Mistress, Mother...Wife?
Page 3
‘As it happens I had a croissant at the deli while I was waiting to talk to the manager.’
Crossing her arms over her damp rain-spattered coat, Anna challenged him to disbelieve her. It was sweet that he took such an interest in her welfare and what she ate, but she was no longer the naive twenty-four-year-old she’d been when she first came to the hotel. She was thirty-two, in charge of her own destiny, and the assistant manager to boot!
‘A croissant, eh? And how do you expect to survive on such a poor substitute for food as that until lunch-time? A croissant is nothing but air too!’
‘It wasn’t just air. It had apricot and custard in it, and it was extremely filling and very nice.’ Sighing patiently, Anna let her rose-tinted lips naturally form a smile. ‘Now, will you please answer my question about the produce delivery? Anita’s expecting an important delegation for lunch today, and everything has to be just perfect.’
Luigi threw up his hands dramatically. ‘And you believe it won’t be? You should know by now that Luigi delivers nothing but perfection! ‘
‘You’re right. I do know that.’
‘And, yes, the delivery has arrived—and the black olives are excellent as usual.’
‘What a relief. So everything is fine, then? I mean, there aren’t any problems? ‘
With her gaze swinging round towards Cheryl, who was the sous chef, and the three young kitchen assistants scurrying busily about the kitchen, Anna included them all in her question. She hadn’t been made assistant manager without developing an ability to notice everything—from the mundane to the much more important—and she was very keen for all to be well.
Anita and Grant, the hotel’s owners, had always prided themselves on running a tight ship, but an extremely friendly one too. They cared about their staff. That was why Anna had stayed on. And when she’d fallen pregnant they hadn’t said she had to leave. Instead, the couple had been unstinting in their support of her, seeing her potential and insisting she occupy the charming two-bedroom apartment in the basement of the hotel as part of her remuneration for working there. They had also helped her find a reliable and decent local nursery for her baby, and encouraged her to take an online management course with a view to promoting her and helping her to earn a better salary. Consequently, Anna was fiercely loyal as well as immensely grateful to the couple.
‘Everything’s fine in the kitchen, Anna.’ Cheryl nodded, but then the slim, pretty blonde bit down anxiously on her lip and continued, ‘Except we couldn’t help wondering why Anita and Grant had a delegation from one of the most well-known hotel chains in the country coming here for lunch. Can you tell us anything about it?’
Anna’s insides cartwheeled at the question. This afternoon the couple who owned the hotel had scheduled a meeting with her to discuss something important, and all last night and early this morning, as she’d got her daughter Tia ready for kindergarten, she’d been fretting about what the subject might be. The charming little hotel in its smart Georgian building was situated in a very desirable corner of Covent Garden, but Anna wasn’t oblivious to the fact that the country was plunged deep into a recession and reservations and consequently takings were definitely down.
Were they going to be bought out by a more commercial hotel giant, and as a consequence would she lose a job she loved again? And not just her job this time, but her home too? It hardly bore thinking about.
But now, seeing the obvious anxiety on not just Cheryl’s but on the other staff members’ faces too, she knew she had a duty to reassure them.
‘To be absolutely honest with you I know nothing about it. My advice to you all would be to just concentrate on your work and not waste time on speculation. It won’t help. If there’s anything concerning us that we need to know, you can be sure we’ll all get to hear about it soon. Now, I must get on. I’ve got to relieve Jason on Reception. He’s standing in for Amy, who’s phoned in sick.’
Time dragged interminably slowly as the hotel chain’s delegation of three enjoyed the superb three-course lunch Luigi and his staff had prepared. Afterwards the two men and their female colleague were closeted in a meeting with Anita, Grant and their son Jason, the manager, for two and a half hours. Anna had never been a clock-watcher, but that afternoon she was.
It was a quarter to five by the time the phone rang on Reception to invite her into Jason’s office for the promised meeting with him and his parents. In the meantime, Linda, the girl who did the late shift on the desk, had turned up, and now sat beside Anna powdering her nose.
Standing outside the manager’s office, Anna smoothed her hands nervously down over her smart navy skirt, captured a stray auburn tendril that had come adrift from her ponytail, tucked it back into her faux ivory clip and then rapped briefly on the door. Greeted by three identically reassuring smiles, she nonetheless sensed immediately that all was not well.
‘Dear Anna. Come and sit down, my love.’
The tiny brunette with the stylish elfin haircut, and the smooth, unlined face that belied the fact she was only a year away from the big sixty, welcomed her warmly, as usual.
‘Firstly, you’ll be pleased to know that the lunch Luigi prepared for our visitors today went extremely well. They were very impressed.’
‘The man can certainly cook,’ chipped in Grant, Anita’s handsome silver-haired husband. ‘You could almost forgive him for having an ego the size of an elephant!’
Anna immediately deduced he was nervous, and she perched on the edge of her seat, wishing her mouth wasn’t suddenly so sickeningly dry, and that her stomach hadn’t sunk as heavily as a giant boulder thrown into the sea. Searching for reassurance, her dark eyes met Jason’s. The tall, slim young man whose features were a male version of his elfin mother’s tried for a smile, but instead it came off as a resigned grimace. That was the moment when the alarm bells clanged deafeningly loud for Anna.
‘So…’ Her hands linking together nervously in her lap, she leaned forward even farther in her chair. ‘What was the delegation from that commercial hotel chain doing here? Are we in trouble, or something?’
Anita started to speak, but Grant quickly took over.
‘Yes, love.’ He sighed, pulling a handkerchief out of his suit trousers to lightly mop his brow. ‘Serious financial trouble, I’m afraid. Like many other small businesses, the recession’s dealt us a heavy blow, and I’m sure you’re aware that we’ve been losing money hand over fist. You’ve noticed how the reservations have fallen? It’s really only the regulars that have stayed loyal to us. If we’re to hold our own against some of the more popular hotels we need to reinvest and refurbish, but with the coffers practically empty, and banks refusing loans left right and centre, it’s not likely to happen. Consequently, we’ve had no choice but to try and get some other form of help.’
‘Does that mean that you’re going to sell the hotel? ‘ There was such a rush of blood to her head that Anna scarcely registered her boss’s answer. All she could think of right then was Tia… How was she going feed and clothe her child if she lost her job? More urgently, where were they going to live?
‘We were offered a buyout, but we haven’t accepted the offer yet. We told the delegation that the hotel had been in the family for three generations and we needed some time to think things over.’ Anita’s usually sunny smile was painfully subdued. ‘We have to get back to them by the end of the week. If we do agree to the buyout then unfortunately it means that none of us stay. They’ll want to refurbish and give the place their own look, run it with their own staff. I’m desperately sorry, Anna, but that’s our position.’
She was struck silent by the news she’d just heard, but her mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour. Then, because she was also devoted to and protective of the interests of the family that had been so good to her and Tia, Anna forced a reassuring smile to her numbed lips.
‘It’s a difficult situation you’re in,’ she quietly acknowledged, ‘and it’s hardly your fault that there’s a recession. The st
aff—including myself—will all eventually find other jobs, but what will you guys do? The hotel’s been in your family for so long, and you love it…I know you do.’
‘It’s kind of you to be so concerned, love.’ The big shoulders that strained Grant’s suit jacket lifted in a shrug. ‘I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but we’ll be fine. We’ve got each other, and that’s what matters most in the end, isn’t it…? The people you love, I mean.’
Not usually given to expressing his feelings in public, he squeezed Anita’s hand. ‘And we’ll do whatever we can to help you find another flat, Anna. We certainly won’t be walking out this door until we know you and Tia are safely settled somewhere. As for jobs. Well, with all the experience and qualifications you’ve gained these past few years, some grateful hotel will eagerly snap you up. You’re a lovely girl and a complete asset. they’ll quickly learn that.’
‘So you’ll let us all know by the end of the week what you’ve decided?’
‘Perhaps sooner… Anita, Jason and I plan to spend the evening mulling things over. As soon as we’ve decided we’ll let you and the rest of the staff know the decision we’ve reached.’
Getting to his feet, Grant sent Anna a friendly broad smile. ‘It’s five o’clock, and it’s time you were running along to get that little angel of yours from aftercare at kindergarten, isn’t it?’
Glancing down at the slim silver-linked watch on her wrist, Anna shot up from her seat. She hated to be late collecting Tia, and as always ached to see her child and learn about her day. Tonight, when she was in effect in limbo about their future, she would make an extra fuss of her, and hold her even tighter before putting her to bed.
CHAPTER THREE
STUDYING the sunlit view of the Thames from his Westminster apartment window, Dante suddenly moved impatiently away, jettisoning his mobile onto the bed. He’d just flown back from a business trip to New York, was feeling fuzzy-headed and tired, and yet the conversation he’d just had with a business friend of his had definitely acted like a triple dose of strong black coffee injected straight into his bloodstream.
The Mirabelle Hotel… It was a name he’d never forgotten. Even after five years. The family who owned it were apparently in dire straits financially, and had been forced to consider a buyout from the commercial hotel chain that his friend Eddie was on the board of. The place was situated in a prime location in central London, and as far as Eddie was concerned it should have been a done deal. But he’d just heard that the owners had quite unbelievably rejected the offer. They had some old-fashioned notion that the business had to stay in the family, come what may.
Eddie had verbalised his astonishment at the number of people who let their hearts rule their head in business. ‘Will they ever learn? How about it, Dante?’ he’d asked. ‘Fancy giving it a shot? I don’t doubt the place is a potential goldmine.’
He had ended the call after agreeing to meet with his friend for a drink later, but Eddie’s parting remark had set Dante’s mind racing. That incredible night he’d stayed at that particular hotel had changed his life. A veritable angel had motivated him to want to do some good in the world instead of just simply taking what he believed his hard work entitled him to. Not only had his aims become less ruthless and driven, but he had discovered a much more exciting avenue, and a way of doing business that far exceeded what he had achieved before in terms of personal satisfaction. It would definitely have had his mother cheering him from the sidelines if she’d lived to see the changes he’d made.
Although he was on the board of several blue chip companies, and still in mergers and acquisitions, Dante had sold off most of his businesses and now specialised in helping family-run concerns make their businesses more viable. He’d also reverted to his mother’s surname, instead of the British one he’d adopted when he’d first started out in business here. Once again he was Dante Romano, and he had to admit it felt good to be much more authentic. Friends like Eddie still called him Dan, but that was okay. It was a fair enough shortening of Dante.
The Mirabelle Hotel…
Dante flopped down onto the king-sized bed with its opulent aubergine counterpane and picked up his phone. What had happened to the titian-haired beauty he’d spent the night with? Anna Bailey. The memory of her slid into his mind like the diaphanous caress of sensuous silk. Closing his eyes, he could almost taste her. He could even recall her perfume…something musky, with hints of orange and patchouli in it. It had been in her long flowing hair, and there had been traces on her milk-and-honey skin too.
His reflection deepening, Dante arrestingly recalled the sumptuously erotic, quivering pink mouth that he’d ached to plunder from almost the first moment he’d encountered it. The experience had been an utter revelation…as though it couldn’t have been more right or perfect. For an endless-seeming moment he’d been dizzy with longing for her—his lovely lady of the night, who’d reached out to rescue him when all he could see ahead was blinding darkness.
His eyelids snapped open. Of all the businesses he could hear about that were in trouble…why the Mirabelle? One thing was certain—he couldn’t let such an uncanny opportunity pass him by without at least checking it out…
She’d had another sleepless night. Duvet and pillow flung in frustration on the floor during the night. Her bed had become a taunting enemy instead of the safe, comforting haven she craved. And when she’d finally got up, Anna had uncharacteristically snapped at Tia as well.
As soon as she’d seen the child’s luminous blue-grey eyes sparkle with tears across from her at the breakfast table, she’d immediately wanted to kick herself. Drawing the little girl urgently onto her lap, she’d kissed and hugged her and told her about a hundred times how sorry she was. Mummy didn’t mean to shout. She was just a little bit stressed, she’d explained.
‘What does distressed mean? ‘ Tia had questioned, absently, playing with a long curling tendril of Anna’s unbound auburn hair.
Perhaps her daughter had unwittingly stumbled upon the truth of what she was feeling? She was distressed.
‘I’ll explain when you come home from school, darling,’ she’d hedged, praying the child would forget to ask. It wasn’t something a four-year-old should be remotely acquainted with, to Anna’s mind. Childhood should be joyful and carefree… even if her own had been a million miles away from such an idyll.
The Cathcarts had told Anna that they’d turned down the offer of a buyout from the big hotel chain. So when she’d entered the office the following morning to discover that her employers were considering a fresh offer—this one from an independent source who had been told about them by one of the delegation from the hotel chain—her insides had mimicked the nail-biting ascent and descent of a frantic rollercoaster ride for the second time. Once more the possibility of losing her job and home loomed worryingly large.
‘Your parents said that an interested investor wants to help them improve profitability and modernise. Can you explain exactly what this means?’ Anna had asked concernedly as she left the owners’ office to walk with Jason to his.
‘Don’t look so worried, Anna. It’s good news. Major investment is just what the Mirabelle needs. What we’re hoping is that this guy will be interested enough to invest a large chunk of his own money in the business to help turn it around. He’ll be the majority shareholder, but he won’t own it outright. I’ve been checking out his record and it’s quite impressive, to put it mildly. His interests are truly international, but his main concern is helping family-run businesses become more profitable. If we accept an offer from him to invest, it means that we stay running the hotel under his guidance and expertise. We’ll have the chance to really take things to another level…even in the recession.’
Jason opened the door for Anna to precede him as they took their coffee into his cramped, cluttered office. Pushing some papers aside on a desk that scarcely had a corner free of paper debris, he left his mug of coffee on a stained cork coaster. An air of bubbling excitement underlaid hi
s usually level tone.
‘When he goes into a business with a view to helping it perform better,’ he continued, ‘he takes a good hard look at how it’s being run and then advises on the changes that will make it more efficient and profitable. He particularly specialises in helping to resolve any conflicts that might be preventing people from working successfully together.’
Anna’s brow creased. ‘There aren’t any conflicts amongst us, though, are there? Unless you mean Luigi’s tendency to lord it over the others in the kitchen… They do get a bit fed up with him from time to time, but aren’t all head chefs a bit like that? Egotistic and dramatic, I mean.’
‘Generally I think that we all get on great. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for improvement.’ As he paced the floor, it appeared as if Jason’s enthusiasm was hard to contain. ‘Unaired resentments can fester… we all know that. And this guy is a real people person. We thoroughly checked him out before inviting him over for a meeting. Apparently one of the first things he does is to interview everyone to discover how they feel about their job. He passionately believes that their attitude contributes to how well they work, and he has a unique reputation for getting staff and management to work more successfully together. The best thing of all is that the family get to stay doing what they love. We don’t have to just sell up and go. Who knows? If the hotel starts to make a real profit, we might eventually be able to buy it back completely. The staff will remain too of course. It means you won’t have to search for another job, Anna, isn’t that great? Having someone like this Dante Romano guy invest his money in the hotel and take a look at how we can improve things could be the best opportunity we’ve had in ages!’
‘And what’s the pay-off for this man? I mean…what’s in it for him besides making a profit? I doubt that he’s going to do all this out of the goodness of his heart.’