Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Hattie
Hattie hurried back toward the reception area, cursing herself for not pushing Brent harder to listen to her opinion when he’d employed Stephanie and Chef Tucker.
It wasn’t that he was intentionally forceful, more that he’d overridden her with the sheer weight of his enthusiasm.
The strength of his convictions had made her doubt her own.
And after he’d died, she’d been so grief ridden, so absolutely determined to keep things the way he’d wanted them, that she’d ignored her own instincts and continued to pursue his plan.
She’d built a shrine of his ideas, kept things the same, frozen time, because that had seemed like a way of keeping a part of him alive. Brent had hired Stephanie, therefore Stephanie’s presence was a connection to Brent. But she saw now that living like that had stopped her moving on.
When you lost someone you loved, you only ever remembered the good parts.
Or that was what had happened to Hattie.
She remembered Brent’s smile, his enthusiasm, the way he said yes to everything even when he didn’t have time for anything else in his life.
The way he swept you away with the conviction that this was going to be the best thing that had ever happened to you.
But there had been bad things, too. She felt guilty even thinking that, but it was true and it was time she was honest with herself.
That confidence and conviction of his had also made him stubborn.
When she’d suggested that a country inn like theirs perhaps didn’t need a celebrity chef with enough stars to form their own galaxy, and that maybe an excellent chef keen to build his reputation might be a better idea, he’d dismissed it.
He talked constantly about reviews and once they’d opened, he’d checked the reviews feverishly.
He was determined that people would cross continents to eat in their restaurant, and stuck with that view even when she’d pointed out that if that happened then they wouldn’t have room in the restaurant to feed the guests so how would that work?
He’d appointed Stephanie as their head housekeeper because she’d worked in a five-star establishment in Boston favored by corporate types and sports stars.
He’d been impressed by her credentials, and when Hattie had pointed out that maybe giving ordinary people a really special, memorable break required a different set of skills, he’d again overruled her.
But now here they were, with no award-winning chef and no head housekeeper.
She had two choices. She could curl up and give up, which wasn’t an option because someone had to take care of the guests, or she could throw out Brent’s rulebook—his dream—and run things the way she felt they should be run.
And she knew which choice she was going to make.
All the ideas and impulses that had been held tightly inside her bubbled to the surface.
The incident with Stephanie had somehow shaken her out of her inertia.
For the first time since Brent had died she’d taken a step that had been of her choosing.
She’d shown a strength she didn’t know she was capable of showing.
And it was a step forward. If she could take that one step, then she could take others. She needed to keep moving.
“Hattie?” A young couple who had checked in the day before arrived back from a trip to town loaded down with bags stuffed with gifts.
Snow dusted their coats and they looked as if they’d just stepped straight off the set of a Christmas movie.
Most importantly, they looked happy and that, to Hattie, was the most meaningful review she could have had for the inn.
She stopped to talk to them. No matter what revelations were popping in her head, her guests always came first. “You seem to have had success with your Christmas shopping.”
“It was fabulous. I bought gifts for everyone, including Ray’s mother, and believe me, that’s the biggest challenge of all because she is not an easy woman to please.” The woman gestured to one of the bags, which obviously contained the precious item. “Thank you for the suggestion.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We have a table booked for seven fifteen,” the woman said, “but we wondered if we could push it back to eight? We wanted to wrap the gifts and make some calls and just enjoy being in the room. It’s hard to force ourselves outdoors, to be honest, because we love it here so much.
It’s not often you book a festive break and don’t want to leave the room, but that’s how we feel.
Would that annoy Chef? He seemed very put out last night when we were five minutes late. ”
Hattie wondered at what point the emotional state of her chef had started to take precedence over the wishes of her guests.
The man gave a nervous smile. “We wouldn’t want him to have a tantrum and walk out.”
A bit late for that, Hattie thought.
“That will be no problem at all,” she said. “I’ll let the kitchen know.”
Providing there was anyone left in the kitchen.
It was entirely possible that in the past hour they’d all followed Chef Tucker and left Hattie to stew in her own misery—or boil, or flambé, depending on whether you preferred your crisis to be well-done or medium rare—although hopefully Claudia would have persuaded them against that course of action.
She wished Claudia was staying.
“If there is anything I, or my team—” what’s left of it “—can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
The couple headed toward the stairs, and Hattie watched them for a moment and then walked to her office.
Erica was pulling some pages from the printer and looked up as Hattie walked into the room.
“I’ve retyped the menu—changed the layout as Claudia requested.
Take a look and let me know what you think.
” She handed them over and Hattie took the menu, trying not to be distracted by the fact that this was Erica and the whole situation was beyond weird.
She had no idea how she was supposed to react, but that was true of so much of life, or so she was discovering.
She scanned it. “You’ve called it the Winter Warmer menu?”
“It’s no longer a taster menu, so I thought we should present it as something different.
Confidently. Not as something we’ve thrown together in last-minute desperation.
It’s snowing outside. People enjoy comfort food when it’s cold, and also at Christmas.
I thought tomorrow’s menu could be Festive Feast. And maybe later in the week we could have Santa’s Supper. ”
Hattie was so focused on simply surviving the evening, she hadn’t given a thought to the rest of the week. But Erica had thought about it. Winter Warmer. Festive Feast.
“I wanted to do something similar in the beginning—fun themed evenings. I thought we could do a Swiss night, with fondue and other traditional Swiss dishes. I even thought about offering posh afternoon tea, the way they do in the big hotels in London. Finger sandwiches and amazing cakes, maybe a glass of champagne—” She stopped and shook her head.
“Sorry. Getting carried away and I need to stay focused. Thanks for the menu.”
“Wait—” Erica tapped her finger against her lips. “So what happened to your idea for Swiss night and afternoon tea? It wasn’t a success?”
“We didn’t try it. Brent didn’t think it would work. He wanted to offer a gourmet tasting menu with wine pairings. And that was popular. His idea was a good one.”
“But that doesn’t mean your idea was bad,” Erica murmured. “There is more than one good idea in the world. I’ve heard a lot about what Brent thought, but what about you? What does Hattie think?”
No one ever asked her what she thought. Everyone had just assumed she’d keep things going the way Brent had. Except Noah, of course. He’d always shown confidence in her and encouraged her to forge her own path.
Noah.
She wasn’t sure what she would have done without his support earlier. Just having him there had made things easier.
And she badly wanted to show the courage he seemed to think she possessed.
“I think I like what you’ve done with this menu. I think that once things have settled down, I’d like to explore being more creative with our dining options.”
“Good. If you want to toss around a few ideas, I’m a good listener.”
Hattie felt a flicker of excitement. It was slowly dawning on her that she could do whatever she liked. Make whatever decision she wanted to make. No one was going to stop her or tell her they had a better idea. It was both freeing and scary. The responsibility for success or failure was all hers.
She looked from the menu to Erica. “You were on your way out the door. Why are you helping me?”
“You look like someone who could use some help, so let’s start with that as a reason and tackle the rest later.
” Erica tidied up the paper stacked by the printer.
“We need to get this menu to Claudia for approval and then print them. After that, you can tell me what else needs to be done and we can throw around some ideas if that’s helpful. Do you want me to take her the menu?”
Hattie had no idea what Erica did for a living, but she was willing to bet she was good at it.
“Thank you, but I’ll do it. I should probably check on things.”
She headed to the kitchen. No matter how good Claudia was, the staff had been unsettled to have lost Chef Tucker and were probably upset by all the conflict and concerned for the future.
Braced to give another motivational speech, she pushed open the doors of the kitchen and stepped inside.
She felt the energy instantly. Everyone was busy, food was being prepared, the smells so delicious that for a moment she wished she were a guest and not the owner. And in the middle of it all was Claudia, who appeared to be everywhere at once, encouraging, demonstrating, praising and smiling.
Hattie felt a sudden burst of optimism. The ball of tension in her stomach eased.
Claudia noticed her and strode across the kitchen. “Are those our menus?”
Hattie liked her use of the word our. With Chef Tucker and Stephanie every conversation had been dominated by I. I need this. I want this.
“Yes. Erica has done a great job.”
“No surprise there.” Claudia took the menu and scanned it, checking for mistakes. “All looks good. Winter Warmer. I love it. Are you fine with all the menu changes?”
Hattie realized she’d barely looked at the content. “You’re the one in charge of that. If you think it works, then it will work.”
Claudia gave her a curious look. “Right. Good. It’s going to work, trust me.” She handed the menu back. “Erica can print these up for the tables and I’ll get back to work.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Hattie touched her arm. “You’ve saved the day.”
Just this one day, but it was a start.
“You’re the one who saved the day.” Claudia patted Hattie’s hand. “You got rid of Stephanie, and you trusted a stranger in your kitchen. Big decisions, but good ones. You need to have more faith in yourself. You’ve got this.”
Was that true?
For the first time since Brent had died Hattie felt that maybe, just maybe, she did have this. She just needed to believe in herself and stop listening to the negative voice in her head.