Chapter 2 #2
and high heels. Understated. Elegant. In charge.
And waiting.
Abby released her death grip on her chair and stood up. No matter what people might think, at work their relationship earned
her no favours. If anything, her mother was harder on her than anyone else.
She’d woken early and done her usual thirty lengths of the pool in her apartment building, and now she felt exhausted and
was starting to wish she’d prioritised sleep over exercise and checking the numbers one more time. She’d wanted to impress
her colleagues, but really their opinion didn’t matter. The Alexandra Hotel Group was a privately owned company. In the end
there was only one person she needed to impress, and that was the woman seated at the head of the table.
And in a way this felt like a waste of time. She already knew what the outcome of this presentation would be. Her mother wasn’t
sentimental. She’d want to sell.
This presentation was almost a formality. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to work in a place where her opinion
on something had an impact. Let’s ask Abby . . .
She flicked to the first slide. “The Alexandra, Cornwall.”
She started with a photograph of the hotel, which might have been a mistake because there were murmurings around the table
of how stunning the coastline was and how incredible the views.
Abby’s mind drifted for a moment, imagining herself sitting with a book, enjoying that view.
It had been a long time since she’d had a vacation.
And yes, there was work pressure, but also she wondered if the appeal of a vacation was less if you were taking it alone.
Was dinner for one at a resort in Bali really that different to having dinner alone in her apartment in Boston?
The view would be better. And there was always the possibility of meeting someone.
Maybe that was why people travelled. For possibilities.
Hearing the impatient tap of her mother’s foot on the floor, she snapped back to the present.
When she’d been pulling together the presentation she’d wondered if focusing on this particular hotel would give her mother
a moment of nostalgia given that this was the first place she’d owned, but there was no sign of anything other than professional
interest.
“I’ve done a full, detailed analysis and by almost every measure, The Alexandra, Cornwall has been underperforming. Revenue
has been down for the past four quarters, and that includes a summer season. We’re barely covering operating costs. If you
turn to page two of the document in front of you, you’ll see the summary.” She focused on facts. That was what her mother
had taught her. Never bring your emotions to work, Abby.
She didn’t allow herself to think about the people currently working at The Alexandra whose futures were in jeopardy. Instead,
she talked about the key performance indicators, detailing the occupancy rate, revenue and guest satisfaction scores. She
talked about the local market, about seasonality and economic pressures. She showed the impact of interest rates and rising
costs on their profits.
Her comments on staffing were equally factual. “The general manager had a heart attack two months ago, however revenue was
declining before he became ill.”
She continued talking and by the time she finally sat down her head was throbbing. She allowed herself a sip of water.
Everyone looked at the boss, waiting for her usual prompt response but for once the boss said nothing.
She was staring at a single page of the report.
Abby slowly lowered the glass to the table. She craned her neck, trying to see which page exactly her mother was looking at.
It would be finances, obviously. With her mother it was always finances.
Had she found a mistake?
Please don’t let me have made a mistake.
The finance director cleared his throat.
“It’s obvious that it’s time to sell. As I mentioned at the last meeting, we’ve had a generous offer from the developer who
contacted us. Generous enough that to begin with I was suspicious. I ran a few checks, but he’s legitimate. The company is
Howard Developments. He sees the potential in the site and wants to demolish the original building and build a block of holiday
homes. He seems to want it no matter the cost. Maybe there’s buried treasure that we don’t know about.” His joke fell flat
and he cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s just the position. It’s extraordinary, as you can see from the photographs. At the
price he’s offering, we’d be fools not to sell. We’ll need a more detailed analysis of course, and a conversation with the
lawyers, but selling fits with our long-term strategic goals. The next stage is for him to have a meeting with you.”
Abby waited for her mother to agree, but still she said nothing, her gaze fixed on the same page of the report.
The silence lengthened. Abby’s breathing quickened along with her pulse.
She must have missed something. But what? She was sure she’d covered every possible angle.
She braced herself for a question she hadn’t anticipated. She turned hot and then cold.
Despite the air conditioning, she was sweating.
Finally, her mother looked up. “How is the general manager’s health now?”
There was a shocked silence. Alexandra Strong wasn’t given to enquiring after anyone’s well-being and no one would have predicted
that question.
Fortunately, those facts were on record, and Abby had memorized them.
“He is still on sick leave,” Abby said. “He had a triple bypass, but there were complications. I don’t get the impression
he’ll be returning to work anytime soon. We need to consider the fact that he won’t return at all.”
“And who is the acting general manager?”
“Her name is Evie Hamilton.” Abby didn’t even need to check her notes. “She stepped up and has been covering since the GM
went off sick. This is her first senior leadership role and she’s young, but she has worked in the hotel for her whole career
and she knows the business well.” She studied her mother’s face, trying to understand what she was thinking.
She’d started this meeting sure of the outcome.
The Alexandra, Cornwall would be sold. Financially it made sense.
Her mother was nothing if not decisive. Abby had expected the decision to be final within a few minutes of her finishing her
presentation.
The finance director tapped his fingers on the table. “The developer would ideally like to meet in Cornwall, but he understands
your schedule might make that challenging and he’s willing to fly to Boston. I can arrange a meeting as early as next week.
Then we can at least get the ball rolling.”
Abby had a disturbing vision of a massive ball rolling along the picturesque clifftop and crushing The Alexandra and everyone in it.
Her mother transferred her gaze from the report to the finance director’s drumming fingers.
He stopped drumming and shifted in his chair. “If that works for you.”
There was a long pause and then finally her mother spoke.
“It doesn’t.” Her voice sounded strange, as if her throat had been rubbed by sandpaper.
Abby frowned. Was her mother ill? Something was wrong, she sensed it.
Everyone was looking at the woman at the head of the table. The finance director was sweating through his shirt.
“No? You mean no to a meeting next week? The developer felt—”
“His feelings are of no interest to me. And neither is his offer. I won’t sell to him.”
There was a stunned silence around the table.
“But his offer is—”
“I don’t care what he offers. We will not be selling.”
“You’re not even willing to hear what he has to say?” The finance director shuffled the papers in front of him. “I got the
impression he might be prepared to go even higher. If you want, I could—”
“What I want is more information on the hotel.” Her voice was steady now. Sure and certain.
More information? Something fluttered inside her. Panic? Abby was sure she’d covered everything. What had she missed? What
more information did her mother need?
She sat up a little straighter to get a better look, but she still couldn’t figure out which page her mother had been studying
so closely.
“If there are some numbers or data you think—”
“I don’t need data. The report gives us a full picture of the current financial situation. What it doesn’t tell us is why.
And before I make any final decisions on the future of our hotel in Cornwall, I want to understand why.” Alexandra closed
the report in front of her. “The location is perfect, which is why people are scrambling to buy it from us. The building is
sound. The staff are loyal, long-term employees. If it’s not working, then we need to identify why and make some changes.”
Miranda, head of people and development, scribbled a note to herself on the pad in front of her. “I can arrange individual
interviews with key staff members. We can do it remotely.”
“I want it to be in person.”
There was an uncomfortable pause as everyone anticipated a sudden and unwelcome increase in their work volume.
“I should be able to clear my schedule and head over there in the next couple of weeks. I can ask a few questions. Dig a little
deeper.” Jack, who was the UK manager, picked up his phone and checked his schedule.
Alexandra studied him for a moment, her lips pursed. “Did you visit after the general manager had his heart attack?”
“Visit? You mean in hospital?” Jack sat up straighter. “No—er—we sent flowers and a card, I believe.”
“I was asking when you last visited the hotel.”
“Ah. I’d have to check.” Jack ran his finger round the neck of his shirt. “As you know, most of my focus in recent months
has been on The Alexandra, Loch Lomond. Since it opened a year ago the growth has been astonishing. It has become the place for weddings. We are fully booked for the next two years.”
Everyone knew that Jack’s interest in the hotel was driven by his ongoing affair with the wedding and events manager.