“We’ll pay for priority orders,” he notes.
“The bedrooms will take the longest, as we will give the larger rooms more of a luxury suite feel. I think the rooms will need a month. We can work in a wave so you still have a few rooms available at all times.”
“Great.”
Is he even listening?
“Are you going to say yes to everything?” I wonder.
Holden’s eyes slice straight to me as he pauses in preparing his kids for their school day. “Probably. I’ll trust you with this, just tell me when the budget goes haywire.” His gaze snaps to the clock on the oven just as a girl with braids set on the top of her head passes me and grazes my arm without concern.
“I’m here. Can I have my coffee now?” Lori slides up onto a stool next to her brother.
Holden smirks to himself. “No, because you’re only twelve.”
She scoffs. “So unfair. I’m no longer a kid.”
He gives her a doubtful look. “Oh, I know. You’ve been trying to prove that for weeks. Hence, why we lost the nanny last week.”
“Ugh, not my fault. She wouldn’t let me have my space,” Lori protests.
“She was nice,” Harry voices his opinion.
“You both put her bras in the freezer,” he deadpans, and my eyes bug out. Then Holden smiles tightly. “Well, we get nobody new since the wonderful antics of you two have gotten us banned from the agency list.” I’m beginning to feel awkward standing here. Then Holden remembers I’m present and his demeanor returns to normal. “You have the budget, and the contractor will meet you later today to go over initial ideas.”
“Great,” I say flatly because I’m still trying to digest this show in front of me.
Lori glares at me. “Who is she?”
“The hotel’s new interior designer. You don’t remember her, but you’ve met her before when I played on the ice up in Michigan for the Golds. She’s Coach Moore’s daughter,” he explains.
I give her a weak smile and a curt wave which causes her disdain to intensify.
“Fantastic. Another one to put you on a pedestal,” she says sarcastically.
Holden brings his hand to the back of his neck and tries to de-stress with utter failure.
“I need my recorder for school. We have music class today,” Harry reminds Holden.
Holden now rubs his hand over his face. “Maybe… in your room or the TV room? Check there.”
Harry stands up, ready to search. “Don’t forget my lunch.” Harry runs off while Holden looks like he is about to melt in frustration.
“Fuck me, lunch making. What the hell goes into that? The nanny normally did it,” Holden says to himself, and he massages his temples.
“Well, look at that. Someone curses and sets a perfect example for his kids,” Lori berates him.
My eyes gawk because this girl has some attitude. Now I understand why Holden is about to lose his cool on a daily basis.
“Okay.” He snaps his fingers. “Let me think. What does the nanny throw into a bag?”
Really? How does he not know? It’s simple logic what a child eats for school lunch. Isn’t it?
Ah damn, I shouldn’t get involved, but I know Holden well enough, and I’m bold in my life encounters, not always needing approval. Which is why I step forward and walk straight to him then search for the lunch bag and spot it near the fruit bowl. I’m going to assume Lori buys her lunch at school since there’s only one bag.
He doesn’t seem to notice what’s happening, as he is in a daze. “So yeah, just do what you need for the Dizzy Duck. I want to have a reveal in a few months and invite a few photographers and writers for blogs and magazines.”
I throw an apple into the bag then grab bread from the bread box. My eyes scan the kitchen for where a knife might be. Maybe I should be questioning what I’m doing more, but thinking can happen later. “In the moment” is my philosophy. But I should examine why I’m working in sync with the man in the room.
