“She immersed herself in everything,” Priya continued. “Hiring, negotiations, SOPs, performance reviews.” She removed her glasses. “When she finally became GM, no one deserved it more.”
That was when I finally understood why my father wanted me to learn from her.
I started noticingNyah more often after that. Not in an obvious way—she was careful—but I saw her. She would appear in the staff cafeteria while I was sitting with the front desk team, pass through Security while I was training for a fire drill, or step into HR while I was reviewing new employee files. Sometimes she didn’t even look at me directly. Other times, I caught her watching for just a second too long before turning away.
I knew exactly what she was doing.
Trust issues. And honestly, I couldn’t blame her.
At first, that look of disbelief on her face irked me. It felt like shewas waiting for me to slip, waiting to say,There it is. I knew it.But as the days passed, that irritation faded. Somehow, I came to appreciate it. It meant she was paying attention. It meant she was seeing the change—even if she didn’t want to admit it yet.
I started looking forward to coming to work. Not just because I was learning, but because for the first time, I felt useful and accountable. And, whether I liked it or not, I looked forward to seeing her.
What I wanted—more than approval, more than recognition—was for her to trust me. I knew that wasn’t something I could demand or shortcut. It had to be earned, one day at a time.
That weekend, the hotel was slammed. Two wedding receptions, a Bar Mitzvah, a Christening party, and two birthday parties were booked back-to-back. I came in both days instead of going out or wasting time on another meaningless date.
I saw Nyah on Saturday.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, stepping into my path. This was the first time she had spoken to me in over a month. “I would have thought you’d have some high-class party to go to. Or maybe an important golf game?” Her tone was sharp.
I knew better than to take the bait. “I came to help and learn,” I said evenly. “As you suggested… remember?”
“I don’t know what your game plan is,” she said, her eyes hard, “but I can assure you, it won’t work.”
She walked off before I could respond.
I exhaled slowly. “Hey, Caleb,” I muttered under my breath, “thanks for coming in on the weekend. We really appreciate it.”
Shaking it off, I headed into the banquet kitchen. I swapped my suit jacket for an apron and jumped in wherever I was needed—lifting trays, clearing stations, running plates, restocking supplies. No one treated me differently. No one hesitated to tell me what to do.
Later that night, I saw Nyah again, standing at the kitchen entrance—quiet and observant.
I helped load the dishwashers, laughing with the other staff as water splashed everywhere. I was having a good time. A real one.
For the first time, I understood what camaraderie actually felt like.
11
NYAH
On Sunday, I saw him again—supervising, helping, talking to staff and guests. And in semi-formal dress, no less. The Savile Row suit he’d worn the day before was probably at the cleaners after he’d gotten down and dirty with the kitchen hands.
I had put on my imaginary detective hat the day he had the flowers placed in my office. Resolved to keep my ears and eyes open, I tried to figure out what was behind the ‘nice guy’ act. My suspicions had grown further when I had seen him at the front desk checking guests in. Something didn’t add up, but watching him over the past several weeks made me think. Maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely trying to change.
Then his words came back to me like a lightning bolt.Women like you use men.I dismissed the thought immediately. Only time would tell.
Two university students who worked part-time as room service attendants had been gushing about him in the staff cafeteria. Amy overheard them and told me about it later.
“He’s really trying to change,” she said seriously, handing me a file. “I don’t think it’s an act. And it’s not just a couple of them. You should hear the rest of the staff. He even bought us coffee and pastries.”
“Us?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Did Amy really believe he’d changed? My suspicions deepened—andthen it hit me.
Money!
It made perfect sense. I knew Randall had given him an ultimatum, though I wasn’t privy to the details. He must have threatened to lock down the trust fund. No more fancy restaurants. No more international travel. That would’ve spooked him.
It’s all about the money.
