Still, she was curious about him. She wondered why, whenever Dillon was with children, she glimpsed so much sadness in his eyes. Would he ever tell her what that was about? Did she really want him to?
Entering the three-story main lobby of the resort from the corridor that led to the shops and restaurants, she noticed Dave Lindstrom standing by the life-size elk sculpture near the huge central fireplace. He was speaking with another guest. Crossing the vast lobby to reach the check-in desk, she was surprised when Dave’s son Jeff approached her, casting a glance at his dad before he asked, “Can I talk to you? Maybe over there?” He pointed to one of the leather sofas that faced away from his father.
Crossing to the sofa and sitting down, Erika felt a sense of urgency about Jeff. She didn’t know if she should talk to him with the threat of a lawsuit in the air, but his gaze was so beseeching she gave in. She had a few more minutes on her lunch break to spare.
She smiled at him reassuringly. “What would you like to talk about?”
He fidgeted with the hem of his T-shirt. “My dad said the chef who made my lunch got fired. And a lawsuit will cost the resort lots and lots of money and more people will get fired. Is that true?”
Jeff was mature for his age … and bright. The chef had in fact been fired, though she’d sworn she’d been very careful with his salad and his burger that day. Erika hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Why are you worried about this?”
“I watch the news. Dad has the cable channel on a lot. If people lose their jobs, they could lose their houses, too. And their kids won’t have a place to live!”
He was upset and now she suspected why. Jeff was a good kid and what she saw in his eyes was … guilt. “Your dad said you had a salad and that’s what caused your allergic reaction. If the chef wasn’t careful …” She let her voice trail off, giving Jeff an opening to tell her what really happened.
Tears came to Jeff’s eyes as he glanced toward his dad, then back at her.
She said gently, “Your dad loves you. All he cares about is that you’re well again.”
“He tells me over and over again not to eat anything someone else gives me. I have to eat stuff different from everyone else. It’s no fun.”
“I imagine it’s not.”
“I made a friend here. We went fishing together and skipped rocks and just walked.”
“Who’s your friend?”
“His name’s Ken.”
“Did you and Ken share something?” she guessed.
Jeff wiped his palms on his jeans. “He had this candy bar. He said it was just chocolate, no nuts. He gave me half of it and I stuck it in my pocket. That day at lunch when I saw that salad—” He sighed. “I just get so tired of salads. But Dad says they’re good for me. He got a phone call and left the table and I just … I just ate that half of the chocolate bar. It wasn’t supposed to have any nuts in it!”
Erika knew all that chocolate had to do was touch part of a conveyor belt where a nut product had lain. That was all it took for someone with food allergies to have a reaction.
She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do with the information. She didn’t want to put Jeff and his father at odds in a public place, or interfere in the proceedings if there was a lawsuit. So she simply asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if your father sued the resort, would it?”
Jeff morosely shook his head.
“I do think it would probably be better if you told your dad instead of someone else telling him, though, don’t you?”
“He’s going to be so mad. I told you because …”
“Because you had to tell someone,” she guessed. “What does your dad do when he gets mad?”
“He yells and his face turns a little red. But afterward he usually says he’s sorry. He’ll probably take away my computer privileges.”
“You’re a smart kid. I think you can find something else to do. I also think your dad will be proud of you for telling the truth.”
“You think so?”
She’d seen firsthand the love that Dave Lindstrom felt for his son. She nodded. “I’m sure of it.”
Opening her purse, she took a slip of paper from it. She wrote down her cell-phone number and handed it to Jeff. “If you get into too much trouble and you want somebody to talk to, just give me a call, okay?”
“I don’t know when I’m gonna tell him.”
“I know. I just want you to know you have a friend if you need one.”
His father had finished his conversation and was walking toward them.
Erika asked Jeff, “Are you going to be okay?”
The boy nodded.
As Lindstrom beckoned his son to come with him, Jeff stuffed the paper she’d given him with her number into his pocket and crossed to his dad.
After a few minutes of considering her conversation with the boy, Erika decided what she was going to do. Following the hall back to the infirmary, she found Dillon in his office. He was filling in information on a patient’s online chart.
His door was open but she rapped anyway.
When he looked up, he saw her, but his expression was unreadable as he said, “Come in.” She realized he’d had a busy morning. Two guests had gone hiking and had fallen; another guest had expressed a problem with dizziness. Later, an older gentleman had rushed in with a nosebleed that wouldn’t quit. Erika had already learned Dillon didn’t let his chart work back up, and he e-mailed duplicate copies of the guests’ infirmary visits to their family physicians. So he had a lot of info to enter.
“Did you have lunch?” she asked as an opener, not knowing where else to begin.
“Not yet. Ruthann just arrived. I’ll take a break in a little while.”
“I can pick you up something at the deli and bring it in.”
“I told you before, Erika, that’s not your job. You’re not here to wait on me.”
No, she wasn’t. She was going to make a place for herself on this management team and become an asset to Thunder Canyon Resort.
“I was just in the lobby and Jeff Lindstrom asked to talk to me,” she began, trying to keep her heart from tripping too fast.
“How is he?” Dillon’s voice was full of obvious concern for the boy.
“He’s fine. But feeling guilty.”
“About?” Dillon stood and came around the desk to where she was standing.
“Employees getting fired because of him. He told me he’d made a friend. This friend had given him half a chocolate bar and assured him there weren’t any nuts in it.”
It was obvious Dillon was surprised. “He actually told you that?”
“Is it so difficult to believe an eight-year-old has a conscience and would confide in me?” she asked a bit defensively.
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean it that way. Did he tell his father?”
She shook her head. “Mr. Lindstrom was in the lobby, too, and Jeff didn’t seem ready. But he knows he has to now that he confided in me.”
Dillon took another step closer to her. “Jeff coming to you was important. This