“Edward!” A woman with a small dog on a lead waved to them from a path that led from the gardens. “I was hoping to see you before we went off for the afternoon.”
“Mrs Charles. And Tiddly.” Edward bent and made a fuss of the dog, a gesture that earned him a beaming smile from the dog’s owner. “How was lunch in the garden?”
“Delicious. I had the monkfish, as you suggested. Andnow Tiddly and I are going on a little trip to see the ruins at Tintagel. After all the stories you told us, we thought we should see it for ourselves. We’re hoping to catch a glimpse of Merlin’s cave.”
“Enjoy, but be careful on the paths and the rocks, Mrs Charles. It can be slippery underfoot. And keep Tiddly on a lead.”
“Is it too late for me to book a table for dinner? I asked in the restaurant and they said they were full.”
“Leave it with me,” he said smoothly. “I’ll sort something out.”
“You’re a treasure, Edward.”
They exchanged a few more words and then Mrs Charles and the dog headed off for their adventure.
Abby watched her go. “Is she a regular guest?”
“Yes. She’s staying in The Stables. Those are our dog-friendly rooms.”
Abby gazed around her. “This is a beautiful place.”
“It is. I’m sure Evie will give you a tour later.”
“And Mrs Charles has been coming for a few years?”
“Ten years. Originally with her husband, but alone since her husband died five years ago. She was nervous to be travelling solo, so Gerald contacted her personally and told her how much the team were hoping she’d return and assured her that she would be surrounded by friends.”
“Smart move,” Abby said. “Guest retention is important and far more cost-effective than trying to attract new people. Losing customers means losing revenue.”
He gave her a curious look. “Yes, although I don’t think Gerald was thinking of profitability or revenue when he made that call. He was thinking of an elderly woman who had lost her life partner and was feeling alone and afraid.”
“Of course.” It was on the tip of Abby’s tongue to say that it was obvious from the numbers that Gerald hadn’t spent anywhere near enough time thinking about profitability, but somethingin the way this man was looking at her made her swallow the words. Embarrassment crawled over her. Her mother had drilled into her that emotion shouldn’t play a part in decisions affecting the business and that sounded logical when you were sitting in a glass office staring at spreadsheets, but something close to inhumane when you were face-to-face with the people who were potentially impacted by your decisions.
She reminded herself that it was her job to maximise profit for the company. In doing so she was protecting the future of the hotels, and by extension protecting jobs. They were a commercial organisation, not a charity. The Alexandra, Cornwall had existed for so long precisely because it had been treated as a business.
Hopefully, with her help, it would continue to exist.
Her first instinct when she’d stepped onto the gravel drive-way and had her first proper look at the hotel had been that if they couldn’t make a place like this profitable they might as well give up and go home, but her mother wasn’t interested in instincts. She wanted facts, and Abby’s job was to produce those facts. She needed to maintain an element of detachment if she were to do her job properly.
Edward stood to one side and she walked through the door-way and into the hotel.
She glanced around her, and noticed that some of the flowers in the large display on the reception desk were past their best. “You’ve worked here for a long time. Has it changed much over the years?”
“A great deal, but that’s to be expected. In my experience nothing in life stays the same however much we would like it to.”
“And your experience must be invaluable. I’m sure you know many of the hotel’s secrets.”
His gaze settled on hers. “I know a few of them.”
Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel faintly uneasy. She’d made a casual comment. Small talk to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic of profits. She hadn’t thought for a moment that this place had secrets. Occupancy challenges, yes. Staffing issues, definitely. Secrets?
She decided to keep it light. “Are you about to tell me the place is haunted? Should I be on the lookout for ghosts?”
He smiled. “We hide our ghosts and I like to think that all secrets are safe here. Discretion is an essential feature of all good hotels, don’t you agree? If you’re worried your deepest secrets will be revealed, Ms Jones, don’t be.”
“Call me Abby. And I don’t have secrets.” That wasn’t strictly true, of course. Guilt nibbled at the edges of her conscience. She should never have agreed to do this job undercover. She wasn’t built for subterfuge. She should have insisted on being honest about who she was right from the start and if that meant it was harder to get to the bottom of how the place was run, so be it.
He studied her for a moment. “Everyone has secrets, Ms Jones.” He walked to the reception desk which was unmanned and helped himself to a key. “I’m going to store your luggage for now and give Evie a call.”
