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Worry carved a line between her eyebrows, and I understood why. Sloane and Cooke relied on his salary from the hotel. If he were out of work, they’d struggle to get by. Yet another thing for me to fret about.

I proceeded to tell her everything, how Tristan had managed to change Fred and Nessa’s minds, making them an offer that would provide them with a comfortable retirement. How only seventy percent of the staff would get to keep their jobs.

“I guess I can understand it from Fred and Nessa’s perspectives. They can’t work forever, and the place is kind of falling apart.”

“Hey, it’s not falling apart, it just needs a little TLC, not for some fancy pants hotelier to come in and change everything that makes it special. I swear, if he tries cutting down the yew tree at the back of the building, I’ll go full on eco warrior and chain myself to the trunk.”

“Oh, no, I love that tree,” Sloane said with a frown. “I hope they don’t cut it down.”

Upstairs, I heard the shower turn off followed by the floorboards creaking as Cooke moved around. “Have you mentioned any of this to Diarmuid yet?” Sloane asked.

Diarmuid was Cooke’s first name, but my sister was the only one who ever called him that. “No, I didn’t want to worry him.”

She blew out a heavy sigh. “We’d better tell him when he comes down. If this is happening, then we need as much time as possible to prepare.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.

A small quiet fell before I spoke again. “Hey, you haven’t told Cooke about my history with Tristan, have you?”

“No, you asked me not to, remember? Although I’m not sure why it’s so important that he doesn’t remember you. It’s not like he’s still hurting over a month-long relationship that happened twenty years ago, Erin.”

That wasn’t why I didn’t want him to remember, but I’d never told Sloane the full story of Tristan and me, and I’d rather not relive it. So long as she kept things to herself, I could continue to fly under his radar and at least keep my job.

A few minutes later, Cooke came downstairs, and we broke the news.

Fred and Nessa were selling the Astor Cove, and everything was about to change. I was completely oblivious to the fact that flying under Tristan’s radar was going to be very near impossible.

4.

Erin

6 months later

It had been six months since the sale had gone through and the hotel had shut its doors for renovations. Aside from a few glimpses of the progress I’d gotten while passing by on my daily walks, I had very little idea of what they’d done to the place.

My nervous apprehension was at peak levels.

This morning was my first day back, and I was a ball of stress. According to the email that had been sent to those of us who’d managed to keep our jobs, the renovations were almost complete, with just a few finishing touches being put to things, so the hotel would be reopening to the public in a month.

That gave us four weeks to prepare, and the email stated that there would be intensive retraining, where each department would be given guidance on the new standards and requirements for working at a five-star establishment.

Needless to say, everyone’s backs were up. There was just something about the wording that made people feel like they were being looked down upon, like their previous experience wouldn’t cut it at a Balfe Hotel.

I understood their grievances, and I was stressed about the changes too, but I also couldn’t exactly complain. As management, I’d been given six months of paid leave. Most of the other employees had to find other work during the interim or temporarily sign on for unemployment. So, yeah, not too many happy campers in that regard.

Additionally, many of us were upset about those who’d been let go, namely Adelaide, head of housekeeping, and Collie, the building maintenance manager who’d been working for Fred and Nessa for almost thirty years. So, despite being relieved that we’d gotten to keep our jobs, there were also a lot of mixed feelings about the change of ownership. I predicted the retraining was going to be tough since people already had their way of doing things, and relearning was an uncomfortable experience. Fred and Nessa had opened the Astor Cove back in the early eighties, and they’d kept things mostly the same over the years, so modernisation was going to be a rough ride.

I was busy going over all these worries as I walked to work. When I reached the hotel, I paused for a moment to take everything in. On the surface, it almost looked the same, nothing had been knocked down, nor had there been any unsightly modern extension added on. The red brick had been treated and professionally cleaned, and solar panels had been installed on the roof. They’d obviously hired landscapers to redo the front of the property as well as the gardens to the rear. None of the trees had been removed, though some of them had been trimmed down. As I started walking again, I spotted Cooke pulling into a parking spot. That was another relief. My sister’s husband had managed to keep his job. Cooke had spent the last six months temping at a bistro in town while waiting for the hotel to reopen.

“You look nervous,” he said as I approached. “First day jitters?”

“More like first day fear of seeing what they’ve done to the place.”

Cooke chuckled. “It doesn’t look too bad from out here. They’ve kept your favourite yew tree. Plus, those triple-glazed windows are going to make the rooms a lot warmer. Also, I’ve no complaints about the car park redo. The newly laid tarmac is a dream. Those potholes near the entrance used to be hell on my tyres.”

“I see you’ve already been swayed,” I joked, while I still felt an uneasiness. “Judas.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to look on the bright side,” Cooke replied as he slung his arm around my shoulders, and we headed inside. I sucked in a sharp breath, stopping in my tracks as we entered the lobby.