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—”
“You could always order a nice pot of Earl Grey and enjoy the view. But you’re on holiday. Good is for when you’re home.”
The woman caved in. “You’re right, of course. Do book us a table, Donna. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Have a happy day.” Donna waited for her to walk away and then looked at Abby, pride in her eyes.“There you go. Upselling. Point number two on the memo Evie sent.”
“You were good at it,” Abby said faintly. “I almost wanted you to book me a table, too.”
“You’re staff. No sitting down for you,” Donna said. “I had no idea that would be so much fun. Gerald never used to let us suggest anything. He said it was wrong to put any pressure on guests. But I didn’t strap her to the chair and force-feed her scones, did I? She could have said no, but she didn’t. Next I’ll persuade her to book a session at the spa.”
Abby laughed. “Go for it.” She handed the memo back. “I don’t need this, Donna. I’ve already seen it.”
“You have?”
“Yes. And sent it to the boss.”
“Right. Well, that’s good.” Donna straightened her uniform. “So you’ll tell us if there’s anything else we can do to impress her. And in the meantime, Mandy wants to know if you’re still available to clean the odd bathroom, or are you above all that now?”
Abby felt emotion build in her chest. “I wasn’t sure any of you would want to work with me again after Evie told you who I was.”
