Chapter 8
Maya
“Holly, I’m telling you, I screwed everything up in under twenty-four hours. Mr. Evans is probably going to tell Lauren to fire me. I’ll be out of a job, and my dreams of making it in the tourism industry will be crushed forever.”
Holly and I are in the staff locker room at the end of our shift. She stands in front of me with her hands on my shoulders. “And you say I’m the dramatic one.”
I squint my eyes at that. I hadn’t planned on telling her about seeing Eddie in his Cheez-It boxers, but after he slammed the door in my face…I had no choice.
She chuckles to herself while grabbing her coat from her locker. “I can’t believe you brought him Cheez-Its after you walked in on him wearing Cheez-Its underwear.”
I bury my face in my hands. “When I saw them in the vending machine, I couldn’t help it. I thought it would make him laugh.”
“Well, it made me laugh. Maybe too soon for him though.”
I bite my lip. “I’ve learned my lesson. He’s not one to joke around with.”
Holly squats in front of me. “Time to game plan. What’s on the agenda tomorrow?”
I unfold the itinerary from my blazer pocket. “He’s scheduled to teach tennis lessons at the Winterbrook Community Center.”
“That should be interesting, considering he doesn’t like talking.”
“I know,” I pout. “If I can even get him there.”
“I mean, he obviously loves tennis. So out of all the things he has to do this week, he should like this one the most.”
I nod, hoping Holly is right. “But, that only lasts until noon. What am I supposed to do with him the rest of the day?”
Holly sits on the ground with her back against another row of lockers.
“Well, there’s skiing, sledding, ice skating, snowshoeing and even Christmas caroling.
You said he’s got a wrist injury, right?
Maybe a relaxing spa treatment would do him some good.
There are literally endless activities here. There has to be something he’ll like.”
“You’d think, but he’s different. It’s like I’m serving Scrooge this week.”
Holly smirks. “I see what you did there. Serving, because he’s a tennis player, and you’re being forced to serve him at the resort.”
“Honestly, I didn’t even mean to do that, but it’s true.”
“Well, if he is Scrooge, we need to pray that the three ghosts visit him so that he changes his ways. Got any connections to the afterlife?”
I chuckle. “Unfortunately, no.”
I can’t help but picture myself dressed up as a ghost, sneaking into Eddie’s room and scaring the crap out of him one night. That would be so satisfying. I guess I’ll keep that card in my back pocket in case push comes to shove.
Joking, I’m just joking. I would never do that. Mostly because I would get fired for pulling a shenanigan like that on a guest. But, just the thought of it raises my spirits.
“Tomorrow is a new day,” Holly says as she rises to her feet. “Maybe you got all the turbulence out of the way on day one. Ebenezer Scrooge probably just needs a good night’s sleep on Mynt’s luxurious beds.”
“You’re right. Everyone has off days. Plus, he wasn’t feeling well. I’m sure tomorrow will be better.”
Truthfully, I’m not sure my heart believes my words yet, but, hey—the power of positivity, right? I’ve gotta keep a good attitude, especially if I want to have a shot at that bonus.
At 9 a.m. the next morning, I walk through the staff entrance at the hotel.
My hair is slicked back in a bun like usual, but my outfit is not my normal pencil skirt and blazer.
Today, I get to wear black slacks and a polo shirt.
This outfit is the guest services equivalent of athletic wear.
It’s the uniform used when supervising activities that require more movement or mess.
I’ve been up since 6 a.m., which is when I got a call from Lauren. She didn’t even acknowledge my groggy morning voice. Her first words were, “What happened with Mr. Evans yesterday?”
I explained that he hadn’t felt well, but that it was just a headache. She vented that there were some very disappointed VIP tennis fans at the Mingle and Jingle. Then she said, “To make it up to them, Mr. Mynt invited them to sit at Eddie’s table during breakfast with Santa tomorrow.”
“That’s not highlighted on his itinerary.” I have his schedule seared in my brain.
“It is now,” Lauren quipped. “Get him there. And, Maya, make sure the rest of the week goes smoothly. Mr. Mynt has reiterated that you are to do whatever it takes to make sure Mr. Evans enjoys himself this week.”
I swallowed and try to sound confident. “I can do that.”
“Good. Whatever it takes,” Lauren repeated before abruptly hanging up.
I’ve worked with Lauren from time to time in the past, but never this closely.
She’s always been friendly and kind. I think the stress of the Mynt to Make a Difference week is getting to her.
Who could blame her though? Pulling off an event of this magnitude is a huge undertaking.
And if it doesn’t go well, she’ll take the brunt of the blame.
To make sure everything goes smoothly today, I spent two hours at the community center getting everything arranged for Eddie’s tennis lessons.
The nets are up, rackets out and fresh tennis balls are all lined up in their canisters.
That was the easy part. Now comes the real challenge: getting Mr. Evans there.
On my way to Eddie’s room, I notice Roger in the lobby. He waves me over with his signature jolly grin. “Good morning, Maya!”
“Morning, Roger. How has your stay been so far?”
“Wonderful. Mynt Peak Resort is amazing.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” With a slight hesitation, I ask, “How’s Mr. Evans doing? He said he had a headache yesterday.”
“Much better today. I can tell he’s excited to teach tennis lessons.”
“Really?” I’m sure I don’t hide the shock in my voice. It’s hard to imagine him being excited about anything. I quickly shift my tone. “That’s great to hear.”
Roger lifts his phone and glances at the screen. “He just texted me a moment ago saying he’s on his way down.”
“Perfect.” I stand with my shoulders back, trying to convey professional confidence. Inside, I feel like I could throw up. Why am I so nervous?
Oh that’s right, the last time I saw Eddie, I clearly upset him and he slammed the door in my face. Maya, you’re usually so great with guests. How come this guy is rattling you?
I’ll have to figure out the answer to that question later because he is strolling out of the elevator.
The sight of him causes my heart to start playing the drums. Wow, he looks good in that white polo shirt.
It’s peeking out beneath a black winter coat.
The contrast of the bright white makes his tan skin glow.
Not to mention his gray shorts that show off his extremely muscular thighs and calves.
Good thing I know he’s a grump, or I might be tempted to have a crush on Eddie Evans.
“Good morning,” he says softly, making quick eye contact with me.
“Good morning, Mr. Evans. Shall we head to the car?” Did I just use the word shall? What is wrong with me?
Eddie nods while Roger replies, “We shall,” with a grin.
At least I have one fan. Roger’s cheerful personality is a godsend.
In the car, Eddie insists that Roger sit up front while I drive us to the community center. I’m guessing Eddie is trying to stay as far away from me as possible. Roger chats away about the beauty of Winterbrook, but my backseat passenger doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.
My mind wanders to the dilemma of how to get back in Mr. Evans’s good graces. I mentally scan through Holly’s activity suggestions. What would he enjoy? I should really work up the courage to ask him. I’m not there yet though, so for now, I’m left to my own detective skills.
In my rearview mirror, I glance at Eddie. I swear his face is stuck in a permanent state of stoicism. He’s looking out the window, eyebrows furrowed, back straight, hands on his knees. The tension is oozing off of him.
Who sits in a car like that?
A guy who needs a spa day, that’s who. After all, everyone loves a spa day, right?
I’m only assuming everyone does, because I’ve never been able to afford it, but if I could I would.
I’ve walked by the spa hundreds of times.
Just the sight of the clean white walls and stone countertops wipe away my cares.
I can only imagine what a massage would do.
Someday, when I own my own business, I’ll be a regular customer.
My eyes are back on the road as we approach the Winterbrook Community Center. “Here we are,” I say after pulling into a spot. “I came in this morning and set everything up, so we should be ready to go.”
“Fantastic!” Roger says as he gets out of the car.
Eddie walks beside us in, you guessed it, silence. Oh boy, it’s going to be a rough day if this guy doesn’t start talking. Am I going to have to teach these tennis lessons? I played tennis in junior high, so I know the basics, but it’s been awhile since I’ve held a racket.
As we walk through the automatic sliding doors, the community center director approaches. “Mary,” I say, “I want to introduce you to Mr. Eddie Evans and his agent, Mr. Roger Gray.”
Mary is the sweetest lady in the world, well, besides my mom. She’s in her 60s with short white hair, but don’t let her looks fool you. She is also one of the most active people I’ve ever met. She’s the perfect person to run the community center and does an amazing job.
“So nice to meet you both,” she replies, shaking their hands.
“We are thrilled that you’d take the time to teach lessons today.
We have a small but mighty tennis program thanks to our high school coach.
He’s been hoping to expand lessons to more age groups.
All that to say, we’re so happy you’re willing to help us drum up interest in the sport. Oh look, here he is now.”