Mastering Maeve

by Tara Finnegan

  Maeve dressed in her usual uniform of knee-length black skirt and white blouse and wished that instead of her trademark figure-hugging pencil line skirts, she had one that allowed a little more ease of movement. Every move she made caused the skirt to rub against her tender behind. Her main concern now was that he would not be in the restaurant for dinner this evening. That would be too much degradation to bear in one day; she really needed some space to deal with her mixed bag of emotions. Maeve already knew he intended seeing her in the bar after her shift, but she’d try to keep away.

  Naturally, Lady Luck had abandoned her and Larry and his father were indeed at dinner. She managed to fob them off on another waitress and made sure she was constantly busy. It annoyed her that every time she managed a surreptitious glance, Mr Big Bully Williamson the Fourth seemed to be studying her. She was so not ready to deal with him yet. She really needed to talk this through with someone, but who the hell did you discuss such a thing with? The only one she could even conceive discussing it with—Orla, her roommate from college and best friend—was on holiday in Spain. Even at a push, if she considered her other college roomies, they were on their way to the U.S. and it wasn’t exactly an email type conversation. For the first time since she had finally come to terms with losing her parents, Maeve felt totally and utterly alone.

  It was a huge relief to her when she saw the two men finally leave the dining room. She had thought they’d never go. It was only then that she realised that she had been half-holding her breath all evening. Jaysus! This was complicated. Maeve knew she would have to show a bit more bravado if she was to put him in his box. But somehow just seeing Mr Slap-Happy Williamson the Fourth had her like a meek little pussycat. She knew she’d have to get over this ridiculous timidity by the next time she saw him or he would feel he’d won.

  “You’re to cover the bar when you’re done. Mary has to leave early,” Bridie informed her as she cleared away the last remaining dishes.

  Maeve wasn’t one bit impressed. Her ass was still stinging, she was emotionally drained, and she had been up since nine a.m. having only gone to bed at four. No doubt it would be after two a.m. by the time the diehards were ready to give up the ghost. As long as it was only the locals and not that damn American, she would just about manage to keep something resembling a smile on her face.

  She grimaced as she entered the bar and the traditional Irish music blasted her out of it. She had completely forgotten what day it was. It had all the hallmarks of a late night as the best of the local traditional Irish music bands always played the last Friday of every month in the bar and the session never ended early. And of course all of the residents were there, including the Americans. On the plus side though, the bar was busy so Maeve knew she would have no time to do anything more than dole out drinks and smiles. She couldn’t help furtively casting a sidelong glance in his direction every so often.

  He was handsome for a man of his age, she supposed, in that all-American, clean-cut, square-jawed kind of way. But when he thought nobody was looking, he had a solemn stern look that she didn’t quite warm to. He was perfectly capable of turning on the charm offensive in company, but she felt that the brooding look was probably more natural to him. His dad, on the other hand, had an easy smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. She felt much more at ease with him, happy to be on a first-name basis with him, whereas she still hadn’t a clue what to call his son, even though he could be no more than nine or ten years older than she was. He just didn’t invite familiarity. And yet he’d had the cheek to call her ‘honey’ earlier after abusing her like that. How dare he ‘honey’ her? She drove these thoughts out of her head as a customer ordered a round of seven drinks to be memorised. She had to keep her eye on the ball. When he came to order a couple of drinks, she refused to smile, even when he offered her one.

  “No, thank you, I’m working,” she replied with an icy chill. She left his tip sitting on the counter. She didn’t want his guilt offerings, at least not paltry ones. She’d go for the big prize if she decided to pursue justice.

  The music finally stopped at one a.m. and the locals slowly started moving out. Eventually most of the residents went to bed, including Lawrence Senior. But his son stayed on. He seemed to be determined to outstay all the other customers. Maeve dodged him as long as she could, but finally he was the last person remaining. It really annoyed her when he started picking up the empties and bringing them to the bar counter. She didn’t need his company or his help. Could he not just take the hint and feck off to bed like any normal resident? She was really flagging at this stage and in no mood to make polite conversation with anyone, let alone him.

  “How are you? You look tired,” he asked.

  “I am tired, it’s been a long day, so if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get cleared up and go to bed,” Maeve replied. She couldn’t quite believe her own bravado; she would normally never consider addressing a guest in such an abrupt manner, but she felt he had lost his rights to normal guest status. She kept moving, filling the glass washer noisily; trying to mask the silence with the sound of clanging to deter him from speaking any further.

  “About the hotel…” he started loudly, trying to out-shout the racket she was making.

  “I think you made it quite clear this morning that the hotel was not your concern. Now if you don’t mind, I’m finished clearing up, and going to bed.”

  Maeve’s heart was pounding. She knew Mr Contrary-Arse Williamson the Fourth could still save the business, but she needed him to think she didn’t actually care; she didn’t want him to realise he had that much control. And anyway, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to save it badly enough to work with him after what had happened earlier. Granny might be upset to lose everything, but some things were more important than money, like her ass for instance. What if he did that again? Don’t even think about it, Maeve! Be cool, calm, and collected, she told herself. She could feel the flush rising to her cheeks as the thoughts of her earlier predicament came flooding back into her mind. It was definitely time for bed.

  “I may be prepared to reconsider my stance on the hotel, but we need to go through a few ground rules first.”

  “Right this minute I don’t think anything would induce me to work with you, but rather than make a hasty decision based on today, I think I had better get a night’s sleep. That’s as much discussion as I’m having about it tonight, Mr Williamson.” She saw the swagger leave him and she felt vaguely self-satisfied. Good enough for the arsehole, she thought smugly, mentally making a tick on her side of her imaginary scoreboard.

  The one advantage to the long day meant that Maeve was too exhausted to think. Before she knew it, it was morning time; a new day and things didn’t look quite so grim.

  Chapter Three

  Breakfast was a paltry affair. After the late night music, most of the guests didn’t make it down. But of course the two Texans did. As she filled their cups with aromatic freshly brewed coffee, Larry started at her again. She was more fit for him this morning.

  “I wonder if I might have a little of your time to discuss the future of the hotel this morning, Maeve?” he started as soon as the pleasantries of the day had been exchanged.

  “Sure. Shall we say four o’clock? I tend to take my break around then,” she replied in what she hoped was a brisk, business-like tone.

  “Four o’clock is fine, thank you. We can arrange to be back from our trip by then. Is that ok with you, Daddy?” His father nodded his assent and Maeve backed away from the table, but not before he heard the older man say to the younger:

  “What’s going on, I thought you were pulling out?”

  “I think the young lady and I may have come to some sort of an understanding of each other,” she heard him reply. Without looking, Maeve was certain she could feel his eyes boring into her behind. Understanding my backside, she thought, more like a confidentiality clause. She was beginning to realise that maybe now it was she in the driving seat, and s
he kind of liked it.

  Maeve made sure she was punctual for their meeting… just. Exactly as the old grandfather clock in the hall chimed for the fourth time, she entered the residents lounge. Mr I’m-so-punctual Williamson the Fourth was impatiently pacing the floor waiting. She put on her brightest smile as she came up with his current moniker. She was glad she had taken the time to shower and change out of her uniform, appearing in a pretty floral short-sleeved blouse and pair of tight-fitting jeans that she knew showed her figure to its best advantage. A little makeup enhanced rather than altered her fresh Irish cailin look; Maeve wasn’t beyond using her feminine appearance to mask the tiger underneath. She had managed it all to perfection and she enjoyed her moment of victory.

  “Not late, am I?” she breezed, sensing his impatience but knowing that try as he might, he couldn’t fault her timekeeping.

  “No, just on time,” he smiled through gritted teeth. Maeve was emboldened by the tension in his tone.

  “So, Mr Williamson, what did you want to discuss?” She cut to the chase.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Larry, if we’re going to be in business together?” he asked.

  “I’m more comfortable with Mr Williamson, if it’s all the same with you; I’d prefer not to get too intimate,” Maeve replied. She really hoped he got the sarcasm dripping from her tone. It really didn’t get much more intimate than being upended across his lap for an almost bare-bottomed spanking, but that had been an enforced intimacy, not one she had invited, and definitely not one she intended to recur. The age gap didn’t seem so great now, not since she was back in control.

  She absolutely refused to let herself think of the compromising position she had been in just twenty-four short hours ago. Instead, she studied Larry Williamson. She couldn’t deny his good looks and lean and manly body. His blue eyes could cut her down one minute, or could be aflame with laughter another. Again she noticed those workaday hands, big as shovels and the strength was obvious in every sinew. But in spite of the hard work that they were obviously accustomed to, his nails were neatly trimmed, clean, and well cared for. He was a paradox of rugged and sophisticated. His vocabulary indicated a good education, but his weathered look suggested he had an outdoor job. It was obvious he had money if he was considering investing in the business. Under different circumstances Maeve would have definitely been interested in getting to know him better, to satisfy her curiosity about him.

  He had put a kybosh on that and now, frankly, she was somewhat afraid of him. Yet, in spite of her fear, there was an onus on her to hear him out for her grandmother’s sake. In a way she felt she was standing between her granny and the poorhouse. But her instincts screamed at her to keep away from him. He was dangerous, not least because she honestly couldn’t analyse how she felt about him. While she feared him, she realised she was beginning to develop an almost morbid attraction towards him.

  “It would be a lot easier to work with you if we could at least try to be friends,” Larry suggested hopefully.

  “Let’s get one thing clear, Mr Williamson. I accept I may have brought a little of it on myself by slapping you first, but my friends are not in the habit of assaulting me in such an intimate manner, and if they did, I would no longer consider them friends. What I feel towards you right this minute is a small measure of gratitude that you are considering saving the hotel, coupled with enough knowledge of you not to push the boundaries again. Mainly though what I feel about you is fear, and fear will never be the basis for a friendship,” Maeve replied, her determined tone confirming the resoluteness showing in her stubborn chin. “And there is one thing I wish to make absolutely clear before we pursue any type of business arrangement, if you repeat that behaviour, I will press charges. I’m letting it pass this time because I lashed out first. And one other thing—I’d prefer if Granny was present for any future meetings; it is her business after all, not mine.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, we can see if she is available now, or we can defer this until a time that is suitable for her,” Larry agreed. Maeve thought he looked a little relieved at getting the issue of the spanking out in the open and he even seemed to be regarding her with a grudging admiration.

  “Give me five minutes to see what she’s up to,” Maeve quickly responded, clutching at the proffered straw, and went running off to find Bridie. She returned and suggested to Larry that they might be better relocating to the office where they wouldn’t be interrupted and that Bridie would meet them there.

  “Maeve tells me you’ve changed your mind about investing,” she said with a smug smile stealing across her lips. Maeve knew that look; it was the look that said ‘I won.’

  “Yes, ma’am, I think we can find a way to make it work, but we need to work out the fine details and I’d like to look over your accounts some more. Maeve here felt it would be more appropriate if we all three met together.” Larry gave her his most winning all-American guy smile.

  Maeve shuddered. As if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, she thought. And Granny is falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

  “Ok, son, now’s the time to tell you, I want to retire so it’s all the same to me if you keep this place going or the bank take it over, I’m too old to work. If you keep it going, it will be Maeve there you’ll be dealing with. I’m worn out.”

  Maeve started spluttering; this was a fine time for the old dragon to announce her retirement. She always had to have the last word, and as for calling him son, only Bridie McNamara would call Larry Williamson the Fourth son and get away with it. Maeve couldn’t help wondering what the conniving old witch had up her sleeve this time. And now she had no comfort zone between herself and the spanking king.

  “I’ll leave yiz to it. Maeve knows where everything is and you might as well get used to each other.” Without giving either Larry or Maeve a moment to get a word in edgeways, she was gone. Maeve could picture the self-satisfied smile that was most likely on her lips as she exited.

  “What’s the witch up to now?” she thought aloud, forgetting that it was exactly that kind of comment that had gotten her in so much bother before.

  “I thought I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to hear such disrespect towards your grandma. I cannot believe we are having this conversation again so soon,” he said ominously.

  “Yes, Mr Williamson, conversation and that’s as far as it goes,” Maeve warned. “Ok, if it makes you so unhappy, I’ll keep my thoughts about Granny to myself. I love her dearly, I owe her everything, but I know her a damn sight better than you. One day you’ll see her true colours and I promise to try not to laugh too loud when you do, so let’s drop the subject. It seems it’s pretty much you and me now, so can we work together?”

  “I think so, Maeve, but please drop the Mr Williamson. I give you my word, it will be a purely professional relationship from now on. But you will have to make me trust you.”

  “And you have to make me trust you too, Larry. I’m happy to draw a line in the sand if you can guarantee you’ll keep your hands in check. I’ll consider the investment a good will gesture and I’ll work my socks off to see you get a return on your investment. Deal?” She reached across the table and held her hand out as a peace offering. He readily took it.

  “Deal,” he agreed.

  “Now do you want to take a look at the books? To tell the truth I wouldn’t mind a look myself; normally she keeps them under lock and key.”

  They spent the rest of the evening holed away together going through the records, some of which were surprising to Maeve and even more surprising to Larry. The bulk of the outgoings were to the bank, followed by suppliers and then the tax authorities. It was plain that, excluding the repayments on the loan, it was a profitable venture. After a few hours they were going goggle-eyed and Larry asked Maeve to join him for a walk on the beach to clear their heads and she agreed; he was right, it would be much easier if they were at least civil with each other. She arranged extra cover for the dining room that evening
so she and Bridie could join Larry and his father for dinner, to cement the deal.

  Over the course of the week they looked at the records for the past few years, discussed a game plan on marketing and increasing takings, and considered the minimum capital needed to keep the place afloat. In spite of getting off on the wrong foot, they worked well together. Maeve was even beginning to lose her resentment about being forced into the business. Now that she was designated manager, it became a matter of pride to her to see it succeed and she was full of ideas to make it all happen.

  Larry was no less enthusiastic and Maeve found his ideas fresh and uninhibited by the Irish psyche; he knew the American market and fully intended to tap into it. In the end, it was agreed, Larry would pump one hundred and fifty thousand euro into the hotel. One hundred thousand was to be used to repay the bank loan; the other fifty thousand was to provide working capital at a much less penal rate than the current overdraft facility. In return, the business would pay him annual interest of five per cent of the capital, and a twenty per cent share of any profits, as long as the loan remained outstanding. After a year, if everything was going satisfactorily, they would look at the costing and investment into the museum.

  Maeve readily agreed to the terms. They were considerably more manageable than the current loan repayments, and there was the added bonus that Larry actually wanted to see it succeed; the bank only cared about recovering as much of their money as they could. Looking back over the time, Maeve was surprised to acknowledge that she had enjoyed working with him. He inspired enthusiasm and a ‘can-do’ mentality that Maeve hadn’t experienced before and it really rubbed off on her. She looked forward to each new day as a challenge rather than a torture to be endured.