Chapter 1 #3
“When did you last eat something, Evie? You’re always working, that’s your problem.
Morning, noon and night you’re in this office slogging away.
And you’re so serious. You used to laugh all the time.
You’ve always been a smiler. I remember your dad pushing you through the village when you were two years old and you were waving your chubby little legs and beaming at everyone.
Every trip took him twice as long because we all wanted to cuddle you. ”
“I’m just trying to do my job, and—”
“You need to be easier on yourself,” Mandy said, “or you’ll go the same way as Gerald, God bless him.”
Evie was fond of Gerald, who was kind and avuncular and had ultimately carried the responsibility for the success or failure
of the hotel. But he’d let things slide and it wasn’t until he’d collapsed on that horrible day a couple of months ago that
she’d realised how bad things were.
In a way this whole situation was his fault, she thought, although she would never dare to voice that opinion out loud.
She’d panicked and sent an email to head office, directed to the guy in charge of UK operations. When she’d had no reply,
she’d sent another one, assuming her first email must have gone into spam.
When there had been no reply to that either, she’d left a voicemail and then given up.
Perhaps they didn’t want to help. Perhaps they’d already sold the hotel and hadn’t got round to telling the staff.
She sat up straighter. There was no evidence for any of the grim thoughts she was having. She was overthinking things.
“I hope I’m in better health than Gerald,” she said, “and I’m younger. You don’t need to worry.”
“But it’s a slippery slope. We all think you’ve been working too hard. So hard you’ve forgotten what day it is.”
Evie stared at her. “What day is it?”
But Mandy already had her head out of the door and was gesturing to whoever was outside.
A moment later her office was full of people. At a rough count it seemed like the entire staff, including Edward, her dad, who had been working as concierge for three decades. He was the longest-serving member of staff and definitely the most knowledgeable.
Emotion filled her and she felt her throat thicken.
If the hotel was sold, her dad would lose his job and that would be terrible. This place was like a home to him, and the team
a family.
None of them seemed to have any idea how bad things were. They’d trusted Gerald completely.
And now they were all smiling as they produced a large cake with eight candles blazing.
“Today is the eighth anniversary of the day you started working at the hotel,” Mandy said, “I mean full-time—I’m not counting
all the hours you put in here as a teenager. You’re so busy holding the fort you’ve forgotten. And look at you! Sitting in
the boss’s chair. We can’t believe our little Evie is all grown up.”
“Well, I—thanks.” The fact that she was sitting in the boss’s chair didn’t seem to have any impact on the way they saw her.
“We made your favourite cake, Evie. Chocolate sponge with chocolate icing, topped with chocolate buttons. I remember making
something similar for your fifth birthday. Most of it ended up on your face. I have a photo somewhere. I should try and find
it.”
“Please don’t.” Evie stood up and blew out the candles before they could set off the smoke alarm. “How thoughtful of you all.
Thank you. Er—who is on reception while you’re all in here?”
“No one, but if someone comes, they can wait for five minutes.”
“It’s important to greet guests immediately when they arrive, and—”
“Gerald always believed it was important that the staff were relaxed. It makes us seem more welcoming.”
“But if no one is manning the desk then it won’t be welcoming, and—”
“Stop stressing. You put such pressure on yourself. No wonder you look tired. Now—” Mandy wielded a large knife “—large slice
or small slice?”
“Small is—oh, you’re going for large. Right. Thanks.” She took the slice of cake. It was bigger than her head. She was starting
to understand why Gerald had suffered a heart attack. “I might save it until later and have it with a cup of tea.”
“We can make you tea. Or something stronger? You look wrung out.”
And this was the problem of course. They were nice people. Generous and kind. Occasionally they were even reasonable at their
jobs, but occasionally reasonable wasn’t enough to give the hotel the occupancy they needed or the reviews. And every time
she tried to address some aspect of improving the guest experience, they either reminded her that their approach had worked
fine for Gerald, or they mentioned some time in her childhood when she’d committed some hilarious infraction she’d been trying
to escape ever since.
Maybe it would be easier if she had a peer she could talk to, but there was no one.
She was on her own with this. She had to keep going. Keep trying.
Or get out.
“While I have you all here it’s the perfect time to remind everyone of the importance of keeping accurate guest records.
” She tried to sound firm and managerial.
“We keep meticulous and detailed records on every guest so that we can make sure we deliver exactly the experience they’re looking for, and more.
These should be reviewed every evening when we’re preparing for the following day’s arrivals.
One of the many advantages of having such a long-established staff is that we have the privilege of getting to know guests over a period of many years.
We are more than hotel staff, we are friends and we pride ourselves on the personal touch. ”
“Don’t worry about that now, pet. Eat your cake.”
Cake wasn’t going to solve her problems, but they weren’t going to leave her office until she’d eaten it.
“Just a little taste, and I’ll save the rest for later—” Because they were all watching her expectantly she dug her fork into
it and ate a small piece. It was heavenly. The flavour. The texture. The softness of the sponge against the creamy filling.
It didn’t just taste delicious, it actually made her feel better about her life. “Oh . . .” She closed her eyes. “This is—who
made this?”
Luca emerged from the back of the crowd. “That would be me.”
The laughter in his eyes and the way his cheeks creased when he smiled made her wish she’d done more than simply pull her
hair into a scrunchie that morning.
Thanks to Donna she couldn’t stop thinking of the laundry cupboard.
She blanked that thought. Who cared that he was hotter than a chilli pepper? What really mattered was that he was an excellent
chef. He was so talented that she was afraid that once he discovered the truth about the establishment he’d joined, he might
be on the first train back to London.
Still, until that happened, she was going to make the most of eating well.
During his interview he’d produced several dishes for her to taste. She’d nibbled her way through tiny strips of seared venison
in a blackberry sauce. She’d eaten broccoli that tasted nothing like any broccoli she’d ever cooked at home. By the time she’d
sampled his crème br?lée she’d been ready to beg him to take the job.
He’d taken it, and the restaurant had been transformed into an almost overnight success. They even had a waiting list for some evenings.
But it wouldn’t be enough, would it? It was too little, too late.
No matter how hard she tried to remain optimistic, it didn’t change the fact that the hotel was in trouble. And it also didn’t
change the fact that no matter what she did, people were always going to see her as “our Evie.” She had so much more to give!
So much more that she could be contributing. So many ideas. She wanted a chance to prove herself.
She waited until they all finally left the room and opened her laptop again.
With one eye on the door, she finished filling out the application.
Feeling like a traitor, she hit the button and submitted it without allowing herself time to do any more thinking.
There. Done.
And she had no reason to feel guilty. It was obvious that head office had no plans to sell or they would have been in touch.
Things would carry on the way they always had, with or without her.
Everything was going to be fine.