She laughed, clearly unaware of the inn’s dire straits. “Caleb, you made my day when you put a pitcher of sweet tea on your breakfast bar. I never dreamed I’d get to have my favorite drink every morning.”
Yeah, well, before long, that breakfast bar would disappear. Unless he could think of a way to entice more customers to his inn.
“Eat up and drink up, because there’s nobody here other than your crew to put away all this food.” He glanced at Sarah. “Might as well learn the bad news now. Maybe our reviews will reveal the problem.”
“What bad news? How can I help?” Ariel said, taking on his problem before he knew what it was. Then she peered into Sarah’s face. “You seem tired. Are you okay?”
Caleb glanced that way. Her eyes did look dull.
“I doubled back this morning. But I’m fine.”
“How often do you do that?”
“When we have a call-in. Maybe twice a week.”
Great. Now Ariel knew more of his ineptness in the hotel biz.
Ariel handed her plate to Caleb. “I’ll make a call, then if you want, I can meet you in the parlor in fifteen minutes to brainstorm a solution to the inn’s staffing problem and image.”
“Unfortunately, Sarah probably won’t need help handling check-ins, so okay.”
Pulling her phone from her jeans pocket, Ariel started back toward her rooms.
Fifteen minutes later, Ariel came into the parlor, where Caleb sat with his laptop, creating a few social media posts advertising a discount and free tickets to the old fort with a two-night stay. She handed him a hot mug of cream with a little coffee and a bowl of fresh strawberries and a spoon, then sat next to him. Caleb closed his laptop, tired of reading their two- and three-star reviews and rewording his ad.
“Now, about those reviews.” She opened her idea book and took notes with her fancy pen. “First, only the garden wing feels dated.”
“The new lobby furniture arrives Thursday.”
“What about the guest rooms?”
He lowered his voice. “The inn can’t upgrade them. I had to put up cash for the new lobby couches and chairs.” Might as well tell her the rest. “I’ve stuck a lot of money into this hotel since I got here. Payroll has to come out of my pocket this week too.”
“Think about this. My cousin Josie Denton Scott needs a change in her life, and you need to learn to run your business. Josie is about my age, a recent widow, and she just sold the Gatlinburg inn she and her husband owned. I called her earlier, and she’s willing to become your consultant and teach you to run your inn. If you’re interested.”
A consultant. “That’s what I need.”
Ariel laid her hand on his arm, its warmth somehow comforting. “Josie has loads of experience. She could hire more employees and manage their workloads and work on your social media. For the past five years, she’s managed ours.”
“Tell her to come for an interview. Monday, if she can.”
“Texting her now.”
When she’d finished, and Josie had confirmed their meeting, Caleb showed Ariel the weekend reviews.
“The two- and three-star reviews focus mainly on the dated rooms.” She had that look in her eye, the one that said she’d latched on to an idea. “Why not close the garden wing and use the parlor wing exclusively?”
“The parlor wing doesn’t have an elevator. Even as strong as Uncle Augo is, I don’t want him packing luggage up the stairs.”
“Fair enough. That leaves twenty rooms on this wing’s first floor.” She tapped her pen on the table in an erratic beat, then stopped suddenly as her eyes lit. “What happened to the furniture they used before the 1980s remodel?”
“Stored somewhere in this hotel, since Grandma refused to get rid of it. Probably in this wing.” He lifted his hand for a high-five. “Ariel, you might have just solved our reviews problem.”
Caleb took off for the office to grab the guest room keys. When he sprinted back into the parlor wing, Ariel stood at the top of the second-floor stairs. Checking each room in the first hallway, they found the rooms ready for occupancy, other than linens and towels. Around the corner, they found a room packed with disassembled antique poster bedframes stacked in rows. He propped open the door, and they stepped inside.
“This is the same style furniture we saw in the first-floor rooms.” Caleb squeezed through a narrow passageway between the rows. “I count sixteen bedframes.”
“You did it, Caleb. You solved your dated-rooms problem.” Ariel glanced around at the furniture. “As long as we find another room filled with mattresses.”
