That has to be it.
But if that’s it, they are gone now. Sure, reporters or writers are welcome, but paparazzi can fuck right off. We do not encourage harassment against our guests.
“No, sir. We have a couple of hotel executives on vacationwith their family, but no names that would elicit this kind of attention.”
Fuck.
That’s not good.
Why would they be here?
I glance around the lobby. Gavin is now sitting with a bride and groom in one area, flipping through one of our order books.
There is another group of guests in the seating area closest to the bar.
Then there is Grace, who is walking off the elevator.
I head in her direction.
Even though we all have a shared schedule, she oddly knows everything that is going on in this place.
“Did you set up an interview or something that requires a film crew?”
She walks right by me.
“Grace,” I call her. “Did you?”
“I’m not speaking to you right now.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because,” she snaps and turns on her heel. “Something is going on with you, and you won’t tell me what it is. I saw you and Gavin whispering at the party, but you changed the subject when I walked up. I know that Gavin knows whatever is going on, because now he’s being short with me. Ergo, you’re hiding something from me and I’m mad at you.”
I take a big breath. She's right, I shouldn't be keeping things from her. Especially when Henry's final choice is less than a month away, and especially when there is a film crew here for whatever fucking reason.
But I don’t get a chance to say a word, because the film crew and their leader step into the lobby.
“Wow,” the man says into his mic while two men with cameras move around him. “Just look at this place. The marbleand dark wood don't always seem like they would make a good pair, but this place manages to pull out the elegance in a way that leaves me speechless.”
“Hi,” he says and rushes our way. “Do you work here?”
Grace smiles, and I hide all emotion on my face, although my brain is screaming for them to get the fuck out. All of our pictures are on the website. If he’s here to report on the lodge, he clearly did not do his research.
“We do,” she says in her customer service voice. “And while I’m thrilled that you’re here and recording such kind words, I do need to see your permit. One of the reasons we have been so successful is the exclusivity we offer our guests, and all video footage must be cleared in advance.”
“Of course,” the man says and then gives a signal to his team. They turn the cameras off.
And this is why Grace is made for this. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes finance and businessman.
“I apologize. I thought when I emailed copies to Mr. Richford himself that everyone would be aware of my arrival.”
I let out a huff. Grace side-eyes me.
“Our father is a very busy man who is preparing to step down next month, so you’ll have to forgive him for missing this step.”
“Stepping down—wow, that’s huge. I’d heard the rumors. Who’s taking over?”
“One of us and?—”
