When she’d been pulling together the presentation she’d wondered if focusing on this particular hotel would give her mother a moment of nostalgia given that this was the first place she’d owned, but there was no sign of anything other than professional interest.
“I’ve done a full, detailed analysis and by almost every measure, The Alexandra, Cornwall has been underperforming. Revenue has been down for the past four quarters, and that includes a summer season. We’re barely covering operating costs. If you turn to page two of the document in front of you, you’ll see the summary.” She focused on facts. That was what her mother had taught her.Never bring your emotions to work, Abby.
She didn’t allow herself to think about the people currently working at The Alexandra whose futures were in jeopardy. Instead, she talked about the key performance indicators, detailing the occupancy rate, revenue and guest satisfaction scores. She talked about the local market, about seasonality and economic pressures. She showed the impact of interest rates and rising costs on their profits.
Her comments on staffing were equally factual. “The general manager had a heart attack two months ago, however revenue was declining before he became ill.”
She continued talking and by the time she finally sat down her head was throbbing. She allowed herself a sip of water.
Everyone looked at the boss, waiting for her usual prompt response but for once the boss said nothing.
She was staring at a single page of the report.
Abby slowly lowered the glass to the table. She craned her neck, trying to see which page exactly her mother was looking at. It would be finances, obviously. With her mother it was always finances.
Had she found a mistake?
Please don’t let me have made a mistake.
The finance director cleared his throat.
“It’s obvious that it’s time to sell. As I mentioned at the last meeting, we’ve had a generous offer from the developer who contacted us. Generous enough that to begin with I was suspicious. I ran a few checks, but he’s legitimate. The company is Howard Developments. He sees the potential in the site and wants to demolish the original building and build a block of holiday homes. He seems to want it no matter the cost. Maybe there’s buried treasure that we don’t know about.” His joke fell flat and he cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s just the position. It’s extraordinary, as you can see from the photographs. At the price he’s offering, we’d be fools not to sell. We’ll need a more detailed analysis of course, and a conversation with the lawyers, but selling fits with our long-term strategic goals. The next stage is for him to have a meeting with you.”
Abby waited for her mother to agree, but still she said nothing, her gaze fixed on the same page of the report.
The silence lengthened. Abby’s breathing quickened along with her pulse.
She must have missed something. But what? She was sure she’d covered every possible angle.
She braced herself for a question she hadn’t anticipated. She turned hot and then cold.
Despite the air conditioning, she was sweating.
Finally, her mother looked up. “How is the general manager’s health now?”
There was a shocked silence. Alexandra Strong wasn’t given to enquiring after anyone’s well-being and no one would have predicted that question.
Fortunately, those facts were on record, and Abby had memorized them.
“He is still on sick leave,” Abby said. “He had a triple bypass, but there were complications. I don’t get the impression he’ll be returning to work anytime soon. We need to consider the fact that he won’t return at all.”
“And who is the acting general manager?”
“Her name is Evie Hamilton.” Abby didn’t even need to check her notes. “She stepped up and has been covering since the GM went off sick. This is her first senior leadership role and she’s young, but she has worked in the hotel for her whole career and she knows the business well.” She studied her mother’s face, trying to understand what she was thinking.
She’d started this meeting sure of the outcome.
The Alexandra, Cornwall would be sold. Financially it made sense.
Her mother was nothing if not decisive. Abby had expected the decision to be final within a few minutes of her finishing her presentation.
The finance director tapped his fingers on the table. “The developer would ideally like to meet in Cornwall, but he understands your schedule might make that challenging and he’s willing to fly to Boston. I can arrange a meeting as early as next week. Then we can at least get the ball rolling.”
Abby had a disturbing vision of a massive ball rolling along the picturesque clifftop and crushing The Alexandra and everyone in it.
Her mother transferred her gaze from the report to the finance director’s drumming fingers.
He stopped drumming and shifted in his chair. “If that works for you.”
