Rita Hill, our fifty-three-year-old events coordinator, was huffing as walked into the room, a cart behind her. The cartwas stacked with Pizza Hut boxes, and someone else was pushing the cart in. Someone with red-gold hair.
Ava. She was wearing a long navy-blue summer dress with a thin, faded cardigan and looking like she had just come in from the cold outside. I frowned. It was late January. Why didn’t she have the right winter jacket?
Ava brought the cart to a stop next to the empty counter and the two of them shared a laugh. Ava put her arms around herself at the same moment, rubbing her hands up and down. Shewascold.
“Sorry for the delay,” Rita announced breathlessly. “The cart got stuck in the elevator doors, and I’d still be there if it was not for this fantastic woman here.”
“Thank you, ladies,” I said just as Ava turned around.
Her cheeks were bright, and her eyes were radiant, but I knew she always ran cold, even in milder weather. As I looked at her, it became apparent to me that her clothes seemed like they’d been worn for the better part of many years, and her shoes looked well worn.
Does she have money problems then?I thought while Ava searched the crowd for an empty seat. How could someone live in New York for three years and not have the right winter gear?
Henry Anderson, our head of billing, sat in the front row and went to great efforts to move his laptop satchel bag and Hydro Flask under his chair to make room for Ava. She flashed him a charming smile and sat down next to him.
That lucky bastard. Feeling a stab of jealousy, I gave Henry a scowl.
I nodded at Ava and then resumed my speech. “Thank you for coming here. In the past week, we’ve seen a lot of derogatory articles published in the papers about Luxe Hotels. We’ve seen allegations of accounting fraud, andembezzlement hit one of our subsidiary companies. We’ve set up a separate committee to investigate the truth behind these allegations. I want you to know that we will follow up on this diligently, and you will be the first to know the truth.”
An interested buzz rose from the crowd as they registered the news.
“Until then,” I continued, “I ask that you don’t fuel rumors or add to the speculation going around.”
The meeting ran for another five minutes before I opened to questions.
“I have a question.” Ava spoke, and when I looked at her, I notice her hand shook a little as she walked up to the mike in front of her aisle. “If the allegations of embezzlement are true, how will you handle the fallout?”
I cleared my throat. “That’s a brilliant question, er, Ms. Hale. At Luxe, we hold ourselves to the highest standards, and if our investigations reveal that these allegations are, in fact, true, then we will do everything necessary to fix the issue, starting with a public apology to our shareholders, followed by an internal audit and training to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
Her jaw slackened, as though she knew she had only gotten the sugarcoated version of an answer.
“And what about the staff that once worked at this company with an alleged claim of embezzlement?” she pressed.
She was sharp.
“Any staff colluding to keep details of embezzlement hidden will no longer be a part of the Luxe team.”
She kept that gaze on me.
“Thank you,” she said finally in a tone that implied anything but and sat down.
I walked out of the room ten minutes later after exchanging a few words with our CFO and our hiring manager. The large lobby was mostly empty because most of the employees had stayed back for soda and pizza. Thank goodness the fallout from the scandal hadn’t affected our list of clients or else we’d have to do away with free food as well.
In a minute, I took the elevator to the nineteenth floor. I nodded at Zach, my executive assistant, when I got out and then walked under the vaulted ceiling to the mahogany doors at the end. I had a stack of emails that were calling for my attention when, in reality, I wished I could go down to the conference hall and let Ava question me further.
If that’s the only way I can have a conversation with her, then I’ll take it.
Ten minutes later, I was in the midst of typing out a curt response to our marketing department head when I heard Ava’s voice speaking to my assistant outside.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. McKinley,” came her muffled voice through the closed doors.
The way my mood brightened on hearing that should have been a warning to me. A warning that I was entering a territory I’d only gone to once before. But it seemed I was a fool destined to make the same mistake again because I unthinkingly ended my curt email response on a warmer note and hit Send before I got up.
I walked up to my closed doors, through which I could hear Zach’s calm response. “Ms. Hale, Mr. McKinley’s calendar shows that he is due to meet you and your team this Friday. Give me some time to?—”
“I need to discuss the recent changes he’s made at one of the restaurants he owns. When he took over The Galley, he assured us nothing would change. Well, a few days ago, he requested a design change to the restaurant’s floor plan,which delays the start of the construction work by a month. That sounds like a change to me,” came Ava’s response.
I frowned for a moment. We hadn’t requested a design change. Which meant …
