Chapter 12
“Traci Waci!” Madelyn Eddings bore down on Traci with a force that belied her diminutive size.
Traci reflexively ground her back molars. “Hi, Madelyn. What’s up?”
As usual, her sister-in-law was dressed to impress: dark hair coiffed high and gleaming, the jacket of her suit cut close and worn without a blouse to expose an inch of cleavage, the skirt tight and short, wicked-expensive Jimmy Choo spike heels, and as always, fluttery lash extensions and acrylic nails.
Madelyn’s voice belied her business barracuda appearance. It was breathy, babyish even. “What’s this I hear about you taking that nasty old golf cart barn and turning it into a staff dorm?”
“Ric told you, huh?”
“It would have been nice if you’d told me,” Madelyn said, pouting. “Really, Traci, I can’t believe you didn’t even consult me before you began this project. And now, Ric says it’s almost done. As director of design I should have had some input into this project.” She shook her head, conveying her deep disappointment.
“There were no design decisions to be made. A lounge, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and some bedrooms. Once I realized we needed to do something to attract summer staff, there was no time to waste.”
“Still, I should have been consulted. Window placement, flooring, bathroom fixtures, all those kinds of aesthetic decisions come under my purview,” Madelyn protested.
“Anyway, I need to talk to you about the Pederson wedding. Nathalie, our bride, hates the ballroom wallpaper. And I agree. It’s so… formal.” She tapped her pen on the notebook, cocked her head, and flashed Traci a winning smile. “And dated. It just screams nineteen fifties. I was thinking instead we install a nice grass cloth maybe, or a more contemporary paper.”
Traci cut her off. “We are not changing out the ballroom wallpaper for one spoiled-brat bride. That is a custom de Gournay mural, with all the flora and fauna native to this part of the coast. God only knows how much it cost when Helen had it installed.”
Madelyn fluttered her lashes. “You know, Traci, time does march on.” She gazed around the lobby. “We don’t want to give our guests the impression that we’re stuck in a time warp, do we? It seems to me that our post-Covid event bookings are a little… tepid. Ric thinks—”
Traci didn’t care what her brother-in-law thought about the hotel’s décor, or the health of the Saint’s event bookings. “Let me remind you that before you joined the company, we’d just finished a massive property-wide renovation project, and our designer specified that the de Gournay should stay. We spent several thousand dollars having it restored and repaired.”
Madelyn wrinkled her cute little nose.
“You don’t have to get so defensive, Traci. I realize that the restoration project was Hoke’s little baby, but really, you need to be more objective about matters like this. Ric and I are only trying to help keep our family’s legacy alive.”
Traci felt the heat rise in her cheeks at the mention of Hoke’s name. Ric and Madelyn had been attempting to meddle in the way the hotel was run ever since the plane crash.
Before her father-in-law, Fred, became totally incapacitated with Parkinson’s, he had finally caved to Ric’s demands that his wife should be given a role in the company’s management. The old man installed Madelyn as the family holding company’s “design director,” a nebulous title that seemed to allow her free rein to pass judgment on everything from the look of the Verandah’s printed menus to signage for her husband’s exclusive new townhouse development to, apparently, the appearance of the hotel ballroom. This despite the fact that the woman’s only recent job experience was as assistant manager of a high-end menswear shop.
Which was where Ric and Madelyn had met. Her brother-in- law liked to order custom tailored shirts and bespoke suits from H. Capaldi’s in Atlanta. Madelyn had apparently suited Ric just fine. They’d dated in secret until her divorce was finalized, then married quietly in Atlanta and honeymooned in Provence.
Parrish, not surprisingly, had taken an instant dislike to her new stepmother.
“Thanks for your concern, Madelyn, but you can assure Ric that the hotel is in good shape. I’ve hired a new chef for the Verandah, and earlier this week, Parrish agreed to step in as guest relations manager for the summer.”
Something flickered in the other woman’s eyes. “Parrish? That can’t be right. She’s headed for Europe. She’s already packed.”
Traci wasn’t surprised Ric hadn’t told his wife this bit of news.
“I persuaded her to put off Europe—just ’til the season’s over. Great news, right?”
Madelyn pursed her lips.
“As for the event bookings,” Traci continued, “we’ve got two new conferences coming in July, and they’ve already reserved half our rooms. And I know we have every weekend in June and July, as well as some weekdays, solidly booked with weddings. So it’s all good, right?”
“We’ll see,” Madelyn said, her tone pessimistic.
“Okay,” Traci said briskly. “Glad we had this little chat, now I need to get back to my office. But feel free to keep me updated on the new signage for the beach club.”