“Thank you, Mere,” I touch her arm, “But no, no honeymoon. I actually came in to see if there is anything I can do. I know dad has been gone a couple months now and things seem good here.”
“They are,” she goes back to her chair, “Management have been great with the transition.”
I nod, “Well I guess I’ll just go do paperwork then.”
She gives me a smile and greets the waiting guests as I wander through the staff only doors, my heels clipping on the tiled floor until I come to a stop outside my father’s office. It used to be his name in gold on a plaque on the door but now it’s mine.
My finger traces the name,myname. Lauder, not Farrow.
With a sigh, I push on it, finding the office exactly how my father left it. There’s still a half empty bottleof whiskey on the shelf and a box of cigars on the desktop. His laptop sits in the middle of the desk, a fine layer of dust settled on the top. People had been in here but only to deposit paperwork. I wipe off the dust and pop the laptop in the top drawer before I tackle the mountain of paper in front of me.
It’s just HR business and some legal papers to sign and I get through them quickly. I wasn’t needed here, not really. It’s my hotel, my name above the door, but this place thrives on its own. My father had made it that way, but he was a businessman. He lived for this place, especially after my mother died when I was younger.
But I’m not my dad, I’m not savvy in the business world.
I just have a pretty face and an expensive last name.
I’ve only been here an hour or so, but I feel out of place. This hotel used to be a second home, but it no longer feels that way, this office doesn’t belong to me, the staff may be employed by me, but it isn’t me they report to.
Shuffling all the papers, I get up from the desk, a droop in my shoulders that wasn’t there before as I head down toward the small offices we have toward the back. I can see people working behind their desks, ensuring the smooth running of the hotel.
“Miss Lauder!” A girl from the HR department announces my presence with shock which quickly turns to a grimace, “Mrs. Farrow, I mean, my apologies.”
“Miss Lauder is fine,” I assure her. I didn’t plan on being Mrs. Farrow for long so it would be easier if everyone just called me by theright name, “I have some paperwork here, who should I give it to?”
“Oh, I’ll take that,” She smiles, holding her hands out for the stack.
I hand it over, glancing around the room but my attention gets caught by the small conference room. The door is open and a large whiteboard dominates the back wall and on it are images and color schemes, and across the top are the words, WINTER BALL, all in capitals and underlined several times.
“Oh, is that the plans for the ball?” I ask, stepping closer.
She cringes, “It is, or at least it was.”
“Was?”
“Our event coordinator quit last week,” She fiddles with her hands, “She’s the third one in the last year.”
I wince, “Shit, really? Why?”
“Too much work?” The girl shrugs.
“Sorry, I didn’t get your name,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen as her cheeks pinken before she shoves her hand out, “It’s Nora!”
“So, these plans are no longer usable?” I shake her hand as I put my attention back to the board.
“They are but we have no idea what we’re doing.” She admits, “Between that, trying to recruit a new event coordinator and our daily jobs, I don’t know how we are supposed to pull it off.”
“I know how,” I beam at her, “Me.”
“What!?”
I shrug, “Why not? I’ve planned plenty of events and god knows I need something to do.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” I start for the room, heels clipping on the floor as a newfound confidence lifts my shoulders, a sense of purpose settling in, “I’ll start right now.”
