“It’s already done, kiddo. Technically I wasn’t fired, my job was eliminated and I was given the option of either taking a step down with a significant salary decrease or taking the severance package and going on my way.”
“What great choices.”
“That’s what I said, right before I took the severance and told them to shove it.”
“You didn’t,” I replied, not shocked at all.
“I sure did,” she fired back. “I helped build this place, brought in half the clients and more than half the staff. Truth is, I was thinking about retiring in a few years anyway, but it just boils my water that I’m not going out on my own terms.”
“Well, if you told them to shove it, you kind of are, right?”
She huffed out a chuckle.
“So . . .”
“So what does this mean for you?” she asked, knowing where I was going.
“Is it terrible that that’s my next question?” I asked, wincing.
“No, it’s exactly what I would ask. In fact, it is what I asked, after I got over the shock of their offer. All positions are frozen right now, wage increases frozen—”
“Promotions frozen?” I interrupted.
“You guessed it,” she said. “You should be getting an email shortly explaining who you’ll be reporting to once I’m gone, which is in two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” I breathed. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well, for now don’t say anything, just listen. You’ve got to be in the office on Monday to meet with your new boss. He’s bringing in all of the field teams except for those that are overseas. He wants to meet you all face-to-face. And let me tell you, he’s a real jackass.”
“Great,” I said, leaning my head on my hand. “Just great.”
“You’ll be fine,” she replied. “You’re great at your job, you’ve always done incredible work, and your references are impeccable. Just don’t set fire to Bryant Mountain House or do anything to make a spectacle of yourself and everything will be okay.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, not wanting to comment directly on the whole spectacle thing. “But, Barbara, what are you going to do?”
“Who knows, kiddo. I’ve been working since I was fifteen years old. Might be nice to take some time to decide. Hey, maybe I’ll get one of those herb gardens everyone’s always talking about.”
“You should come up here, we’re installing a new herb garden outside the kitchens so the chefs have access to fresh herbs all season long. Remember my friend Roxie, the chef? Her boyfriend, well, fiancé now, runs one of the biggest organic farms on the East Coast and it’s just about ten miles down the road from here. Anyway, they’re helping us reboot the gardens up here, beyond the already incredible flower gardens they have, they’re taking a dormant field down past the croquet lawn and growing all kinds of crazy stuff. Archie was the first person to suggest it, actually, he really loves the idea of taking the Mountain House back a few pegs to what it used to be. Of course, he wants everything done within budget, but oh my goodness, you should’ve seen his face when Oscar, that’s the dairy farmer in town who’s dating my friend Natalie, you remember Natalie, anyway when he brought his cows up and they started running toward the lake Archie nearly split his pants racing after them and—” I stopped, listening to myself prattle on.
“Well, listen to you,” she marveled.
Time to wrap it up. “Anyway, since you’ll have some time off, you unemployed person, you should come up and relax a bit. Let a supercute farmer teach you how to grow basil.”
“I’ll think about it,” she mused, but her tone told me she was done thinking about her predicament and already wondering what I might be up to.
“So, if I’m coming in on Monday, will you have time for lunch? If I’m fired too we can buy each other martinis.”
“You’re not fired. But I won’t say no to the martinis, or the lunch. I’d love to see you, kiddo, let’s get caught up. And remember, just stand your ground with this guy, let your work speak for itself.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded. Just like Barbara to be giving me advice during the call she had to make about her own job being eliminated. “I’m so sorry about this.”
She huffed once more, chirped out a good-bye, and hung up.
I set my phone down, sank back into the chair and stared out the big picture window at the lake. I ended up sitting there for the next three hours, watching as the sun moved across the sky and set behind the mountains. Only when the room was so dark that the lanterns flickered on did I get up and walk back to my room.
I got a text from Archie around eight thirty. Did I want to meet him up on the roof? I’d been sad sacking for several hours now, I needed something to cheer me up. A quick tussle up top should be exactly the right thing to send me off to sleep tonight.
I hurried toward the staircase, smiling to myself when I saw that the door was already cracked open, letting me know he was up there. I climbed the stairs quickly, suddenly wanting nothing in the world more than to slip into his arms and snuggle into his chest.
When did you get so schmaltzy?
Just now, when I realized that there are benefits to not being alone every night, especially the night after you just got some bad news.
“Hey,” he said, after I pushed open the door and let myself out onto the rooftop.
“Hey yourself.” I sighed, so many emotions running through me at the sight of him. Relief, gratitude, contentment, shot through with pure unadulterated lust. End of the day Archie was my favorite Archie, when the tie had been loosened and the jacket was off and hello what’s this, his shirtsleeves were even rolled up.
It was a far cry from Mr. Buttoned-Up Hotel Boss I’d seen those first days after I’d arrived up here.
I crossed the rooftop to him, a slight breeze ruffling the edge of my skirt. It had been the first really warm day so far this year, and the rooftop retained some of the heat. The air felt warm and soft and comforting, and when I reached him I slipped eagerly into his arms.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” He sighed into my hair.
“I’ve been a bit in hiding,” I admitted, loving the feel of his hands on my lower back.
“Oh boy, that’s never a good thing.” He chuckled, stepping backward to perch on the edge of the railing. He pulled me in between his knees, positioning me so that he could look into my eyes. “What’s up, Bossy?”
I debated telling him, what was the point? It’s not like he could do anything. But I wanted to tell him, wanted to engage in this end-of-the-day ritual called How Was Your Day, Dear, and be inside this ritual for the first time.
“Well, I talked to Barbara this afternoon.”
“Who’s Barbara?”
“Seriously?” I asked, crinkling my nose.
“I’ve never heard you mention her before.”
“That doesn’t even seem possible,” I mused, thinking back to all the conversations we’d had. Surely I’d mentioned her?
“You’re not really what we’d call fond of sharing.” He chuckled, grasping my hands and holding them in between us. “So who’s Barbara?”
“Huh,” I replied, still surprised that I’d never mentioned her. “Anyway, she’s my boss.”
“Got it, Barbara the boss.”
“But she’s more than that, she hired me, taught me everything I know, she basically groomed me and created this bossy hotel wunderkind you see before you today.”
“So she’s who I’d thank for your incredible sense of humility?”
“You’d have to do it fast, because she just told me she’s leaving. A bunch of people are leaving. Ever heard of The Empire Group?”
I told him everything. Who Barbara was, what she’d meant to me, how she’d literally put me on the path that I was on today. And then all about The Empire Group, the merger, and what it might mean for me.
“So you know some of the details but not all of the details, it sounds like, right?” he asked when I’d finishe
d.
“Yeah, I don’t know too much. But I know enough to be nervous about what this means for me and my job. My partnership is essentially gone, that’s for sure.”
“Well, I think until you know all the details, you shouldn’t worry.”
“Shouldn’t worry?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen the point in worrying until there’s a reason to worry. This could all work out for the best, you never know.”
“But Barbara basically got kicked to the curb,” I said, frowning.
“Well, that’s obviously terrible, but you said yourself she’s looking forward to starting an herb garden.”
“That’s not really the point, Archie.”
He clasped my hands together once more, brought them to his mouth, and kissed them. “All I’m saying is let’s worry about this when the time comes.”
“That time is kind of now. I’ve got to go into Boston on Monday to meet my new boss.”
“Perfect, you’ll get the chance to show him how fantastic you are. I’ll tell him myself, as the client you’re currently working with I can testify to how great you are.” He turned my hands over and left lingering kisses in the center of my palms. “And when I say great, I really mean great.”
He was teasing, but just the idea of him talking to my new boss, possibly somehow spilling the beans about what we’d been doing up here outside of working . . . it sent a shiver through me.
He noticed, and pulled me back into his arms. “Don’t worry about this, Bossy. I promise it’ll all work out.”
“But you don’t know that,” I told his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t spend any more time thinking about this until you know more.”
I insisted. “But what if—”
“What if Martians showed up tomorrow, Clara, and decided to blow us all away? How would you feel if that happened and you spent your last night on earth worrying over something you had no control over, instead of spending that time with me, letting me do things to you.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Letting you do things to me?”
“Preferably things where we’re both way more naked. Although I’m not picky, I bet I could work wonders even with your skirt still on,” he said seriously, one of his hands dropping down my leg and sliding up and under my skirt.
“Oh, Mr. Bryant,” I sighed, trying like hell to let go like he asked, to not worry.
Admittedly, it was easier to let go when he put his mouth on me underneath the night sky.
But I didn’t really stop worrying.
Chapter 21
“Clara Morgan? Nice to meet you, I’m Dick Stevee.”
Dick Stevee. Best name ever.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stevee,” I replied, shaking his hand as I walked into the conference room. “How are things going for you so far?” The management team had taken over two of our conference rooms while they “transitioned” into this new arrangement. Dick Stevee would be my new supervisor, and he was the one meeting with the entire field team to appraise, adjust, and make any changes as he saw fit regarding the way we ran our operations.
Here’s what I knew about Dick so far. He was efficient, clever, and made split-second decisions—not only on policy but on people. The kind of guy who if you were on his good side, then you saw him as a leader, but if you were on his bad side, then you just saw him as a—
“Call me Dick,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table. “Things are moving quickly, Clara, which is why it was so important for me to meet with you today.”
I didn’t say call me Clara, but . . .
“See, I’ve been reviewing your files, I’ve been reviewing the files of all my new employees, and I must say, very impressive.”
“Well, thank you, I try and—”
“But you take too damn long.”
I swallowed. “Excuse me?”
“You take too damn long. All of you do. Some of the changes you’ve made at these places, and the results you’ve been able to achieve, are incredible. No one is denying that.”
“Okay?” I asked.
“But we need to start achieving those results in half the time.”
“Impossible,” I said, without missing a beat.
“That’s interesting you said that, Clara, because some of the other people in your position said no problem.”
“My colleagues do good work, great work in fact, but no one has the track record I do. My success rate is flawless, the returns made on my clients’ investments are a windfall in each case, and every single one of them would hire me again.”
“And yet you take longer on every project than anyone else in this firm.”
“Some would argue that’s exactly why I have the success rate I do. I take my time.” I held my ground. I was all for making nice with my new boss, but I knew guys like this, and if they sensed a weakness, any weakness at all, you were done for.
“Take the . . . what’s the name . . .” He shuffled through his papers. “Bigelow Mountain House?”
“Bryant Mountain House,” I corrected, and he looked up at me over his glasses.
“Yes, the Bryant Mountain House. According to your initial plan you’re spending the better part of the spring up there, but based on your projections you should be practically done by now.” He slid the paperwork toward me.
“Practically done and done are two different things,” I said, not looking at the paperwork. I knew what it said, I’d drawn up the plan myself. “This is a unique property, with unique concerns. They’ve agreed to more changes than I initially anticipated, and they’re significant. To abandon them now would be to do exactly that, abandon.”
“But surely you’d circle back to check in on progress?”
“Of course. After the initial phase is complete. Which we are still weeks away from, not to mention they’re going into their busiest time of the year.”
“One week.”
“I’m sorry?” I shook my head, not understanding.
“One week, Clara, you have one week to wrap things up at the Bigelow project.”
“Bryant Mountain House, but sir, with all due respect, that’s simply not possible.”
He looked at me keenly. “I’ve chatted with three other employees today, all of whom share the same job title as you. All of whom produce not nearly the results that you do. All of whom said they can bring their projects in early. Now, I have no doubt that whatever it is you’re doing up there is incredible, but now is the time for efficiency. Did Barbara tell you about the hiring freeze? The promotion freeze?”
“She did, Dick,” I said icily, locking eyes with him, not daring to look away.
“I know she talked to you about a promotion, making you a partner. I know you’re likely the only person on staff right now who is even remotely qualified for such a position, but I also know that right now we don’t need another partner. But next year, after things have settled down?” He closed his file. “There will most certainly be an opening inside The Empire Group. Provided that employee has proven she can be a team player. Embrace the changes we’re asking everyone to make. Sacrifice now, and be rewarded down the line.”
I said nothing. I could say nothing.
“One week, Clara. Then I want you bidding for that Oakmont job down South, and I expect you to get it. We can talk details after that.”
He rose up out of his chair, and shook my hand, hard. “Nice to have met you, welcome to The Empire Group.”
Sonofabitch.
My mind was reeling the entire drive back to Bailey Falls. My stomach, however, started reeling right about the time I pulled onto I-90 West. I’d felt a little off while I was meeting with Dick Stevee, felt a little more off while I was navigating the parking lot that was driving in downtown Boston, but by the time I hit the turnpike I was just hoping to make it back to Bailey Falls before all hell broke loose.
But apparently luck wasn’t on my side today. All hell broke loose at a truck stop somewhere
between Ludlow and Chicopee when I vomited everything on my shoes in the ladies’ room. I threw up so loudly that when I came out there was a little old lady with a sympathetic look who handed me a bottle of water, which I took gratefully. It’d been ages since I’d had the flu, and for one brief and terrifying moment my brain galloped away with the idea that I was pregnant and that life as I knew it would forever be changed. I was halfway to the feminine care aisle to pee on a stick when my brain galloped back with the news that I’d started my period two days ago and was still currently enjoying the miracle of womanhood, so no, that wasn’t it.
Luckily I was only halfway to the aisle, so it was only twenty steps or so back to the ladies’ room when another round of let’s-reexamine-your-breakfast hit.
I was blazing hot yet freezing cold, I was shaky yet my back seemed locked in place, and my hands were dry while my elbows, somehow my elbows were impossibly sweating. But if I was dying, there was no way I was doing so in a bathroom at Stuckey’s. I splashed some water on my face, stumbled out to the store, bought Gatorade and a bottle of Pepto, climbed back into my stupid red convertible that I just had to have all those weeks ago, and pointed my car in the direction of Bailey Falls.
It took me another three hours to drive what should’ve taken me ninety minutes. I’d had to pull over two more times to throw up, and by the time I saw the crenellated stone roofline of Bryant Mountain House, I was pretty sure I had a fever that was high enough to concern the legions of leprechauns that had invaded my car.
I left the keys in the ignition, nodding weakly at the valet guy, took three steps inside the lobby and realized that I really didn’t need to go any farther, the sofa just to the left of reception was a lovely place to take a nap if I could just lay my head down for a . . .
I’ve been told that I face-planted on a hundred-year-old fainting couch. You couldn’t write this stuff, honestly, and that’s where Beverly from the front desk found me before my shoes had even fallen off my feet. Beverly called Jonathan, who called Archie, who whisked me away to my room like Prince Charming while I moaned and groaned wildly about red convertibles and a boss named Dick.