“Gerald always believed it was important that the staff were relaxed. It makes us seem more welcoming.”
“But if no one is manning the desk then it won’t be welcoming, and—”
“Stop stressing. You put such pressure on yourself. No wonder you look tired. Now—” Mandy wielded a large knife “—large slice or small slice?”
“Small is—oh, you’re going for large. Right. Thanks.” She took the slice of cake. It was bigger than her head. She was starting to understand why Gerald had suffered a heart attack. “I might save it until later and have it with a cup of tea.”
“We can make you tea. Or something stronger? You look wrung out.”
And this was the problem of course. They were nice people. Generous and kind. Occasionally they were even reasonable at their jobs, but occasionally reasonable wasn’t enough to give the hotel the occupancy they needed or the reviews. And every time she tried to address some aspect of improving the guest experience, they either reminded her that their approach had worked fine for Gerald, or they mentioned some time in her childhood when she’d committed some hilarious infraction she’d been trying to escape ever since.
Maybe it would be easier if she had a peer she could talk to, but there was no one.
She was on her own with this. She had to keep going. Keep trying.
Or get out.
“While I have you all here it’s the perfect time to remind everyone of the importance of keeping accurate guest records.” She tried to sound firm and managerial. “We keep meticulous and detailed records on every guest so that we can make sure we deliver exactly the experience they’re looking for, and more. These should be reviewed every evening when we’re preparing for the following day’s arrivals. One of the many advantages of having such a long-established staff is thatwe have the privilege of getting to know guests over a period of many years. We are more than hotel staff, we are friends and we pride ourselves on the personal touch.”
“Don’t worry about that now, pet. Eat your cake.”
Cake wasn’t going to solve her problems, but they weren’t going to leave her office until she’d eaten it.
“Just a little taste, and I’ll save the rest for later—” Because they were all watching her expectantly she dug her fork into it and ate a small piece. It was heavenly. The flavour. The texture. The softness of the sponge against the creamy filling. It didn’t just taste delicious, it actually made her feel better about her life. “Oh...” She closed her eyes. “This is—who made this?”
Luca emerged from the back of the crowd. “That would be me.”
The laughter in his eyes and the way his cheeks creased when he smiled made her wish she’d done more than simply pull her hair into a scrunchie that morning.
Thanks to Donna she couldn’t stop thinking of the laundry cupboard.
She blanked that thought. Who cared that he was hotter than a chilli pepper? What really mattered was that he was an excellent chef. He was so talented that she was afraid that once he discovered the truth about the establishment he’d joined, he might be on the first train back to London.
Still, until that happened, she was going to make the most of eating well.
During his interview he’d produced several dishes for her to taste. She’d nibbled her way through tiny strips of seared venison in a blackberry sauce. She’d eaten broccoli that tasted nothing like any broccoli she’d ever cooked at home. By the time she’d sampled his crème brûlée she’d been ready to beg him to take the job.
He’d taken it, and the restaurant had been transformed intoan almost overnight success. They even had a waiting list for some evenings.
But it wouldn’t be enough, would it? It was too little, too late.
No matter how hard she tried to remain optimistic, it didn’t change the fact that the hotel was in trouble. And it also didn’t change the fact that no matter what she did, people were always going to see her as “our Evie.” She had so much more to give! So much more that she could be contributing. So many ideas. She wanted a chance to prove herself.
She waited until they all finally left the room and opened her laptop again.
With one eye on the door, she finished filling out the application.
Feeling like a traitor, she hit the button and submitted it without allowing herself time to do any more thinking.
There. Done.
And she had no reason to feel guilty. It was obvious that head office had no plans to sell or they would have been in touch. Things would carry on the way they always had, with or without her.
Everything was going to be fine.
2
Abby
