“But we’ll come back here after.”
“We definitely will.”
She scooped up the bag and her house keys and then paused. “Wait—fish goujons?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said you make Holly fish goujons, but they’re not on the menu.”
“I know they’re not on the menu. I make them just for her. She was going through a fussy eating stage when she arrived a month ago, sending everything back to the kitchen, so she and I had a heart-to-heart about what she might enjoy. She was clear. Nothing slimy, nothing yucky, nothing smelly. My niece likes my fish goujons, so I tried those. Holly loves them. She also loves my peanut chicken wings.”
“Aren’t they smelly?”
“They’re a good smell apparently.”
“And they’re also not on the menu.”
He shrugged. “I want happy diners, and Holly knows what she likes. She might be a restaurant critic one day.”
He’d talked to a five-year-old girl about what she wanted to eat. He’d been making her food that wasn’t on the menu.
As they left the house it occurred to her that there was a strong chance that she more than liked him.
She might be falling in love with him.
17
Abby
Abby wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at work the next morning, but it certainly wasn’t Donna pouncing on her the moment she arrived.
“You need to see this—” She thrust a piece of paper into Abby’s hand.
“What is it?”
“It’s the memo Evie sent when she stepped up into the role, telling us her ideas for improving the place.”
“Yes, I’ve—”
“She’s a star is our Evie.”
“I know that, and—”
“And if people don’t listen to her, then that’s on us. And it’s going to change. Evie called everyone together. She levelled with them. Told the truth about the fact that the hotel isn’t doing as well as it should, and that we need to find ways to do better. Bit of a shock to hear it to be honest, but everyone ison board. We’re going to make this work. So you can tell the boss, or your mother or whatever you call her at work, not to write off The Alexandra, Cornwall just yet. Wait—what did you just say?”
“I said I know she’s a star. My mother also knows she’s a star. It was in my reports. And no one has written off the hotel, Donna.”
“Oh.” Donna looked thrown. “Right. Well, good. But still, you should read the memo. You probably think you already know it all, but she has some good ideas.”
“Yes, I’ve—”
“Wait a moment—” Donna interrupted her and smiled as a woman walked past. “Good morning, Mrs Beresford. How was your breakfast?”
“It was delicious, Donna.”
“That’s because Chef is a genius and he buys all the food locally. Those eggs came from our own hens. Can I tempt you and Mr Beresford to afternoon tea later? It’s going to be a beautiful day, and I can reserve you the best table on the terrace. Think about it—the strawberry jam is homemade from our own home-grown strawberries, chef’s scones are the best you will ever have tasted and don’t start me on the clotted cream.”
Mrs Beresford was almost drooling. “I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m trying to be good—”
