Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Avril
I watch the bare trees whizz past as I gaze out of the train window.
I’ve never even considered going from New York to Boston by train.
I’ve always flown. But the visit to Grand Central with Ben made me wonder why I’d never tried it.
It’s a long journey—three and a half hours, and it departed from Penn Station, which is a lot less romantic than Grand Central, but I rocked up fifteen minutes before the train left the station, didn’t have the journey to the airport, and will get right into central Boston when I arrive.
Plus I can work on the train. If I pull myself away from the view.
I figure it actually doesn’t take more time than flying if you factor everything in.
Except that it’s still a long time.
I got the first train out of New York at five thirty this morning and I don’t arrive until nine.
When Ben said he was out this evening with his brother, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to go up to Boston.
I won’t be back until around nine tonight.
I have meetings with realtors all over town, and I’m also going to make sure I stop by some of the big hotels and grab myself a cup of coffee.
I figure it’s research and, hey, maybe one of the staff members will tell me the building is up for sale.
It’s not likely, but you never know. It’s going to be a long day, and there’s going to be more of them if we manage to actually get a place up here.
Ben East is supposed to be able to fix any problem, and even though I’m adhering to the terms of his bargain—I’m absolutely definitely not in love with Ben East—I’m still not sure how he can help.
He can’t pin down the owner of the building and force him to sell, even if he does manage to track him down.
But Worth seems to think Ben is the key to everything.
Or maybe he’s just saying that, so I’ll give up when Ben can’t deliver what I want.
The train pulls up slightly earlier than scheduled and I’m at the offices of my realtor in ten minutes.
“Good to see you,” Freddie says, as he meets me in reception.
“And you. Have you had any progress on reaching the seller?”
“Still nothing.”
“When did you last reach out to their realtor?” I ask.
“Last week. They know we’re keen. We really haven’t put ourselves in the best negotiating position if the seller was ever to reappear. They know we’re very interested.”
I sigh. It’s a good point that I hadn’t really thought about.
“But you’ve got some other places for me to see today?” I ask. Freddie said if I came up to Boston, he could arrange a few viewings.
“I do. In fact, the first building is the one we’re standing in. Let me give you a tour.”
“But it’s not a hotel at the moment?”
“No, but having spoken to the planning department, there’s a good chance you’d be successful in getting the permits to convert it.
And it’s a good space for tourist and business use.
You’re smack-dab between the Four Seasons and the Newbury and you’re offering a cool, fresh alternative with views of the Common. ”
What Freddie is saying might be right, but I don’t want to convert a building again, and Worth doesn’t either. “But converting a building is a lot. I’ve done it before and it takes a long time. And it’s a big risk.”
“I couldn’t not tell you about it. It’s such a good position.”
I smile at him, but it’s an I-hope-it-gets-better-from-here smile, although I’m not sure Freddie’s picking up on that. If Ben were here right now, he’d know a way of communicating that this wasn’t an option without offending Freddie.
“Our next stop is downtown,” Freddie says.
We head out of the building I just entered and into a cab that’s waiting for us on the curb. Boston is so different. Even the air smells different here, and the traffic is somehow less…aggressive. The city is just waking up while New York has been buzzing for hours already. It’s a world away.
It takes about five minutes to get to our next viewing. I get out of the green-and-white cab and am pleased to see a sign for The Royalton. I think. At least it’s already a hotel.
“This is the only place on the market where the building is actually up for sale, as well as the lease of the hotel.”
“Okay,” I say, looking up at the building. It’s definitely not a five-star hotel. But maybe it could be.
“Keep an open mind,” Freddie says. “You have very specific requirements and it’s going to take a little compromise.”
That doesn’t sound like the words of someone who knows he’s found the right property. It sounds like someone grasping for straws.
“The hotel manager knows we’re coming and he’s going to show us around.”
We climb the five steps to the entrance. Already that’s not great in terms of accessibility and it’s right on the street.
“There’s a lot of steps. Is there scope for a ramp?” I ask.
“I believe the city turned down their last application. But you never know.”
My heart sinks a little in my chest.
We head into the dimly lit foyer. It feels more like a bed-and-breakfast than a hotel. It’s small, and only made worse by the oversized reception desk that’s got dents and scratches all over it.
I glance at Freddie to see if he has any suggestions. But he’s not looking at me, and I kind of think it’s on purpose.
“There are a hundred and twenty rooms here,” Freddie says, just before he tells the woman at reception that we’re here to see the hotel manager.
A tall man with gray hair and ruddy cheeks appears before the receptionist has a chance to call anyone.
“Freddie,” he booms. “How great to see you. And you’re Ms. Huntington.
” He grabs my hand with both of his. “Good to meet you. I’m delighted to show you the Tea Party Hotel. I’m Sean, the general manager here.”
And then I realize that he sees this as a job interview. He thinks I’m here to take on the Tea Party and carry on business as usual and just collect my checks. “How long have you been the general manager?” I ask him.
He chuckles. “Fifteen years. I know this place like the back of my hand.”
I nod, like I’m appreciating what he’s saying. But in the unlikely event Worth would buy this place, Sean wouldn’t continue as the general manager. We try to project understated glamor rather than avuncular familiarity.
“Well, I’m looking forward to the tour,” I say.
“There are fifteen single rooms,” Sean says, just before he opens a bedroom door on the first floor of the building.
“Single rooms?” I ask, wondering how small a single room might be. At Hotel on Ninth Street, we charge by the room rather than by the occupancy of the room. Business travelers are usually on their own, but they have a double room. There are no single rooms in Hotel on Ninth Street.
Sean gestures for me to go inside, and I try not let the shock I feel show on my face. The room is tiny. The bed is not much bigger than a twin. How is that even possible? “Okay,” I say. “This is smaller than I’m used to seeing.”
“We actually have really good occupancy rates for our single rooms,” Sean says. “And we charge around seventy percent of a standard double room.”
“And are all the singles situated together?” I ask.
“They are spread out between the floors,” Sean says.
I turn and look around. “What’s next door?” I ask.
“This side?” he asks.
“Either side.”
“It’s one of our nicest rooms,” he says. “But it’s occupied.”
I turn to Freddie. “Do we have the floor plans?”
Freddie shakes his head. “I’ve requested them.”
“And you say there are fifteen of these single rooms.” That takes the room number down to near a hundred. It’s not a horrible number of rooms. But it’s likely more would be sacrificed.
“Fifteen. Yes,” Sean says.
Next we see a standard double, which again is very small, even by New York standards.
This place is a three-star hotel and it shows by the room size.
I don’t think we could make it what we’d want, without halving the room numbers.
We’d want more suites, not singles. We’d have to reduce it to below eighty. It just wouldn’t be profitable.
I know the figures like the back of my hand, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing that Ben was here.
I’d be able to talk him through it, convince him that I was right, and he’d ask me some questions that would make me think about things a little differently and it would make me like him a bit better.
But Ben’s not here. He’s having drinks with his brother tonight rather than trying to get me to fall in love with him. Which is excellent. Better for me.
When we’ve been through the various room types, we get a tour of the other first-floor common rooms. A small, stuffy dining room with views of the building behind. A bar that’s clearly very rarely used. There’s no space for a restaurant or any conference space. It just doesn’t work.
And Freddie said it was the only place where the building was on the market. There are no other options. I have to make damn sure I don’t fall in love with Ben East anytime soon.