AVA
On Monday, I made my way to Luxe Hotels’ now-familiar office headquarters in Manhattan. Everything seemed different to me now that I looked at it as Desmond’s company. Desmond, the man who had most recently dated a very pretty Chanel model for the past two months and was now newly single. Oh, Freya’s information had been very valuable.
This time, I marveled at the magnificent glass building for only four minutes—unlike the last time, when I’d gawked for ten minutes straight.
There were easily over thirty floors in this skyscraper. I remembered reading that the number of employees who worked for Desmond in this building alone was roughly two thousand. If that was true, the café ought to be plenty busy.
When I finally met with Juniper Halstead, the head of human resources, she gave me a key card that would give me access to most of the conference rooms in the building.
“The café provides most of the food and drinks for the smaller company meetings,” Juniper informed me at theend of the meeting. “They make fantastic sandwiches,” she added as I picked up my handbag and turned to leave.
“Here, let me introduce you to Carolyn at the café myself. I need a walk and a coffee,” she said as we took the elevator down to the lobby.
We walked to the café, which was essentially a long counter, on which rested shiny espresso and frothing machines. Carolyn, the only employee, stood by the cash register. Behind her was a large freezer with frozen entrées, like pasta, a kale and cheese bake, and finally … gnocchi.
I resisted rolling my eyes. I hoped Desmond was right about getting Mom’s restaurant up and running soon as well.
I looked around and saw Coffee carafes at the end of the counter and a glass display case holding muffins, bagels, and pastries. The café had a sitting area with a few comfy leather chairs around a coffee table and some foldable chairs and giant glass windows with a view of the street.
I liked this place.
I turned to where Carolyn was making a cup of tea for a customer. She looked up as we approached, our heels clicking on the white marble flooring. Her gaze fell on Juniper, and she shook her head with an apologetic look.
“We’re out of the chocolate espresso cake. Sorry about that,” she said, setting the cup of tea on the counter as we walked up.
Juniper groaned as we came to a stop by the cash register and then gave me a remorseful look. “I always tell everyone I’m here for the coffee, and Carolyn is the only one who knows what I’m really here for is the chocolate espresso cake.”
“It has espresso in it, so you’re not wrong there.” Carolyngrinned at her. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Halstead,” she said. “I know how you love that cake.”
Juniper shook her head, suppressing a grin. “Not as much as you. We’re both crazy about it.” She gestured to me, “Carolyn, meet Ava, our new café manager.”
Carolyn’s face beamed up at me while I smiled back.
“Thank goodness,” Carolyn said. “Ever since Winnie left, we’ve hardly been able to hold things together, to be honest. Especially on Mondays.”
Juniper turned to me. “Mondays are when the executive floor schedules all their team meetings, and they need a lot of coffee. All right, I’ll leave you two to it then. Good luck, Ava, and welcome to Luxe Hotels.”
I waved and turned back to Carolyn, who spent the next ten minutes showing me how the café ran.
“Are you working a ten-hour shift today, Carolyn?” I asked when she showed me the schedule for the day.
She nodded. “My replacement at four p.m. canceled. So, I get to openandclose the café today.”
My heart went out to her when I realized she’d been standing on her feet for a ten-hour shift.
“I bet your feet are killing you,” I said with a shake of my head. “I was a waitress for five years, and those long shifts were the toughest. I could do a CrossFit session twice in a day, and that would be way easier.”
The woman nodded with a small laugh. “I sneak into the back to sit down now and then, so that helps. Speaking of which, we’re due to take this cart of coffee and sandwiches up to floor nineteen for their meeting.”
“I’m on it,” I said, taking off my purse and setting it on the hook in the kitchen. “Which meeting is this again?”
“An executive team meeting,” she reminded me. “Floor nineteen. Watch out for Ellie Hunt. She’s always in a bad mood on Mondays.”
9
DESMOND
Iwas early to my meeting, along with Ellie, one of my employees from the public relations department. Earlier in the morning, she had texted me, letting me know that we needed to meet ten minutes before the rest of the team arrived to discuss some of the recent policy changes I’d made.
