Chapter 18 Caleb
CALEB
The next day, I met Nyah directly in the marketing office, where Elizabeth, Priya, and Will were already gathered. The room buzzed with a quiet kind of energy.
Elizabeth and Will immediately lit up as we walked them through the loyalty card concept.
Their enthusiasm was contagious, the kind that made an idea feel tangible instead of theoretical.
I delegated the task of naming the card to them, trusting their creativity without hesitation, and the approval in their expressions gave me a small jolt of pride.
They talked through the website updates next, clearly pleased with how much more streamlined and user-friendly everything had become.
Watching people respond positively to something I’d helped shape was still unfamiliar territory for me—and strangely addictive.
I turned to Priya and explained the operational changes her team would need to implement during holidays and special occasions, outlining how the partnerships with third-party websites would drive revenue during peak periods. She nodded thoughtfully, already thinking several steps ahead.
Nyah stood beside me, attentive, composed, her presence steadying in a way I hadn’t come to rely on from anyone.
Wanting—needing—to make things better between Nyah and me, I suggested we grab lunch together in the staff cafeteria.
The offer felt small but loaded, like an olive branch I wasn’t sure she’d accept. She did, though, and that gave me hope.
That hope didn’t last long.
The cafeteria was crowded, and the silence between us stretched thin and awkward.
I could feel eyes on us—curious, speculative—and it only seemed to heighten the tension.
She barely touched her food before claiming she wasn’t hungry and heading back to her office early.
I heard her stomach betray her on the way out, a quiet rumble she pretended not to notice.
I let her go, telling myself to give her space, even though the distance felt undeserved.
After a while, I walked quietly into her office. Her chair was turned away from the door, her feet propped against the windowsill, swinging slightly to the beat of music only she could hear.
The sight softened something in me. She looked… human. Vulnerable in a way she never allowed herself to be when facing me. I set a salad on her desk without a word and left.
Later, she slipped me a small note thanking me for it. I smiled when I read it, even though a dull ache still lingered beneath the surface. I was still offended—still hurt by what she seemed to think of me—but the note felt like a truce.
Over the next couple of days, as we worked together preparing the contract and presentation for the airline representatives, the discomfort between us slowly began to fade.
We bounced ideas back and forth, refining details, challenging assumptions, while Amy tried frantically to keep up with us, typing at lightning speed.
The more questions we asked, the deeper we researched, and by the time Friday approached, I felt prepared in a way I never had before. Not just informed—invested.
On Thursday afternoon, Ms. Catalina Brody and Ms. Jacqueline Fiorni checked in.
The front desk emailed Nyah and me to confirm their arrival, along with the reminder that the meeting was scheduled for noon the next day in the conference room.
Seeing their names in writing made my chest constrict. This was real now.
A half hour before the presentation, my father walked in.
“Nyah,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like Caleb to do this presentation solo. You’ll be there to support him, of course, but I want him to have the opportunity to show how far he’s come.” Then he turned to me. “I have faith that you can do this—for us, for you.”
He turned and left, and that’s when the panic set in.
We’d rehearsed this together. A dual presentation.
A safety net. I started pacing, unfastening the top button of my shirt, my breath coming too fast. “I can’t do this,” I muttered.
The pressure of knowing my father would be sitting there, watching me, judging me, made my stomach twist. “This is not going to go well.”
Nyah stepped in front of me and turned me toward her, gripping my arms firmly. She looked me straight in the eye. “All the information is in front of you. You are more than prepared. You are going to floor them with this presentation—I know it.”
Something in her certainty steadied me.
“I don’t want you thinking about this contract,” she continued softly. “You are capable of much more than this. Your father is already proud of you. Remember that. And I want you to be proud of everything you’ve achieved over the past couple of weeks.”
The knot in my throat loosened.
As she walked to the door, she shot me a mischievous wink. “Just remember to breathe and blink. No one wants a creepy-looking guy staring at them through a PowerPoint.”
I smiled despite myself.
At noon, Nyah and my father entered the conference room with the two airline representatives. Introductions were made, and we exchanged small talk about their flight and room experience while refreshments were ordered.
“Well then, shall we get started?” Ms. Brody announced in her thick English accent.
I looked at Nyah, then at my father. He silently mouthed, Good luck, and gave me a reassuring smile. Trying to hold it together, I smiled back. I knew how high the stakes were.
I started with a brief history of the hotel, followed by the history of the city.
“Vancouver is situated on the west coast of British Columbia,” I said, “and it is among Canada’s densest, most ethnically diverse cities.
” I tried to keep my voice composed as I continued, explaining that it was also a popular filming location.
I clicked the laptop to change the slide.
A picture of the airline appeared along with its company mission statement.
When I went to place the remote on the table, it slipped from my unsteady hands and fell.
I fumbled as I picked it up. “I have, um… we have prepared a presentation for you today,” I said, “to show you the products and services that our hotel will provide for the employees of your airline while they are in our care.”
For a brief moment, thoughts of running out the door and not looking back flooded my mind. I licked my lips nervously, wondering if my father would be disappointed if I lost this deal. Would he say Simon would have done a better job? Would he compare us again?
I pushed those doubts away and continued.
I talked about transportation of the crew by the Greyhound Shuttle service, supporting it by outlining the benefits the hotel would offer.
“The crew can avail discounts upon presentation of their staff ID,” I said, “of 40% on food and alcohol and 25% for spa services.”
I glanced at Nyah, and the look she gave me boosted my confidence. She had faith in me. She knew how hard I had worked. I wanted to prove myself to her, and I was determined to nail this presentation.
My breathing steadied, a lightness settling in my chest, and I began to move with confidence as I explained the following slides of the PowerPoint.
Ms. Brody jotted down notes while Ms. Fiorni smiled at me, adjusting her wide hips in her seat, her brown eyes never leaving my face.
“Free access to Wi-Fi and the fitness centre is available to all the crew,” I continued. “And finally—”
I handed them each a folder.
“Inside is the information I’ve just presented, along with an information sheet that would be provided to each crew member.
Ladies, I would now like to ask you to follow me while I show you around the hotel to see the different types of rooms we have, the lounge area, and the fitness centre. ” I led them to the door.
Nyah walked out with us before excusing herself, saying she would return shortly.
Her absence disconcerted me for a second. I pushed the wrong elevator button, but I made a quick joke about it and continued the tour. I showed them the sample rooms that had been prepared, then brought them back to the conference room where Nyah sat waiting patiently.
“Any questions?” I asked.
Ms. Fiorni asked about the percentage of taxes that would be charged.
“Fifteen percent,” I replied, “which is the standard.”
We had anticipated this question.
Ms. Brody skimmed over the package in front of her and then asked, “How much allowance should we give the crew at this destination?”
Heat rose in my neck and face, but I didn’t flinch.
Nyah slid a piece of paper toward me.
I looked at it. “Ninety dollars per day,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Ms. Brody asked, peering at me over the rim of her glasses.
Without batting an eyelid, Nyah said, “Yes, we are.”
“Very well then,” Ms. Brody said. “That was not a typical question we ask, but I thought I’d ask it anyway.” She smiled impishly. “This is great.” She tapped the package in front of her. “Ms. Fiorni and I will head back to our rooms, and we will let you know our decision by the end of the day.”
After they left, my father turned to Nyah. “Why didn’t you brief Caleb about the allowance before?” He took in a deep breath and held it. “Thank God he managed to answer confidently.” He excused himself, saying he would go for lunch and meet us later for a further debrief.
I followed Nyah out into the corridor after lunch, the words still lodged in my chest. “Why didn’t you let me tell him that it was you who gave me that figure?” I blurted, unable to hold it in any longer.
“It doesn’t matter who said what,” she replied, stopping abruptly and turning to face me. “The important thing is that the presentation went very well. You did an amazing job, and I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
Her certainty grounded me.
“By the way,” I asked, my voice softer now, “how did you come up with ninety dollars per day?”
She explained that it was the reason she had left the room. She’d run back to her office to scan through the email from Elle’s cousin, which included a breakdown of the allowances crews received while on layovers in Vancouver. With a quick calculation, she had written it down and slipped it to me.
I smiled. “Thank you… for your quick thinking. And for having my back.”
We reached my office just as Amy appeared at the door. “Ms. Brody is waiting inside.”
Nyah and Amy stayed behind as I stepped in. I saw them clasp hands outside the glass wall, their anticipation mirroring the tight coil of nerves in my chest.
I sat across from Ms. Brody, forcing myself to stay still.
“Caleb,” she said, adjusting her glasses, “I just wanted to let you know that although I still have to send it officially, Ms. Fiorni and I have reached a decision.”
My pulse thudded loudly in my ears.
“We’ve decided…” she paused deliberately, “…to choose your hotel for the airline.”
Relief exploded through me. I drew in the deepest breath I had taken all day and stood, suddenly taller. “That’s wonderful, Ms. Brody,” I said. “I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed with our partnership. Thank you so much for letting me know in advance.”
“I’ll send you an official email with the contract attached in an hour,” she replied. “Congratulations. We’re looking forward to doing business with you.”
As soon as she left, my father walked in with Nyah and Amy right behind him. I barely got the words out before my father pulled me into a tight embrace.
“I’m so proud of you, son,” he said, his voice thick. “I’m so proud of you.” He held my shoulders, his chest lifted as if he needed the world to see it. “You’ve made me so happy. I can’t wait to see you at dinner tonight.”
Nyah and Amy quietly stepped back outside, giving us the space we needed. When the door closed, the reality of what I had done truly hit home.
I had proved myself.
The pride in my father’s eyes made me regret every wasted year, every argument, every moment I’d chosen immaturity over accountability. I promised myself then that I would never go back to being that person.
When my father announced he was taking me to lunch—again—I stopped him. “I want to invite Nyah,” I said. “This contract was a joint effort. She deserves to be part of the celebration.”
I was already picturing it as I walked down the hall toward her office. I’ll order champagne at the restaurant. I smiled to myself. I’m sure she’d like that.
And for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel like something I had to outrun—it felt like something I was finally walking toward.