224, Maki’s confidence grew at his rapidly blinking appreciation. Yes, she concluded, smiles are much better than claws at this stage. A few smiles, a more sophisticated appearance,, and I’ll defeat the enemy before the war’s declared. Rejuvenated, she turned to the bartender who was half heartedly wiping the counter. “Go on home, Don, I’ll clear up the rest.”

“Thanks, Maki.” Not needing to be told twice, he dropped his rag and disappeared through the door.

“It’s no trouble at all,” she told the empty space with a magnanimous gesture of one hand. “I really insist.”

Crossing the room, she began to gather half filled baskets of peanuts and empty glasses, switching on the small eye level television for company. Around her, the inn settled for sleep, the groans and creaks so familiar, they went unnoticed. Now that the day was over, Maki found the solitude for which she yearned.

Low, eerie music poured out of the television, drifting and floating through the darkened room. Glancing up, Maki was soon mesmerized by a horror film. Kicking off her shoes, she slid into a stool. The story was old and well worn, but she was caught by a shot of clouds drifting over a full moon. She reached one hand absently for a basket of peanuts, settling them into her lap as the fog began to clear on the set to reveal the unknown terror, preceded by the rustle of leaves, and heavy breathing. With a small moan at the stalking monster's distorted face, Maki covered her eyes and waited for doom to claim the heroine.

"You'd see more without your hand in front of your eyes." Surprised, by the voice seemingly coming from nowhere, Maki shrieked, dislodging a shower of peanuts from her lap.

"Don't ever do that again!" she commanded, turning to glare up at the new owner's smiling face.

"Sorry." His voice lacking conviction. Leaning on the bar, he nodded toward the tv. "Why do you have it on if you don't want to watch?"

"I can't help myself, it's an obsession. But I always watch with my eyes closed. Now look, watch this part, I've seen it before." She grabbed his sleeve with one hand and pointed with the other. "She's going to walk right outside like an idiot. I ask you, would anyone with a working brain cell walk out into the pitch darkness when they hear something scraping at the window? Of course not," she answered for him.

"A smart person would be huddled under the bed waiting for it to go away. Oh." She pulled him closer, burying her face against his chest as the monster's face loomed in a closeup. "It's horrible, I can't watch. Tell me when it's over."

Slowly, it dawned on her that she was burrowing into his chest, his heartbeat steady against her ear. His fingers tangled in her hair, smoothing and soothing her as though comforting a child. She stiffened and started to pull back, but the hand in her hair kept her still.

"No, wait a minute, he's still stalking about and leering. There." He patted her shoulder and loosened his grip. "Saved by commercial television."

Set free, Maki fumbled off the stool and began gathering scattered peanuts and composure. "I'm afraid things got rather out of hand this afternoon, Mr. Yamashita." Her voice was not quite steady, but she hoped he would attribute the waver to cowardice. "I must apologize for not completing your tour of the inn."

He watched as she scrambled over the floor on her hands and knees, a curtain of black hair concealing her face. "That's all right. I wandered a bit on my own. I finally met Junno when not in motion. He's a very intense young man."

She shifted away from him to search for more fallen nuts. "He'll be good at hotel management in a couple years. He just needs a little more experience." Keeping her face averted, Maki waited for the heat to cool from her cheeks.

"I met quite a few of the inn's guests today. Everyone seems very fond of you." He closed the distance between them and pushed back the hair which lay across her cheek. At this she stepped back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

Behind her, the heroine gave a high pitched scream. Scattering nuts again, Maki threw herself back into Yamapi's arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that caught me off guard." Mortified, she lifted her face and attempted to pull away.

"No, this is the third time in one day you've been in this position." One hand lifted, and traveled down the length of her hair as he held her still. "This time, I'm going to see what you taste like."

Before she could protest, his mouth lowered to hers, firm and possessive. His arm around her waist brought her close to mold against him. His tongue found hers, and she was unaware whether he had parted her lips or if they had done so of their own volition. He lingered over her mouth, savoring its softness, deepening the kiss until she clung to him for balance.

She told herself the sudden spiraling of her heartbeat was a reaction to the horror movie, the quick dizziness, the result of a missed dinner. Then she told herself nothing and only experienced.

"Very nice." Yamapi's murmured approval trailed along her cheek, moving back to tease the corner of her mouth. "Why don't we try it again?"

In instinctive defense, she pressed her hand into his chest to ward him off. Lightly she told herself, praying for her knees to stop trembling, treat it lightly. "I'm afraid I don't come in thirty two flavors, Mr. Yamashita, and..."

"Yamapi," he interrupted, smiling down at the hand which represented no more of an obstacle than a blade of grass. "I decided this morning, when you were venting in the office, that we're going to know each other very well."

"Mr. Yamashita..." she tried again only to be cut off.

"Yamapi," he repeated, his eyes close and compelling. "And my decisions are always final."

"Yamapi," she agreed, not wanting to debate a minor point when the distance between them was decreasing despite her hand against his chest. "Do you engage in this sort of activity with all the managers of your hotels?" Hoping to wound him with a scathing remark, Maki was immediately disappointed when he tossed back his head and laughed.

"Maki this current activity has nothing whatsoever to do with your position at the inn. I am merely indulging my weakness for lovely women that throw themselves into my arms."

"Don't you kiss me again!" she ordered, struggling with a sudden desperation which surprised him into loosening his hold.

"You'll have to choose between being demure or provocative, Maki." His tone was mild, but she saw his eyes had hardened with restrained temper. "Either way we play, I'm going to win."

"I don't play this sort of game," she retorted, "and I am neither demure nor provocative."

"You're a bit of both." His hands slipped into his pockets, and he rocked gently on his heels as he studied her furious face. "It's an intriguing combination." His brow lifted in speculation. An expression of amusement flitted over his features. "But I suppose you already know that or you wouldn't be so good at it."

Forgetting her fears, Maki took a step toward him. "The only thing I know is that I have absolutely no desired to intrigue you in any way. All that I want you to do is to keep your resort builder's hands off this inn." Her hands balled into tight fists. "I wish you'd go back to New York and sit in your penthouse."

Before he could answer, Maki turned and darted from the room. She hurried through the darkened lobby without even a backward glance.