“They are. But not for those other two places I called. They were all booked up.”
Emma wrinkled her brow. “Huh.”
“And their rooms cost more than a hundred dollars more than your room. And I looked at their web sites and their rooms aren’t as nice as yours.”
“Huh,” Emma repeated.
Cynthia sipped her wine to give Emma a chance to process what she was being told.
“So this is a marketing problem? That’s what you’re telling me?” Emma finally said.
“Exactly! That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You are running this place the way your husband said to run it. But that was forty years ago. Things have changed. Back then, people used travel agents. Nearby folks might have used the yellow pages. Those things hardly even exist any more,” Cynthia explained.
Emma nodded. “You’re going to tell me to get a web site, right?”
“Yes. And a Facebook page. And a Twitter account. And search engine advertising. We need to do all the things those two other hotels are doing, so we can be as booked up on a Tuesday as they are.”
“Sounds expensive,” Emma said.
“Not really. I’ve looked into it and for less than a thousand a month, I can get all that stuff going. A lot of it—like Facebook and stuff—that’s free. It’s just a matter of putting the time in and building a following.”
“And you know how to do all that?” Emma asked.
“I’ve been reading up. I’ll be perfectly honest—I’ll definitely be learning on the job. But yeah, I know what needs to be done, and I know how to figure out how it’s done.”
“Okay, then,” Emma said, slapping her hands on her knees. “Let’s do it! Then we’ll be making enough that you can stay, right?”
“That’s the plan,” Cynthia said. “But before we do anything, there’s one more decision we have to make.”
“What’s that?” Emma asked.
“Since you have almost no presence on the Internet right now, this is our one chance for a fresh start. I think we need to rebrand.”
“Like a new logo?”
“Like a new name. This place is just as fancy as those expensive places. It should have a name that sounds fancy.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Emma said. “You think?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I have the perfect name,” Cynthia said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Phillips House,” she declared.
“Like my Phillip! It’s his house! Oh, sweetie, I love that!” A tear formed at the corner of Emma’s eye. “He’d never have called it that. He was too modest. But it’s so perfect!”
“I love it, too. And it sounds really dignified. I think we don’t put an apostrophe in it. So it sounds like a luxury place owned by some old money family named Phillips. But we’ll know better.”
Emma stood up and put her arms out. “Oh sweetie,” she said, pulling Cynthia into a hug as she stood, “I just love it. You are so smart. I bet you have a lot more ideas, don’t you?”
“I might have a few,” Cynthia said. “Let me get things rolling. I’ve got a line on a designer who can make us a logo, letterhead, stuff like that. Of course, you’ll have final say on everything.”
“This is exciting,” Emma said, taking Cynthia by the shoulders and looking her in the eye. “Phillips House. So fancy!”
Cynthia laughed. “Fancy. Just like you,” she said.
Emma let out a roar of a laugh. “Child, you are crazy. I knew it.”
¤
Cynthia was eager to start setting up social media for the newly christened “Phillips House,” but she was stuck until the logo was settled upon. That piece of branding was going to be a centerpiece of everything she did. So in the mean time she studied up on hotel pricing models and continued transcribing the guest book into her computer. When she discovered repeat guests, she noted that as well, figuring those were the first people she should hit in the direct-mail campaign.
She had developed a whole marketing plan, including a website. She found a company that specialized in sites for small hotels. Once she had her logo and some nice room pictures, she could quickly have a site up and running that included booking management. She knew that getting Emma to switch to managing bookings online wasn’t going to be easy, but in her experience, being able to book a room online without having to call someone was important.
She broached the topic as she and Emma were sitting in the garden weeding. “So when we have a website, people are going to want to book their rooms right there, without calling.”
“That makes sense,” Emma said.
“But that means the site has to know which rooms are available. Which means we can’t just keep them on paper,” Cynthia explained.
“Mmm hmm,” Emma looked at Cynthia. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to change how I keep track of the guest bookings.”
“Yes.”
“And you are worried that I won’t be able to learn how to do it, because it’s on a computer?” Emma asked.
“No! Not that you can’t learn. That you don’t want to. You seem really set in your ways of how you run things here.”
Emma smiled. “I’m not set in my ways. If there’s a better way to do something, I’m on board. I’m sure you can show me what I need to do.”
“Really? Oh, that’s such a relief! I was thinking for now we can just use my laptop at the front desk, until business picks up and we can afford to get a computer just for that.”
“That’s nice of you, dear. Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Absolutely. We’re in this together! I’ve got the service picked out where I’ll host the website. I just need to get that logo settled before I can do much more on the marketing front.”
“How’s that logo coming?” Emma asked, turning back to her weeding.
“Should just be a couple more days and then we’ll have some options to choose from,” Cynthia said.
“And if we don’t like any of them?”
“Then she’ll do some more. She’s charging us a fixed fee for this and said we can say ‘no’ as much as we want. There’s another thing we should talk about,” Cynthia said.
“What’s that, child?”
“I’ve been looking at what other hotels charge and I think we need to raise our prices.”
Emma looked at her. “I don’t know about that. Won’t that make it harder to fill the rooms?”
“Not if we do it right. What the other hotels and inns seem to do is have a list price that’s a lot higher. And then they offer discounts. If you say the room is two-fifty a night but it’s on special for one-fifty, people think they’re getting a better deal than if you just said it was one-fifty to begin with.”
Emma went back to her weeding. “People fall for that?”
“Do you remember what you said that first night I was here? When those people asked you where they could get gluten free sushi?”
“No,” Emma said, looking up at Cynthia.
“People are idiots,” Cynthia said.
Emma laughed a big belly laugh. “Oh! Yeah, I remember now. They sure as hell are.”
“So yeah, people fall for that. All the other hotels do it, so it makes sense for us to do it, too. Plus if you get a business traveler booking at the last minute who desperately needs a room, you can charge them full price.”
Emma nodded. “I suppose you could. Well that sounds like a good idea.”
“Also,” Cynthia continued, “you aren’t supposed to be paying the taxes and local tourism fees out of our end. People expect to be charged for those things in addition to the room rate.”
“Is that right? Now see, I didn’t know what to do when the city said I needed to give them that extra money. So you tell people you’ll charge them one fifty and then you print up the bill at the end of the stay and it’s one seventy-five or whatever?”
“Yup,” Cynthia agreed. “That’s what all the other hotels do.”
Emma stood up. “This
bed’s done. I think it’s time for lunch. Well if we do what you’re saying, that’s going to add some to the bottom line right away.”
“It is.”
“You’re pretty good at this hotel business, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying,” Cynthia said with a smile. “I have a couple more feet to cover here. I’ll be in soon.”
Emma headed inside and Cynthia glanced up at her as she left. Well that went a lot easier than I expected, she thought. She was frequently surprised by Emma’s willingness to change. She had seen the patterns and routines that Emma followed and assumed she would be resistant to updating how things worked. But she was starting to understand that Emma did what she did because she didn’t know there was a better way. And if Cynthia could explain why change was needed, Emma would jump right on board. It emboldened her, and she started thinking about what else she might do to improve the operations of the inn.
FIFTEEN
Cynthia walked into Emma’s sitting room carrying a bottle of champagne. The two had a nice dinner together in the kitchen, and Cynthia had washed the dishes while Emma relaxed with a book, as had become their custom over the past few weeks. They ate most meals together—possibly Cynthia’s favorite perk of this arrangement.
“Champagne! What are we celebrating?” Emma asked.
Cynthia placed two flutes onto the coffee table and found a coaster for the bottle, which was ice cold and dripping with condensation. “Any idea how many guests are staying here tonight? How many rooms?”
“Hmm,” Emma said. “It used to be so easy to tell with my appointment book, but now that we’re using the computer I don’t really know that off the top of my head. Let me think…” There was a pause as Cynthia watched Emma replay the day’s events in her mind, nodding and pointing at random places in the air. “Nine?” she finally said.
“That’s right! I’m impressed. And how many rooms are there here at Phillips House?”
Emma smiled at the mention of the name. “Well we have ten rooms, but of course you’re in one of them. So nine. Full house!”
“Hard to beat that hand,” Cynthia joked. “Just four of a kind or a straight flush.”
Emma laughed. “You and I should play cards sometime. I’ll kick your lily white ass in cribbage, you know.”
“I’m sure you will, since I don’t know how to play that. But we’re getting off topic. Do you know what day it is?”
“You testing me for old-timers?” Emma said with a wry smile. “It’s Tuesday, of course.”
“It’s Tuesday and we are fully booked!” Cynthia said, connecting the dots for Emma. She picked up the champagne bottle and wrapped a towel over the cork. She eased the cork out into the towel and then filled the two flutes.
“Well that was a little anticlimactic, as cork-popping goes,” Emma said.
Cynthia smiled and handed her a glass. “I didn’t want to get sparkling wine all over your carpet. We did it! To Phillips House!” she toasted.
Emma tapped her glass lightly against Cynthia’s and took a sip. “I don’t really like champagne, you know, but I’ll definitely drink to that! It’s all your doing. I feel like I’m just along for the ride, here.”
“I have another surprise,” Cynthia said, reaching into the pocket of the blazer she wore when she was working. She pulled out a handful of plastic rectangles with pins on the back and carefully placed them on the table so Emma could see them.
“Badges? Those are fancy,” Emma said, picking up the one with her name on it to examine it more closely. She put on her reading glasses and found the right distance to read the words clearly. “Emma. Proprietor,” she read. “What’s yours say?”
“Concierge,” Cynthia said. “I like the way these came out, with the logo and everything.”
“They are very nice,” Emma agreed. “So we have a Concierge now?” she teased.
“Yup. And Billy is now ‘Bellman’ and Celita is ‘Housekeeper.’”
“I like it. I really like how things are changing around here. And it’s certainly nice to not have to worry about how I’m going to meet payroll every month!” Emma said with a laugh.
“Speaking of which, Celita told me she’s having trouble getting through all the rooms in time. She was wondering if we might consider hiring her sister.”
“Sounds good to me. I assume they get along alright?”
“She said they did.”
“You’ll have to get her one of those new badges, though.” Emma smiled as she placed hers back on the table.
“I can manage that,” Cynthia said. “So I’m thinking I’m going to step it up a little with the concierge services. Put it on the website that we have one and set up a table in the lobby with a placard. It feels right for the kind of place we’re running now.”
“Whatever you think, sweetie. I’m going to put on some music,” Emma said, standing. She took one step toward the little radio on the bookshelf and started to fall forward. She tried to catch herself on the way down and her legs buckled under her. Cynthia watched in horror as her friend fell, unable to help from her position on the opposite side of the table. She rushed around and looked in Emma’s eyes, looking up sheepishly from the floor.
“Are you okay?” Cynthia asked.
“I… I’m fine, child. I just got dizzy all of a sudden,” Emma sat up and rubbed her wrist. “Hurt my hand a little on the way down though.”
“You stay there, I’ll go get some ice.” Cynthia rushed to the kitchen and filled a towel with ice. She rushed back, and Emma was still sitting on the floor. She had turned so her back was against the chair she had previously been sitting on. Cynthia held the ice against her wrist, causing Emma to wince. “Should we get you to the doctor?”
“No, child. I’m fine. It’s nothing. Help me up.”
Cynthia eased her back up onto the chair. “I’ll put on the music,” she said with a smile. Cynthia turned on the radio and set the volume low, then came back over and knelt in front of Emma. She looked her over. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I get dizzy spells sometimes. I’ve got a doctor appointment next week. I’ll tell him then. Maybe he needs to adjust my pills.”
“Your pills?” Cynthia asked.
“Oh, child. You have no idea what it’s like to be old. Man’s got me taking more pills than you can count. Blood pressure, cholesterol, you name it. Maybe he needs to fiddle with the mix or something. I’ll tell him, don’t you worry.”
“Okay, Emma, if you say so,” Cynthia lied. She would worry.
¤
Cynthia closed her eyes and listened to the bustle of the emergency room waiting area. She tried to pick out conversations around her, but they were all muddled together. It was like trying to pick out a single bird song in a raucous jungle. She picked up the gentle humming of her companion. She leaned over onto his shoulder and he put his arm around her. She felt safe and warm in his grasp.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she said.
“It’s no problem,” he replied. “Kind of strange being on this side of things.”
She looked up at him. Evan was staring straight ahead. “I suppose that’s true,” she agreed. “But you don’t work in a hospital.”
“I used to. During my residency and for a few years after that. Did a rotation in emergency medicine, even.”
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Cynthia asked.
“Yeah, I do. A blood pressure problem like hers can be dangerous, but they know how to treat it. She’ll be back to normal in no time.”
Cynthia closed her eyes and nodded. “Say, I’ve been wondering something.”
“What’s that?” Evan asked.
“Why do you keep killing me?”
Evan laughed. “What? What do you mean?”
“In these dreams. You carried me off a cliff in one. And then you tried to drown me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.
“Who are you? I know that you make me
feel really comfortable and safe and calm. You’re the perfect person to have in a situation like this—I mean if it was really happening. But you aren’t the guy I tracked down.”
“No. I suppose I’m not,” he said.
“So who then?”
“Maybe what?” he replied.
“What?” she turned to face him.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Am I Abbott or Costello in this routine?” Cynthia asked.
Evan laughed. “I don’t know.”
Cynthia punched him. But then started laughing. “Are you saying maybe you aren’t a who, but rather you are a what?”
“Maybe,” he repeated.
Cynthia nodded. “I can see that. Any idea which what, exactly?”
“Nope. I think you need to figure that out.”
“Okay. I’ll work on it. Can you stop killing me? It’s hard to get back to sleep when I wake up that way.”
Evan looked at her and smiled. He took her chin in his hand. “Maybe,” he said.
Cynthia opened her eyes. She slipped out of bed and put on a robe. She crept into the residential part of the inn to check on Emma. It was dark and quiet, and she could hear Emma gently snoring from her bedroom. Cynthia slipped out and went to sit on the porch. The night was cool but not too cool. There was a fog. She eased into an Adirondack chair and listened to the night.
SIXTEEN
Cynthia pulled into the parking lot of Chez Claude at about four in the afternoon. She had been driving all over the county, collecting menus from the better restaurants. Her original plan was to make a nice binder for the concierge desk featuring all of them, organized into categories. But as she looked at the pile of menus on the passenger seat of her car, she realized that would be a challenge. There were menus of all shapes and sizes—she was going to need a much bigger binder. Her stomach growled as she stepped out of the car and a fine mist of garlic, onions, and spices hit her olfactory system.
The open sign was not lit, but the door was open, and she stepped into the dark room. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the cozy, romantic atmosphere. The smells outside were nothing compared to what hit her once she was inside. She stood in the quiet space listening to the kitchen noises and then finally called out, “Hello?”
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