Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
T hursday morning, Mr. Roberts called the staff in for a meeting before the start of our shifts, which meant I sat in the boardroom at 7:35, fighting the urge to yawn. The meeting started in ten minutes, and I was the only one at the table. Mr. Roberts hadn’t even arrived yet.
It wasn’t common for me to have two days off back-to-back, but after being off the schedule for both Tuesday and Wednesday, I was almost relieved to be back in Alderton-Du Ponte’s walls. Even after five years of working, I’d still never learned how to spend my days off. There were only so many TV shows to binge, only so many puzzles to put together, and only so many ways to distract myself from the emptiness of my apartment.
And that’s what Alderton-Du Ponte was. A distraction from how empty my life felt.
I’d had nothing to distract myself on Wednesday, when there was nothing but time to replay how I’d bolted from brunch. Each time it popped up in my mind, I winced. Even now. I was torn between being relieved that Annalise and Caroline hadn’t reached out after—and mortified.
Or angry.
If I was being honest, Caroline’s radio silence was a shock. I didn’t expect her to show up at the apartment or anything, but I’d been waiting on a call or text at some point. I was going to tell you, or I wasn’t sure how to go about it or something .
Instead, nothing. It left me feeling anxious, like I should’ve reached out first.
I didn’t, though. What would I even have said? It’s okay that I was blindsided by the fact that Grant is coming home? I couldn’t quite be the bigger person yet.
Wednesday, I’d had nothing but time to brew and stew and play everything over a million times in my head. Annalise, Caroline, Grant, Aaron.
Aaron.
Is this the part when you realize I’m kinda pretty?
I’ve always known .
A to-go coffee cup slammed down on the table in front of me. “Here you are,” Paige said as she slid into the open seat beside me. “Figured you’d need the pick me up.”
I sat up in my chair, smiling. “Thanks.” When I turned the cup, I found caramel mocha scrawled on the side. “You know my order?”
“We’ve worked together for six months already,” Paige said, like duh . “I know a lot of little things about you.”
I smiled down at the coffee cup, knowing that the list of everything she knew was short, and minor.
Paige tipped her own drink up, taking a long sip. “What do you think today’s meeting is about?”
“Probably the fundraiser they’re having at the end of the month.” I laid my palms on either side of my cup, savoring the heat. “Mr. Roberts probably wants to get his ducks in a row.”
Paige deflated into her chair. “The fundraisers and galas are only going to pick up from here, aren’t they? With the warmer weather?”
“Overtime paired with event pay sounds like a dream to me.”
She wasn’t satisfied. “Don’t you ever wish you could be a part of it? Partying on the dancefloor instead of serving it?”
I brought the mocha to my lips, forcing myself to take a sip that burned my tongue instead of answering. I could distinctly remember all the times that specific thought had crossed my mind, especially when Grant was still home to come to events. It’d been torture to watch him across the room, mingling with people who never gave me a second glance, knowing I couldn’t do more than offer him an hors d’oeuvre. “When has anyone from this crowd partied ?”
Paige rolled her eyes.
More staff members filtered in then, taming down our conversation to lighter topics—topics we wouldn’t get in trouble for teasing about. “Have you decided to renew your lease?” Paige asked, using her heels to swivel her chair back and forth. “When does it renew again?”
“Middle of April.” I’d forgotten all about it, actually. With Mom’s dream house going up for auction, being passed on the Christmas bonus, and everything involving the irritation of Aaron Astor, it’d slipped my mind. “And I don’t know. It depends… on what happens.” If all went smoothly, and Aaron bought me the house, I’d move into that.
I didn’t even let myself think of the alternative.
“Well, if you’re ever looking for a roommate, I’m ready to move out of my parents’ house. Maybe I just need to find me a nice, rich lover boy. That Aaron Astor guy single?”
She dropped her voice to a murmur for the last line, but it was the exact second that Mr. Roberts walked into the boardroom, and his eyes cut over to us. “Not appropriate, Ms. Schumer,” he said in a light tone, moving toward the head of the table.
Paige ducked in her seat, lifting her drink to her lips. “Sorry.”
I watched Mr. Roberts unlock his tablet, his attention engrossed in it while he waited for it to hit 7:45. I wondered if anyone had told him I’d had brunch with my friends on Tuesday. Being in his presence now, I felt bad for going against his advice, even if it hadn’t been fair.
Then again, if I’d taken his advice, I wouldn’t have found myself in the predicament with Fiona and Aaron and the stupidity of it all. Ugh.
A few more stragglers filtered into the boardroom, taking up the remaining seats or lingering against the back wall. As soon as the clock struck fifteen-til, Mr. Roberts looked up from his tablet. “Good morning,” he greeted. “Some of us really do need that fifteen extra minutes of beauty sleep, huh?”
Most of us forced a laugh at his lame joke.
“Well, let’s dive into the purpose of this meeting. Nothing major,” he assured. “But things that still need to be addressed.”
I took a drink of my mocha, the bitter taste of the coffee mixed with the sweet chocolate coating my tongue. I had a feeling I was going to need the caffeine fix.
“The Spring Has Sprung fundraiser is happening on the twenty-ninth,” Mr. Roberts said. “Not next Saturday, but the one after. Put it in your calendars. It’s the first fundraiser after the Rhythms of Hope acquisition, so we need to be on our very best behavior at the party, and every day leading up to it. The higher ups will be around to make sure the setup is going smoothly, so we need to ensure it is smooth.”
Paige looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “ Told you ,” I mouthed.
“That means, let’s try to curb call-offs, late starts, and anything like that.” Mr. Roberts looked around the room, eliciting some nods. “Let’s be a team, and we’ll get through this together.”
He had a nervous edge to his voice, even just talking about the event. Sure, it might’ve had a bit more pressure than other fundraisers in the past, with the new owners, but things went by smoothly each time. You’d think he’d be confident by now, knowing we all had it down pat.
“The fundraiser proceeds are going to Rhythms of Hope’s charity,” he continued. “And to prepare for it, we will be readying the… Du Ponte Music Hall.”
I shifted forward until my chest hit the edge of the table. “It’s being held in the music hall?” I asked, the question slipping out before I caught it.
Mr. Roberts nodded. “The mingling and dinner service will be held in the ballroom, as usual, before shifting to the music hall for the remainder of the evening. Rhythms of Hope is bringing in their orchestra to give Alderton-Du Ponte their warmest performance in thanks.”
That didn’t make any sense. Why would the board of directors push so hard to not let even Aaron and the charity see the music hall only to change their minds? Did the charity force their hand? Granted, Rhythms of Hope did have the final say. If they wanted a fundraiser to be held in the music hall, then so it would be. But still. For how unwavering the board had been on Saturday, it seemed like an easy win on the charity’s part.
I wondered if Aaron knew. They’re still playing hard to get . The board had changed their mind that much two days?
“These next two weeks are going to consist of cleaning and readying the facility, which means we’ll have to stretch a bit when it comes to where we’re stationed for the day. I’ll try to keep you to your regular positions as much as possible, but if we can try to be lenient for the next few weeks and help out where we’re needed, that’ll make everything go by much smoother.”
I glanced at Paige again, reading her gaze and agreeing. He’s warning us this will be hell .
“One more thing before I let you go to your assignments.” Mr. Roberts’s head was growing shiny, and this time, when he looked around the room, his attention landed on me. “Alderton-Du Ponte and Massey Hotel & Suites are beginning to enforce their policies on a stricter level. From now on, only members of the club may use club amenities, and that includes the restaurants and cafes. If you are not clocked in, you are not to be on the grounds of the estate for any reason. No exceptions.”
No one spoke. Paige side-eyed me, but I didn’t look away from Mr. Roberts. I knew what everyone in the boardroom was thinking. No one hung around here on their day off—no one but Lovisa Hahn. Mr. Roberts couldn’t have been more obvious in the call out if he’d tried. Someone had told him about brunch on Tuesday, but I wasn’t surprised.
I did, however, no longer feel bad about going against his advice.
The meeting adjourned, with the staff members moving off to their posts with five minutes til the top of the hour. I half expected Mr. Roberts to call me back to talk in private, but he didn’t. Which was a good thing, because I was so not in the right mood to talk to my boss.
Paige bumped my shoulder as we walked down the hallway. “Are you working Mrs. Holland’s party on Saturday?”
I nodded, gripping my to-go cup tighter. “It’s going to be another full day. Mrs. Holland wants it to be outdoors, which means another long morning of twisting linen and twinkle lights around bushes in the cold.”
I couldn’t believe it’d been only less than a week since the emergency meeting—less than a week when I discovered Aaron crouched in the rosebush. The image made me smirk a little now, knowing how refined and superior Aaron tried to present himself as. I hadn’t asked what had him scrambling into the foliage like a scared little kid, but that was definitely something I’d bring up now. I already looked forward to seeing how I could tease him about it.
The smirk slid off my face. No . I was not looking forward to seeing Aaron Astor. If anything, I was looking forward to antagonizing him, not seeing him in general. That was all.
“Does she know it’s supposed to rain?” Paige asked.
“What?”
“Mrs. Holland. Does she know it’s supposed to rain on Saturday?”
I snorted a little. “I doubt it.”
We came out of the employee wing and into the lobby of Alderton-Du Ponte, where Paige and I had to part ways. She sighed. “Wanna trade me?”
“You don’t even know what station I’m at today.”
“Anything’s better than laundry .”
I raised an eyebrow. “Even lifeguarding the indoor pool?”
The begging expression dropped. “Never mind. Pass.”
I laughed, tipping my coffee cup back, draining it. I wasn’t someone who needed caffeine to function, but it’d help to cope with the chlorine fumes and screaming children. “Well, I’ll see you?—”
“Lovisa?”
Paige and I both turned to find Aaron coming out of the hotel corridor. He had a navy quarter-zip jacket over top of a white collared shirt, a pair of sunglasses hanging from it. His cream-colored cotton shorts grazed the tops of his knees, navy athletic shoes pulling the look together. His dark hair was gelled out of his face today, and that, paired with the outfit, made him look very country club -like.
“Tennis?” I guessed.
Aaron looked down at his outfit. “Pickleball, actually. The more refined sport.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, but before I could go further, Paige bumped my shoulder—hard enough not to be accidental. “Uh, Aaron, this is Paige—she’s a floater at Alderton-Du Ponte.”
“A ridiculous title most of us have.” Paige gave a little roll of her eyes. “They like to be able to plug us wherever they need us.”
Aaron’s expression was very polite. “It’s good to meet you, Paige.” He stretched forward to offer his hand out. “Aaron Astor.”
“I know.” She shot him a smile. “Everyone around here knows who you are. Son of the biggest travel empire in the country. Should I call you to be my agent the next time I book a trip?”
He shifted on his feet, offering a complicated smile. “I’m not really involved in that sector. But if you need anything involving the Strategic Planning Department, I’d love to help you out.”
“Strategic Planning Department?” I asked, blinking at him. I couldn’t tell if it’d been a lie that slipped from his tongue, or the truth. “You… work at Astro Agencies?”
“Of course he does,” Paige said with a little scoff, nudging my arm. “He’s an Astor, after all! Astro, Astor—get it?”
His parents disowned him, but he still worked at their company? I shook my head a little. “I just didn’t?—”
I stopped midsentence, because a new song started playing over the country club’s speakers, demanding my attention. It was faint, the volume criminally low, but it was still there. The soft, aching melody seemed wholly out of place.
Alderton-Du Ponte normally played covers of pop songs that’d been transposed for piano or something similar, not real classical music, not often. But this—this was Schubert’s “ Ave Maria .” The hypnotic piano, with a cello arrangement. The notes the instruments played bit into my chest, bringing my spinning world to a standstill.
It was a well-known piece—especially the hymn—but one I rarely heard in its pure instrumental state. One I never sought, not even in my weakest moment where music called my name. There were some compositions that held memories, and this one transported me back to a time I never wanted to relive: my mother’s funeral.
It was a popular piece for funerals, especially Catholic ones, but my mom wasn’t religious. I hadn’t chosen the lyrical version, either, but a Yo-Yo Ma performance. It wasn’t heartbreaking in the way other popular compositions played at funerals were, but instead, it was a piece that was almost comforting. One that stirred your soul and left you at peace. The world was still ugly and wrong, and my mom was gone, but for the duration of the short arrangement, I’d been at peace.
Aaron leaned over a little to catch my eye. “Are you okay?”
The melody was prayer-like, the slow tempo washing over me. “This piece,” I said, as if the two words explained it all.
Aaron glanced up at the speakers. “‘ Ave Maria ,’ right?”
My gaze settled on him, the words rattling in my chest. Like I said, it was a popular composition, but in that moment, it was like Aaron slipped into a language I hadn’t heard in years, sealing Paige from our conversation, limiting to just us. Of course Aaron knew the piece by the few opening notes. Any pianist would’ve recognized the chords of “ Ave Maria .”
It shouldn’t have felt like such a startling revelation, but it was my mother’s piece, and so it was.
Aaron seemed to realize that. His eyes bounced between mine, searching for the reason as if he’d find it painted there. His lips parted, but it wasn’t his voice that filled the air.
“Aaron!”
My head was full of the notes, and I was slow to turn toward the voice, catching a glimpse of the face before the person launched themselves at Aaron. She was a flash of orange hair and a blue tennis outfit—matching Aaron perfectly. Fiona .
As Fiona wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down into a hug while the notes swelled, I didn’t move. “ Ave Maria ” was only three-minutes, and the intimate harmony of the cello and piano began to exhale to a finish. Maybe it was random. Maybe someone had finally plugged a good piece on the Alderton-Du Ponte playlist. Or maybe it was a sign.
Fiona pressed her lips to Aaron’s cheek, his body jolting, lashes fluttering with surprise, and yes —yes, it was a sign.
I’ll get your house, Mom , I thought as the bow slid across the strings for the final note. I’m almost there .
And then there was silence. The speakers were only quiet for a beat before a piano rendition of a pop song filled the air, waking me from a daze.
Fiona fell back onto her heels, gazing up at Aaron with a shy smile. “You look perfect,” she said, smoothing a hand down the front of his collar. Her fingertips tickled the sliver of his neck.
“My Californian blood will freeze, but what can you do?” His tone was teasing, and his gaze lifted over her head to meet mine.
Paige grabbed my arm then. “Enjoy your match!” she said in a voice that was way too cheerful, tugging me off toward the left, toward the hotel, away from the country club and the couple lingering in it. “Awkward. So he and Fiona really are a thing?”
I hummed a mm-hmm , because I didn’t want to speak and chase away the swell of something within me. Determination? Surety? Whatever it was had bloomed at the opening notes of the composition, budding further the moment Aaron spoke its name. If there was another world out there, I liked to think Mom sent the piece to me from it.
Almost there . I sent the thought out there again, and even though Paige had led me further from my Alderton-Du Ponte post, and I’d have to jog to get there on time, I felt lighter.
The mental image of Fiona pressing a kiss onto Aaron’s cheek wouldn’t vanish, though, no matter how many times I shook my head.