181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 66: Diversion

"Oh god. I'm sorry," Iola apologized for the nth time.

"One more sorry and I'll shove my slipper into your mouth," Steph replied with a flip-flop in her hand.

Meanwhile, Mickey and I just exchanged glances, shrugging at the same time.

The last five months of the year were usually rainy, with August and September being the months with the most rainfall. Marketing-wise, why would Iola's family open a beach resort during the off-peak season? It didn't make sense, or maybe her parents were risk-takers. No idea. But it didn't cross our minds either until we arrived. So, here we were, standing in front of Ferne Isle's reception desk, with the heavy rain pouring outside.

I smirked at the name of the resort. Ferne Isle. If Steph and Iola were a thing, I would've thought the resort's name was their idea. But it was probably a fun, memorable name for Fernandez Island, even though it was nowhere near an island.

"Well, hello there!" a plump woman, around her early fifties, greeted us with wide open arms. "You're Iola's friends?"

"Mom, these are my friends I met during club activities," Iola replied. "Mickey, St—"

"What's your surname, dear?" Iola's mom asked.

"Basil, madame," Mickey replied.

"Ooh, new surname. Are your parents in the business world?"

"Mom—"

"My father's not here anymore," Mickey replied confidently, as if she was already used to such questions. "I'm raised by my hardworking mother. She's a property care consultant."

I raised a brow. A property care consultant, huh?

"A hardworking single mother! Oh, I love them." Then Iola's mother looked at Steph as she waited for Iola to continue.

"This is Steph Isles—"

"Oh! Isles!" Iola's mother immediately shook hands with Steph. "How are you related to Elijah?"

"He's my granduncle," Steph answered, clearly uncomfortable.

Before her mother could say anything else, Iola butted in, "And this is—"

But I cut her off, not wanting to hear any more about Steph's despicable relatives. "Madeline Jacobs," I introduced myself as I curtsied. "Daughter of Daniel and Isabella Jacobs."

"O-oh! My, my, you didn't say you are friends with a Jacobs, Iola, my dear."

Iola averted her gaze, obviously ashamed of her mother's attitude. Her mother's reaction upon hearing our surnames wasn't all new to me. Isles and Jacobs were well-known names that business people were looking forward to, probably hoping to make connections.

Somehow, it made me thankful that my mother wasn't a classist. I wouldn't know how I could endure that.

"I'm Iola's mother," she said with a welcoming smile, though behind it was a sense of superiority. "Iola, lead them to their rooms. I need to find your father. A VIP guest is about to arrive." Then she looked at me with panic in her eyes. "I'm not saying you aren't a VIP, Madeline. Just let us know what you need, okay, dear?"

I nodded, weirded out that she only addressed me.

She grabbed something out of her dress, right by her chest, as if she just used her cleavage as a pocket. It turned out to be a calling card. "I've been trying to contact your mom, but she seemed to be very busy—"

"Mom, go," Iola interrupted, pushing her mother's back away from us. "Look for Pops."

"Alright, alright. Just tell me what they need, okay Oh, oh, wait!" She whispered something to Iola and gave something that seemed to be a keycard. Iola refused at first, but she had no choice but to give in when her mother hurried to leave.