I caught Mike’s eye across the way, and he was barely suppressing his mirth. Meanwhile, Oliver had hidden his grin behind his hand.
Nick sat up, readjusting his tie and his hair. His cheeks were as flushed as mine now and he took a deep breath, calming himself after this mortifying start to this meeting. I knew everyone else in the room, and earned a couple of sympathetic smiles. Most of them had been in their positions for at least a year except Mike, my dear friend, who was the newly appointed financial controller. But there was a weird nervousness and tension in the room, which originated from the two unknown quantities present. The Northbys.
I turned to look at Oliver, waiting for him to break the tension with his irrepressible charm. But it was Nick who started speaking first.
‘Right, well, now that everyone has decided to join us,’ Nick drawled, ‘let’s get down to it.’ He opened his notebook, and I could see a full page of meticulous notes that I suspected carried on to the next page. ‘We enter into this new phase of ownership with a change of direction. An increased focus on professionalism, integrity and service delivery will make Delacquathehotel chain travellers think of when they are choosing where to stay in Australia. Oliver’s direction for this company is new and fresh. He will drive this business to meet my standards. And my standards for our management team are extremely high. We won’t be carrying passengers.’
I looked at him, struck with awe and a little impressed by how much authority he was carrying in his voice. And while it wasn’t an effusively warm welcome, given that a single manager had swindled a significant amount of money from the business, it seemed important to set the tone and expectations. New Nick was a force to be reckoned with. But he also came across as a bit of a prick, as he spent the next forty-five minutes of the meeting interrogating everyone about their departments.
Whenever anyone would say something dumb, which inevitably everyone did given how nervous they were, he would roll his eyes and write a name down on his notepad, before peppering them with questions about figures, which there was no way they could have memorised. Eventually, Oliver would intervene, taking sympathy on the red cheeks and stammering of his management team.
‘Are you seriously telling me that you do not know off the top of your head what your budget for last year was, Christine?’ Nick fired the question towards our executive housekeeping manager, Christine Anderson (legend, mid-fifties, divorced, came out as a lesbian two years ago).
Christine would normally know these figures, and she was also a fiery bitch. I fully expected her to put him in his place. Instead, she looked as if she was about to cry.
‘Right, well, I think that will do for today. We’ll do this again at the same time next week. I’ll have Abbey send an agenda and some notes for what we are expecting,’ Oliver said.
I almost heard the internal groans.
Nick was up and out the door before anyone else even moved. Then they all filed out, dejected. Ollie tried to make small talk with a couple of them to soothe them, but the clock read five past ten on Monday morning, and his entire team was devastated.
‘I’m going to go get a coffee down the street. I’m on the mobile if you need me, Abs. Did you want one?’ he said as we left the boardroom, handing me his notes from the meeting.
‘I can get you one?’
‘No, I like to walk. It’s a nice day. Gives me time to clear my head.’
‘Okay.’
I headed back to my desk and saw that Nick had taken Oliver’s seat. I walked into the office, putting down Ollie’s notebook while his brother’s dark eyes surveyed me. He stopped typing. I could see tension in his shoulders, so I walked through to the butler’s pantry and put the kettle on.
The kitchenette was so much nicer than my kitchen at home that every time I stepped foot in it, it made me want to move in. The back wall was all attractively modern cabinet storage. There was a wine fridge hidden in there, glasses, towels. The actual kitchen side was a white marble galley. There was even a dishwasher. I reached for the good china teacups and a pot.
He walked in and leaned against the benchtop, arms folded, lovely legs crossed. The room was completely screened off from the office and we were alone together for the first time today.
‘Where’s Ollie?’
‘He went to get a coffee.’
He snorted as if that was a weakness he did not understand. I tried not to shake my head.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘I’m making you tea.’ I scooped out three teaspoons of tea into the pot and poured in the boiled water, watching the leaves dance about before shutting the lid.
‘Why?’
‘You’re stressed, and I haven’t seen you drink or eat this morning.’
‘Did you make tea for Eric Linden?’
‘No.’
‘You have something to say, Abbey. Go ahead and say it. I didn’t appreciate your eye rolling during that meeting.’
I folded my arms and took a step towards him. ‘I’m a professional, Nick. I did not eye roll once, though the urge to kick you under the table a couple of times did arise. If you felt my disapproval, maybe that was your inner voice telling you to step it back a notch. What was the point of alienating everyone in the room?’
‘I know exactly what I’m doing, Abbey.’
