Chapter Eight
Monday, 30 th October
Stacy stood at the kitchen window, her breakfast coffee mug clasped in both hands. You needed warmth when the butterflies in your stomach were the size of seagulls. Outside, black darkness was stretching in all directions, punctuated only by the odd bike light twinkling along the lake path and the swoop of a car headlight passing through the village. Today was the start of Project Lakeside, and oh, glory – whatever had made her think she could do this job?
First up this morning was the pre-build meeting Rico was chairing, to approve the final plans with Andi the project manager and all the heads of companies involved in the renovation. People from the building and plumbing companies were to be there, plus Karen, and Martin with the accounts. They would all be speaking Swiss German, she wouldn’t understand a thing, and this was sounding more and more like a job she wasn’t up to. What did she know about renovating wooden chalets?
Stacy’s sense of humour kicked back in. After the meeting, the rest of the week would be devoted to clearing the place of everything they were getting rid of in preparation for the builders coming in next Monday. She was as good as the next person when it came to chucking stuff into skips, wasn’t she? And now it was six forty-five a.m. and her boss had gone downstairs already. Stacy took her mug back to the table and spooned her way through a strawberry yoghurt.
The flat door opened and Rico’s footsteps came up the hallway. ‘Morning.’ He slid a mug into the machine and pressed for espresso. ‘Ready for the meeting? I’ve set up in the small conference room. The guys’ll be arriving soon.’
‘Ready. You had an early start.’
‘Welcome to Switzerland. When the builders get started, they’ll be here by seven too.’
Stacy gave him a look. ‘I guess I’d better make the most of my beauty sleep this week, then.’
He looked pleased, as he always did when she kidded with him, but said nothing, twirling his coffee spoon in one hand.
Stacy broke the silence before it became awkward. ‘I’m going to feel like a spare part at this meeting. I won’t understand a word.’
‘The main thing for you is to meet the heads of building and plumbing. I’ll translate anything vital, and tell you if you should note anything down. Take paper, in case you need it – you’ll find some at reception. I’ll have the iPad.’
‘Right.’ Stacy stood up to put her mug into the dishwasher, and Rico drained his cup.
‘I’ll see you downstairs at seven-thirty sharp.’ Whistling, he strode from the room, and the flat door banged behind him.
Stacy slumped back down in her chair. As if she was going to be late. The rapport she’d created with her little joke was gone; he’d sounded like the boss giving out orders there. Although – he wa s the boss giving out orders. And that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
***
Rico clattered down the wooden stairs, his footsteps echoing through the stairwell, but no need for silence when the hotel was empty. Martin and Karen were waiting at reception, clutching a laptop and a large folder respectively.
‘Big day, Rico.’ Martin clapped his shoulder, then looked round. ‘Where’s our Stacy?’
‘Oh, no use her coming – she wouldn’t understand a word.’ Karen lifted her bag from the reception desk and marched across to the small conference room.
Rico frowned. ‘Our Stacy’? And ‘no use her coming’? Both remarks sounded off, for different reasons.
‘Of course she’s coming. I want her to meet the team. I’ll translate anything vital.’
‘I can do that. I don’t have much input here, so I’ll have plenty of time to help Stacy.’ Martin followed Karen into the conference room as Stacy appeared from the lift.
Rico ushered her forwards to meet the two men from the carpentry and plumbing companies who were arriving through the front door with Andi the project manager, then shepherded them all into the conference room, where they settled round the table, Martin beside Stacy at one side. Rico took his place at the top of the table, fighting back a surge of panic. This was it – the last meeting before irreversible changes were made to the hotel. It was a scary thought.
Each of the men present gave a brief report, and Rico checked through the figures as they were speaking. ‘So the only decision we still need to make is the question of whether we want a hot tub outside, as well as those in the spa area?’
‘Exactly,’ said Andi. ‘My suggestion is to install the plumbing for an outdoor one, anyway. That way, you can go ahead whenever you decide, and I feel you’ll want one at some point.’
He went on to outline what this would involve, and Rico glanced round the table. Martin was muttering in Stacy’s ear, presumably translating. The two of them were all cosied up with their heads close together and Martin’s arm along the back of Stacy’s chair. Rico’s stomach lurched, then lurched again as he became aware of Karen glaring at Stacy across the table. The receptionist’s face was stony. What on earth was going on there?
Andi finished, and Rico tapped into the budget file again. ‘Martin – is all that financially okay?’
‘Yes. We’d still be within budget, even with the outside plumbing. Everything’s looking good, Rico. All you need is the weather to get the outside work completed on time.’
‘And that’s the one thing we can’t control. Can we schedule the garden work as early as possible?’
‘We’ll get it started more or less right away.’ Andi gathered his papers together. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we can sign the project off to begin next Monday morning.’
There was a general shuffle as papers were signed, and the meeting gave way to coffee and chat. The others went into a huddle over the plans laid out on the table, and Rico joined Stacy.
‘I’ll fill you in when the guys have gone.’
‘Oh, Martin did a good job translating,’ said Stacy, stepping sideways to put more milk into her coffee. Or to get away from him?
She sounded pretty glum, and Rico made a mental note to help her find a good German class. Fifteen minutes later the four men had gone, and the rest of them were left looking at a table covered in plans and empty coffee cups.
‘I’ll get the build plan on a sheet of A3, along with phone numbers and dates, and copy off a couple,’ said Karen, still speaking Swiss German.
Rico thought quickly. Best just to switch the talk to English without making a big thing of it. ‘Good idea. Can you do us a plan each, and pin another on the wall in reception? And email a copy to all renovation team members. Thanks, Karen.’
She sniffed and left the room, her arms full of papers.
Rico turned to Stacy. ‘Is Karen annoyed about something to do with you? She isn’t usually like this.’
Stacy grimaced. ‘I think – oh, it sounds silly, but I think she resents me being here. Did she want the job?’
Startled, Rico stood still. It was something he’d never considered. ‘That’s ridiculous – she couldn’t do it. We need someone with English cultural know-how, not just language skills, and Karen has no nursing qualifications. Let me think about this. We can’t have her brushing you off all the time.’
‘My battle,’ said Stacy, her chin in the air. ‘You might make things worse.’
‘My hotel, so it’s my battle too,’ said Rico. ‘I’ll have a word.’
She shook her head, frowning at him. ‘No! Don’t, please. You’d make me feel like a poor relation who needs help to cope with everyone who doesn’t love her on sight. As long as Karen and I both do our jobs, there’s no reason for you to intervene.’ She gathered up the nearest coffee cups and stomped off.
Rico followed her into the restaurant with the remaining cups. This job was funny; one minute he was chairing a meeting, next he was clearing the table. But that didn’t make him any less the hotel manager.
‘I’ll keep an eye on it, then. Meantime, your job for the next day or two is to look through all the moveable stuff from the conference rooms and the store rooms, and get everything we’re disposing of sorted out. Don’t forget the hallway storeroom. The skips arrive this afternoon.’
‘Okay. I’ll make a list as I go, and we can go over it at lunchtime.’
Rico’s heart sang. Apparently, they were lunching together. ‘I’ll make some spag, shall I? See you in the flat at twelve.’
***
Kim spread the wax cloth she used for manicures over one end of the dining room table, and set out her things. This afternoon’s customer was Yvonne Koch from the bank, who came by every few weeks to have a new set of nails applied and polished. She didn’t usually come on a Monday, but this week the bank was having a Halloween party and Yvonne wanted gory Halloween nails. This was going to be fun.
‘Coming to play at camping, Benny?’
He got up immediately, his rosy little face bright. Kim’s heart melted – what a love he was. ‘Camping’ involved two large tablecloths draped over the far end of the dining table and stretching across to the sideboard, too, creating a nice big tent for Ben to play in with his soft toys. Mama and her boring business end of the table were blocked off by a couple of chairs laid sideways, and biscuits and juice under the table were involved too. It wasn’t always a silent game, but Yvonne had three kids of her own and wouldn’t mind the commentary from Ben’s tent.
The little boy and about ten soft toys were safely installed out of sight when Yvonne arrived. Kim set to work, enjoying the adult conversation. She’d been like Yvonne once upon a time, working hard at her job all day and going to parties and events and what have you when she was off. Having kids changed your life. You loved them to bits, but they gave you a different set of priorities and took up all your free time, too. Being a mum was wonderful, but… Kim forced the thought back. She had a good life here, the best, in fact – a gorgeous husband she was crazy about, the two most adorable boys in the world and financial security so that she could look after them and do her absolute best for them.
By four o’clock, Yvonne was on her way down the garden path, and Ben was still under the table.
Kim started to replace her equipment in its box. ‘Shall we go out for a game in the garden, Benny-boy?’ He’d been an angel, bless him, barely a murmur for three-quarters of an hour.
‘I’m still making a lovely tent.’
‘That’s nice. We’ll leave it up until Eli’s home, shall we? You can play in it together while I’m getting dinner ready in the kitchen. Stacy’s coming for cheese fondue tonight.’
Kim stood still, looking from right to left. That was odd – she had twenty jumbo bottles of various colours of nail varnish, but one of the spaces in the box was empty. They’d all been occupied when she started; she’d refitted the box for the festive season only last week. Caribbean Sunset was missing, yes. And now she thought about it, the varnish smell in here was still as strong as it had been with the open bottle she’d used for Yvonne’s nails. Trepidation growing, Kim bent and peered into Ben’s tent.
‘Ben! No – what have you done?’
No wonder he’d been so quiet. One leg of Tobias’ mother’s antique mahogany table was liberally smeared with Caribbean Sunset, and the orange theme was continued on the matching sideboard at the back of the tent, too. Beside this, the mess of biscuit crumbs and the spilt syrup was insignificant. Kim yanked the nail varnish bottle out of Ben’s sticky hand and screwed it shut. This was awful; Tobias would be gutted when he saw what had happened – what she’d allowed to happen. And to think she’d been sitting not three yards away all the time her son was wreaking all this havoc. How did you get nail varnish off mahogany?
Ben’s lower lip was trembling. ‘I wanted to make it nice.’
Kim glared. He was three. Only just, but didn’t three-year-olds understand that nail varnish wasn’t for tables? Obviously not; look at the child’s face. Innocent didn’t come into it.
She crouched beside him. ‘Ben, nail varnish is for nails – finger and toe nails. And not for anything else at all. Do you understand?’
His lips were trembling, and Kim’s heart melted.
‘It’s okay. Take your toys back upstairs while I try to fix this. Daddy isn’t going to be happy when he sees it.’
Ben trailed out with a double armful of animals. Kim whisked the tablecloths back into their drawer and rearranged the chairs around the table. There. At least the room was tidy now. She opened the window to let the nail varnish smell out, and dived into the kitchen, where her phone was charging. A quick search…
Ben clumped back down the stairs, and immediately started wailing. ‘You said we could play tents when Eli came home but you’ve put it away!’
Kim didn’t stop scrolling. ‘We’ll do it tomorrow, huh? I forgot Stacy’s coming for fondue.’
‘Don’t like fondue.’
Ben stamped into the kitchen and clambered onto his chair at the table. ‘Can I have–’
Kim pre-empted the request for more biscuits. ‘You can have an apple.’
The back door banged open and Elijah raced in. ‘Daddy’s here! Come on, Ben!’
The pair vanished outside, and two minutes later returned with their father. Tobias took one look at Kim and stopped dead.
‘What’s happened?’
Deep breath, Kim. ‘No one’s hurt, don’t worry. But there’s some nail varnish on the dining table. Ben got hold of a bottle when I wasn’t looking. I’ve found a tip for removing it, though.’ She swiped on her phone to show him the website, but he barely glanced at it.
‘Hell.’
His mouth was a straight line, and Kim flinched. Tobias’ mother had died last year, and his father was long gone. Their treasured dining room furniture held so many memories for Tobias.
‘Did you have a customer today, then?’
‘Yes. Ben was playing under the table. I’m so sorry, Tobias.’ Kim put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t worry about it. Let’s have a nice evening with Stacy, and I’ll get the table fixed tomorrow, okay?’
‘I hope so.’ Tears in his eyes, he turned abruptly and went into the dining room, closing the door behind him.
‘Was Ben bad?’ Elijah had helped himself to an apple too.
‘He didn’t know it was bad. It’ll be okay, Eli. Can you and Ben go upstairs to play while Daddy and I get cleared up down here?’
The little boys vanished, and Kim buried her face in her hands. This was the worst afternoon since the day they’d nearly lost Elijah last summer.