“See you then,” Whelan said. “I’ll bring the wine.”
CHAPTER 49
“Young lady?”
Livvy had just finished booking sailing lessons for a pair of teenaged brothers. She turned to see Charlie Burroughs bearing down on her with a malicious glint in his eyes.
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir?”
“I’d like a word with you, please.” He came behind the guest relations desk and showed her his cell phone.
“Do you see this? This is a one-star review posted on our website from a guest who just checked out this morning.”
Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she read the review’s headline:
THE SAINT HAS GONE TO HELL
The review was two paragraphs long. Phrases such as “terrible service” and “inedible meals” and “staff untrained, undisciplined, and unhelpful” stood out. And then there was this:
My wife and I have vacationed at the Saint for over thirty years, but this stay will most certainly be our last. The storied hotel’s formerly high standards have sunk to the abysmal level of an interstate chain motel. Despite repeated complaints to the Saint’s “guest relations” representatives, ourroom was poorly ventilated, the mattress of terrible quality, and we were subject to unbearable nuisance of ill-mannered, rude children. Add to that the horror of a murder happening on the hotel’s property! Until this hotel’s management solves these problems we will spend our time and money elsewhere.
She knew the author of the review without reading, but it was signed L.G.M., which she was positive was the work of Colonel McBee.
“Mr. Burroughs,” Livvy said, “we did everything we could to try to make that guest happy. Engineering was sent up numerous times to check on the air-conditioning. We replaced the existing mattress with a new one. I spoke to one of the housekeepers a few minutes ago. Colonel McBee accused them of rifling through Mrs. McBee’s jewelry, and after that, refused to give them entry to the room to clean it. As for the other complaints, I know he was unhappy about children, but we can’t exactly tell families that their kids can’t swim in the pool or walk past his room. Mrs. Eddings told him—”
“Mrs. Eddings doesn’t need to be involved,” Burroughs said. “You should have come to me. Now this same review is up on Yelp and Tripadvisor. It’s done untold damage to our reputation. And it makes me seriously question your ability to do your job properly.”
Livvy bit her quivering lower lip to keep from crying. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Do better,” the general manager said, and he turned and walked away.
Traci was standing in the hallway just off the lobby, watching Charlie’s heated interaction with Livvy. “Poor kid,” she murmured.
Charlie was inches from Olivia’s face, shaking a finger at her. Traci’s first instinct was to speak to Olivia and try to smooth things over, but she didn’t dare risk antagonizing her GM.
What, she wondered, had him so wound up? Colonel McBee was an irascible old crank. It was one bad review. The wording stung, but they’d had bad reviews before. They’d weathered other storms, and this one, it seemed to her, was little more than a squall. Or? Was Charlie right to be so sensitive to a bad review when the hotel’s financial footing was in question?
There was no time to dwell on that. Her cell phone was buzzing in her pocket. She sighed when she saw that the caller was her brother-in-law.
“Hi,” Traci said softly. “How are you?”
“As well as can be expected,” he said, his tone flat. “Alberta told me you were there at the house, when he passed?”
“Purely by accident. I was just going to pop in to check on him this morning, and when I got there she told me he seemed to be failing. I’m so sorry, Ric, especially after…”
“I get it,” he said, refusing to accept her sympathy. “Just letting you know I’m going to put off having any kind of a service for a while. It’s too soon.”
“I completely understand. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help out.”
“Okay.”
“Ric? Should we make some kind of announcement? To the Saint’s members? So many of them knew your dad.”
“Maybe later. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”
He disconnected abruptly. “Who doesn’t have a lot on their plate right now?” Traci wondered aloud.
Traci left a message on Andy Plankenhorn’s voice mail, then decided to walk over to the Verandah for a late lunch—and some research. Her first impression was a good one: it was close to two, but every table in the dining room was occupied.
