“No. I have a little sister, although she’d floor me for describing her that way. Evie is a friend.” His gaze held hers, unflinching. “A good friend.”
Definitely a warning there.
“I’m looking forward to working with her.” She went to take the tray. “Thank you for this.”
He nodded and handed it over. “You look different without the armour.”
“Armour?”
“Heels. Suit. Pristine white shirt. Regimented hair. The intimidating corporate look. That’s what it is, isn’t it? Armour? You’re still wearing the shirt, of course, but this version is more casual.”
She realised that she was so tired she was only wearing the shirt she’d pulled on after her shower. Fortunately, it was decent, but less formal than she would have liked given her present company.
“It’s called dressing for work.”
He nodded. “Armour.” His blue gaze was so intense it was like being interrogated.
“Thank you for the food, Mr Penrose.”
“Call me Tristan, or Tris. We’re pretty informal around here.” He leaned against the door-frame. “So what is your role, exactly?”
Her conscience tingled and she had a desperate urge to glance over her shoulder to check she’d closed her laptop.
“I have amassed considerable experience working in hotels over the course of my career. I’m here to help.” It wasn’t a lie. She did intend to help.
“Right. So you’re not Gerald’s replacement. You’re not here to take Evie’s job? Because you have no idea how much she loves that place and how much it means to her.”
It was obvious that he’d step in front of a bus to protect Evie. “What does it mean to her?” She was here to get information. The perspective of an outsider might be interesting and possibly relevant.
“She virtually grew up in that hotel. Her father raised her alone so occasionally he had to take her to work with him. Evie learned to walk along those corridors. The staff took turns to babysit her. The moment she was old enough, she took a job there. Weekends. Summer holidays. Plenty of the kids around here did the same.”
And so did she.It was almost as if he’d been describing her childhood, except that in her case she’d moved from hotel to hotel as her mother had gradually built up her business.
Unsettled by the similarities between her and Evie, she dragged herself back to the present.
“Did you work at the hotel, too?”
“No. I worked for my dad in this place.” He studied her. “Evie’s dream was to run the hotel one day. When she was ten she used to play ‘hotels.’ She made herself a sign that said Evie Hamilton—General Manager, and she made people come to her with problems. She’d kill me for telling you that.”
“I’m glad you did,” Abby said. “I see now how important this is to her.”
“She’s brimming with ideas. She used to talk about what she’d do differently if she was ever promoted. It didn’t happen quite the way she was hoping it would.”
“I can see that.” And it would have been a tricky situation to handle.
“She stepped up in a crisis, so there was no celebration. Her title is ‘acting’ general manager. Which means, I assume, that sooner or later the company will be appointing a permanent general manager. It should be her.”
She felt a flicker of envy.
Evie was lucky to have someone looking out for her. And it wasn’t even a romantic relationship. It was a friendship.
Abby cast her mind over her acquaintances and tried to think of one who might go out on a limb for her. She came up blank.
Unsettled, she pushed that thought aside. “I’m not Gerald’s replacement. And my intention is to support Evie. And if the time comes when the company needs to appoint a permanent general manager, it won’t be me making the decision.”
He watched her for a moment. “You don’t give much away, do you?”
“Discretion is important in the hotel business.”
