of the Yosemite suite. It should be okay. Referrals for families are rare at Christmastime.”
“But a month and a half? That’s longer than normal.”
“It’s an unusual situation. I, um...” Tessa sounded distracted, probably because of the baby crying in the background. A moment later, she came back on the line. “Sorry, Merri needed some attention. Anyway, Mrs. Forrester was an army major who died in the Middle East. The father wants to get away from home with his twin daughters to help them through the holiday season. Apparently they’re still having a rough time dealing with their mother’s death.”
Forrester?
Carlie’s jaw dropped as she realized why the name was familiar. The year before it had been on magazine covers, scandal rags, newspapers...everywhere. There weren’t too many wealthy men whose wives had died wearing army fatigues and the media had covered the story for weeks. She’d felt terrible for them. Grief should be a private thing.
“Uh...oh, I see,” Carlie said. “Are they staying under the usual terms?”
Poppy Gold’s policy was to offer military families seven days of rest and relaxation at no charge, and a substantially reduced rate for longer visits, but Luke Forrester could probably buy Poppy Gold with his pocket change. She remembered the articles about him saying he had the Midas touch for everything from real estate to investing to manufacturing. Basically, he ran a huge conglomerate of different companies.
“It was a regular referral from General Pierson’s office, so it wouldn’t seem right to treat them differently from anyone else who’s stayed there.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Carlie hung up. Her staff had left on various tasks, giving her a quiet moment to think. Celebrities often visited Poppy Gold, so she couldn’t be sure the air of anticipation she’d noticed was because of Luke Forrester’s imminent arrival. It seemed possible, though. He was a different kind of celebrity and female employees were bound to see him as a romantically tragic figure, particularly the unmarried ones.
She shook her head and went to the storeroom to finish checking the contents of the shipment received on Wednesday. This year, she’d suggested they give a uniquely designed Poppy Gold Christmas ornament to the guests and volunteers for kickoff day. But the ornaments had arrived late and she and her staff were still checking for quality and putting them back into their gift boxes.
Two hours later, she got up and stretched. She wasn’t done, but she wanted to attend a noon luncheon at the concert hall catered by Sarah’s Sweet Treats. Sarah was one of her cousins and a fabulous cook and baker.
It was a fun event, featuring dishes made with “leftover” turkey. Of course, they weren’t actually leftovers because the catering staff had been baking turkey all night, but the guests wouldn’t care. They could enjoy “leftover” Thanksgiving dishes, but also curried turkey salad, turkey croquettes, turkey sandwiches...along with a huge number of other inventive offerings.
Creative Turkey Bites had started nine years ago when Tessa’s mother decided a few of their stay-over guests might miss leftovers. Because of that, Poppy Gold had begun serving a second turkey meal on the Friday after Thanksgiving. The tickets were expensive, but worth twice the price in Carlie’s opinion.
“Carlie, Bill Blalock just phoned,” Tim Mahoney called out from his cubicle. “Your presence is requested in Guest Reception.”
Because her office was located in Old City Hall, she was sometimes asked to help out with public relations issues. On the few occasions when her presence was “requested,” it meant they had a difficult guest. She headed to the reception area, only to stop and blink when she saw Luke Forrester standing near the curved mahogany reception counter.
His pictures hadn’t done him justice. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen—and the most grumpy-looking one, too. Two little girls stood nearby. Both seemed solemn and anxious and one had tearstains on her face. Plainly they weren’t experiencing any warm, after-Thanksgiving glow.
Carlie stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Carlie Benton. May I help you?”
“Yes. We’ve been up since two this morning and now I’ve been informed we can’t get into our accommodations for several hours,” Luke Forrester snapped, ignoring her extended hand.
“I see.”
So much for romantically tragic; he was more like the Grinch who’d stolen Christmas. Carlie cast a look at the clock. It was shortly before noon and check-in started at 4:00 p.m. unless prior arrangements had been made. Both the website and any employee Mr. Forrester talked to would have made that clear.
Carlie walked around to a registration monitor and confirmed they had a standard reservation, with no special requests.
“I’m sorry, but your rooms aren’t ready yet.” She smiled at the two girls, who had to be identical twins—they were as alike as two peas in a pod. “In the meantime, would you like to have a yummy lunch?”
The one whose cheeks were tearstained ducked her head while the other offered a tiny smile in return. “Yes, thank you. I’m Beth,” she said. “And this is my sister, Annie.”
She nudged Annie, who wiggled her fingers in a small wave.
“It’s great to meet you both. I’m Carlie.”
“Excuse me, you haven’t explained why you weren’t ready for us when we arrived,” Luke Forrester interjected impatiently.
Carlie fixed him with the steady gaze she’d cultivated dealing with newspaper reporters at her old public relations job. It was never easy for her to stay calm, though. She had a terrible temper.
“Mr. Forrester, I’m very sorry, but check-in time is 4:00 p.m. We had visitors at the John Muir Cottage last night. They left on schedule and our housekeeping staff is working to get everything ready for you. In the meantime, there’s a special luncheon being served down the street. You and your daughters are welcome to eat as our guests while you’re waiting.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and she expected further demands, but he finally said, “Fine,” in a sharp tone.
Carlie glanced at Bill Blalock. He was excellent with people, so it was unusual for him not to be able to handle a difficult client. Of course, no matter how skilled he was, a few guests always insisted on speaking to someone with more authority. In most cases, she’d discovered they’d caused their own problem and didn’t want to take responsibility.
“Bill, please call me when Mr. Forrester’s accommodations are ready,” she asked, giving him a significant look that suggested putting a rush on the cleaning crew.
Poppy Gold Inns allowed guests into their rooms early when feasible, but first they had to be properly prepared and approved by a housekeeping supervisor. While Carlie didn’t believe that bad manners and arbitrary expectations should be rewarded, the Forrester family was obviously under a great deal of strain. Quickly getting them into their suite would be best all around.
“I’ll take care of it,” Bill promised. “Don’t be concerned about your luggage, Mr. Forrester. We’ll secure your bags here and deliver them later.”
* * *
LUKE NODDED CURTLY.
He
