1
Grace Burton smiledacross the reception desk at the couple she’d just checked into the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel and slid their keycard across the counter towards them.
“You’re all set, Mr and Mrs Hargreaves,” Grace said. “Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven until ten in the morning, but as regular visitors here, I think you already know that.”
Mr Hargreaves, an older man somewhere in his early seventies judging by his distinguished silvery hair, returned her grin as he picked up the room keycard from the counter.
“We appreciate the reminder,” he said.
“I see from our booking records that you’ve reserved a table in our restaurant this evening. I hope you enjoy your meal with us.”
“The food here is delicious, and is always a highlight of our stay,” Mrs Hargreaves said. “Whenever I see that the chef has included chocolate fondant on the dessert menu, I just can’t resist.”
“Well, I’m pleased to confirm that particular dessert is on the menu this month.”
“I’m thrilled to hear it.”
Grace smiled as she printed out the couple’s booking and payment details and handed the paperwork to them. “Is there anything else I can help with before you settle into your room?”
“Yes, actually,” Mr Hargreaves said. “When is the hotel bar open until tonight?”
“Eleven-thirty,” Grace replied.
“Perfect. We’ll have time to enjoy a nightcap after dinner before turning in.”
“Once I’ve had my chocolate fondant, I doubt there will be enough room for a nightcap,” Mrs Hargreaves laughed.
“Well, we’ll just have to pace ourselves, won’t we?” her husband replied and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
Grace shared another warm laugh with the couple before wishing them a comfortable stay at the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel. As she watched them cross the lobby towards the lifts, she hoped they’d enjoy the surprise waiting for them in their room, where a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket beside an arrangement of roses and a box of luxury chocolates that were handmade by a local chocolatier specially for the hotel.
The Hargreaves were regular guests at the Hamblehurst Manor, visiting several times a year, and when Mr Hargreaves had made his latest reservation, he had added a note to his restaurant booking, requesting that champagne be served as soon as they arrived at their table for dinner and explaining that he and his wife were celebrating their wedding anniversary.
Grace had dealt with the guest request personally, and also arranged the special surprise treats now waiting in the Hargreaves’ room. The luxury five-star Hamblehurst Manor Hotel took very special care of its guests, particularly those who were frequent visitors, and Grace always enjoyed the opportunity to oversee the addition of champagne and chocolates to a guest’s room.
Dealing with such tasks was a little below her pay grade these days, and as an assistant manager in the guest experience division, she really ought to have delegated the task to someone else on her team. But Grace took tremendous pride in her job and loved the opportunity to deal with the pleasurable work of adding the complementary gifts and laying them out just so, knowing how much the guests would be thrilled to see them when they walked into the room.
Going the extra mile for the guests was what made the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel one of the most prestigious resorts in all of Hampshire, and Grace’s passion for and commitment to the hotel was the reason she’d climbed so far in her career there. Aged just twenty-nine, she was the youngest member of staff ever to be appointed to an assistant manager role. Before she hit thirty, she planned to be well on the way to securing a coveted manager position.
After closing the Hargreaves’ booking details at the reception desk computer terminal, Grace dealt with a few other administrative tasks that required her attention. As she finished her paperwork, the lobby grew busier as guests and visitors wandered towards the bar and the restaurant areas on the west wing of the ground floor. It was almost six-thirty, the peak time for those in search of an early evening apéritif before dinner.
Grace took a moment to enjoy the sight of the bustling lobby area. Elegant and opulent, the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel was a beautiful place to work. From the sleek polished marble floors of the lobby where the air was scented with the fresh herbaceous aromas from bespoke oil diffusers, to the wood panelled bar with its leather club chairs and smoked glass mirrors, to the dazzling restaurant where the perfectly set tables were lit by glittering chandeliers and the views overlooked the velvet lawns that gave way to the soft rolling hills of the South Downs, the hotel was a place of luxury and indulgence and world-class service.
When guests weren’t enjoying the fine dining and the well-stocked bar, they relaxed in the swimming pool or sauna, immersed themselves in the full-service spa where treatments and massages were in high demand, worked out in the stunning gym facilities, played tennis on one of the four outdoor courts, or took in a round of golf on the eighteen-hole course attached to the resort.
A beacon for well-heeled tourists who wanted to be pampered, the hotel also attracted professionals and business people thanks to its comfortable conference facilities, and was also a prestigious wedding venue with dedicated spaces for both ceremonies and receptions. With almost one hundred and twenty guest rooms across six floors, and with the beautiful and original Hamblehurst Manor House complemented with a sleek and sympathetic extension that more than quadrupled the resort’s footprint, the hotel was one of the jewels in the crown of the Hampshire hospitality industry and continued to be a business that went from strength to strength.
Not a day went by when Grace didn’t thank her lucky stars that this was where she got to come to work every day.
“Grace! You’re not still on shift, surely?”
Glancing up from the paperwork she was finishing behind the reception counter, Grace saw one of the deputy general managers crossing the marble floor towards her. Clive Peters had been on the hiring committee when Grace was interviewed for the entry-level reception supervisor role that had first brought her to the hotel five years ago, and he’d continued to support and mentor her progress ever since.
“I’m just finishing up,” Grace said, stacking the paperwork she’d dealt with and logging out of the reception desk computer terminal.
“You were supposed to finish over an hour ago,” Clive frowned, following her towards the staff offices locateddiscretely beyond the reception lobby. “And I know you started early today too, which means you’ve been here for nearly twelve hours. That, my dear, is more than enough for anyone.”
Grace laughed as Clive stood with his arms folded and watched while she removed her bag from the row of lockers where staff stored their personal items during shifts. When she tried to veer towards her desk on the other side of the office space for one last glance at the customer satisfaction reports she’d been analysing earlier that day, Clive caught her by the arm and steered her towards the office door.
