that bad. And some old cow on the board of directors has a soft spot for the place, so they need justification. We’re it.”
Eric leaned back in his chair. “Look, Bill, I came here to do a job and I’m not turning in a phony report. Plan on sending the team as scheduled. My reputation aside, there are people here to consider.”
His associate snorted. “People? I’m sorry, I thought I was talking to Eric Stanton. Are the holidays making you soft?”
Cindy Warren’s green-gray eyes flashed through his mind. “No—I guess I’m just tired.”
“Have you met the GM?”
“Yeah.” Oh, yeah.
“Is she on to you yet?”
Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nope, she’s not on to me yet.” But she’s already under my skin.
2
CINDY TRIED TO ERASE Eric Quinn’s image from her mind as she approached the executive meeting room. If ever there was a time not to be distracted by an attractive guest, it was now, when the fate of her staff depended on her. Worry niggled the back of her mind. Working in the close confines of the hotel, co-workers rapidly became like family, and she felt responsible for their future.
In the two years since Harmon Hospitality had purchased the Chandelier House, she and her staff had received countless memos from the home office mandating changes that would force their beloved hotel to fit into a corporate mold. So far, she had resisted. Her employees had no concept of a corporate direction—at any given time, most of them had no idea which direction was up. Yet somehow jobs were done and guests were delighted enough to return time after time.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said, flashing a cheerful smile around the room as she walked to the head of the long table. Six directors and a handful of assorted managers chorused greetings and exchanged barbs while vying for a choice doughnut from the boxes being passed around.
The meeting room reeked of the mingling brews gurgling from appliances in the corner: regular coffee, cappuccino, sassafras tea and something scarlet dripping from the juicer. Cindy wrinkled her nose and refilled her cup with black coffee.
“New haircut, Cindy?” Joel Cutter, the food and beverage director, covered a smile by biting into a powdered doughnut.
Amidst the good-natured chuckling, Cindy threw him her most withering look, which didn’t faze him. A valued employee and personal friend, Joel oversaw the restaurant, the lounge and catering. Hot coffee sloshed over the edge of her happy-face mug as she set it on the table. She tucked herself into an upholstered chair, ignoring the unsettling lump at her back. “Pass the doughnuts. And thanks for the opening, Joel. We’ll begin with the hair salon. Amy?”
All eyes turned to the wincing rooms director, who was shaking white pills from one of the four bottles sitting on the table in front of her. She downed them with a drink of the scarlet liquid. “If it wasn’t for Jerry, I’d say turn the place into an ice-cream parlor. I talked the new stylist into staying through tomorrow, but after that, we’ll be shorthanded again.” Amy smiled sheepishly. “Jerry said she hasn’t stopped crying since you left, boss.” The room erupted into more laughter.
Cindy waved to quiet the melee. “Ha, ha, very funny. Seriously, what seems to be the problem with keeping a qualified stylist?”
Amy leaned forward. “Most hairdressers I’ve interviewed want to keep their skills sharp in areas other than simple cuts, like perming and coloring. In my opinion, we need to offer a full range of services.”
Nodding, Cindy made a few notes on a yellow legal pad. “Fine.”
Amy angled her head. “And it would help if Jerry—”
“—would agree to wait on female customers,” Cindy finished for her. “I know. But Jerry’s good at what he does, and we can’t afford to lose him. He’s a legend.”
“Much like your new hairdo,” Joel mumbled into his napkin, prompting more laughter.
Ignoring him, she shifted her gaze to Samantha Riggs, director of sales. “How’s business, Sam?”
“Never better,” Sam replied, completely at ease in full Klingon war regalia, including the lumpy forehead mask. “If the Trekkies are happy with the way we handle the regional conference, we’re bound to get the business of the Droids and the Fantasms.” She adjusted her chain-metal sash for emphasis.
Cindy hoped her smile wasn’t as shaky as it felt. Although the buying power and loyalty of the role-playing groups was strong, she’d heard the hotel was getting quite a reputation at headquarters as well—as the Final Frontier.
Sam counted off on her black-tipped fingernails as she spoke. “The crystal readers will be here at the end of the week, the vampires are arriving at midnight on Saturday and the adult toy trade show starts next Monday.”
Panic seized Cindy. “Adult toys next Monday?”
“Isn’t that corporate fellow arriving next Monday?” Joel asked casually, reaching for a honey cruller.
Cindy nodded, trying to mask her alarm. She didn’t mind hosting the X-rated trade show, but the timing couldn’t have been any worse.
“Let’s hope he has a sense of humor,” Amy chirped.
“And a sex life,” Manny interjected.
“Don’t worry,” Joel said, “Cindy has cornered the market on celibacy.”
“You’re a laugh a minute, Joel,” Cindy said dryly, ignoring the burst of applause. Joel and his wife were constantly trying to fix her up, but their matchmaking attempts had produced one disaster after another. “Sam, let’s keep the trade show as low-profile as possible, okay?”
Sam nodded convincingly. “You want low-profile, Cindy—you got low-profile.”
“Said the woman in the Klingon costume,” Manny pointed out.
“Hey, whatever makes the customer happy,” Sam said smoothly.
Cindy looked to William Belk, director of engineering, a burly fellow who rarely spoke. Smiling broadly, she asked, “William, how goes the search for the perfect lobby Christmas tree?”
He glanced around uneasily, twisting his cap in his big hands. “The nursery is still looking.”
Cindy’s stomach pitched. “We’re running out of days in the month of December,” she said with mustered good humor. “I’d like to see the tree up and decorated before our visitors arrive next Monday.”
“Uh, yeah.”
She smiled tightly and wrote herself a note to follow up with the nursery. After discussing a few administrative details with the comptroller and the human resources manager, she glanced at Joel and lifted one corner of her mouth. “Would you like to close out the meeting, or is my hair too distracting?”
“I’ll try to be strong,” Joel responded fiercely, then added, “Farrah.”
Cindy
