asked hopefully.
Kristy cut into a crab cake that was golden brown on the outside and white and flaky inside. “Not exactly.” She dabbed a bite of it into the river of yellow remoulade sauce on her plate.
“Partially booked then,” Doug ascertained, a worried frown creasing his square face.
Kristy did not want to be discussing her business problems in front of Connor Templeton. But unless she wanted to lie, there was no helping it. She looked at her mother and brother resolutely. “I’m in the process of trying to hire a concierge slash assistant hotel manager, as well as a chef, handyman and several maids.”
Maude nodded. “I saw your Help Wanted sign out front.”
“But in the meantime, I am going through Aunt Ida’s old booking records and sending out brochures to travel agents and groups that used to hold business conferences here,” Kristy continued. She sipped her tea.
“But you still don’t have any bookings?” Doug asked.
Kristy’s throat felt parched. Wondering how much worse the familial inquisition was going to get, she said somewhat hoarsely, “I have to open first.”
“Actually,” Connor interjected, as he reached across the table and gave her hand a brief reassuring squeeze, “I think my sister Daisy rented a cottage here, and so did her new husband, Jack Granger.”
“When they were first getting to know each other,” Kristy remembered, thankful for the gentle steering of the conversation away from what her brother considered her business mistakes.
“I still don’t see how you’re going to make any money here, never mind enough to live on and put the girls through college,” Doug said worriedly. He looked at Connor, man-to-man, and asked, “What were you and your partner willing to pay for this place?”
“That is not dinner table conversation,” Kristy interrupted, with a telling look at her daughters.
To Kristy’s relief, Doug backed off, albeit reluctantly, and the rest of the meal was devoted to discussing the wonders of the South Carolina autumn.
“Wonderful dinner, Kristy,” Connor said.
She smiled and rose, picking up plates in both hands. “My mother helped me cook it.”
“And we’re not finished yet,” Maude said, getting up to help clear the table. “We still have dessert and coffee.”
“Well, my hats off to both chefs,” Connor said, just as a knock sounded on the door and a handsome blond man in his mid-forties walked in.
“I’M HARRY BOWLES,” the stranger said in a charming British accent, as Kristy walked across the room to greet him. “And I’ve come to apply for the concierge job advertised in this morning’s newspaper.”
She turned her back to the lodge dining room, where the rest of the family sat, watching with an annoying amount of interest, and guided Harry back out into the lobby.
“I’d like an interview with the hotel management as soon as possible.”
“I’m Kristy Neumeyer, the resort owner and manager.” Kristy shook his hand, noting that Harry had a firm, businesslike grip. “And if you like, we could do it now,” she said, aware that that would mean missing dessert with her family, but happy for anything that would cut short her brother’s annoying questioning.
“Everything okay?” Connor Templeton walked up to them and nodded at Harry Bowles. “Nothing has happened to Winnifred, has it?”
“Winnifred…?” Kristy said. Obviously, the two men knew each other quite well.
“Deveraux-Smith.” Connor supplied the rest of the name, before nodding again at Harry Bowles. “Harry here has been her butler for years.”
“Twenty to be exact,” the man replied as he straightened the lapels on his exquisitely cut dark business suit. “And, no, nothing is wrong. I am simply here to apply for the job. I resigned my other position this afternoon and find myself in need of work and a place to stay. And while I could check into a hotel or rent an apartment, I prefer to simply take another position right away.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. “My résumé is inside.” He waited expectantly while Kristy opened it. “As you can see, my talents are extensive and varied. I believe I would make an excellent addition to your staff.”
No kidding, Kristy thought, running down the list of Harry’s talents. “I’m not sure the salary I am offering is going to be enough for someone of your background,” she said.
“Why don’t you let me decide that?” he suggested.
“If you’ll excuse us.” Kristy looked at Connor, then took Harry by the elbow and guided him toward the front desk. “Why don’t we step into my office?” she said. “We can talk privately there.”
CONNOR HAD NO IDEA what Kristy and Harry said to each other behind closed doors. But it was clear when they emerged that Kristy had hired herself a concierge and assistant hotel manager. She gave him a key. “Cottage 1 is right next to the lodge. You can get settled in this evening and I’ll show you around tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Harry said. He tipped an imaginary hat to Kristy, nodded at Connor and left by the same doors he had come in.
“Your mother is serving ice cream in the dining room. She’d like to know if you want to join the rest of the family,” Connor said.
“Sure,” Kristy answered as the telephone rang. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”
As Connor headed off, he heard Kristy scrambling for a pen and paper and talking in the background.
“Friday, October 15? Yes, we do have availability for that. Twenty-five rooms. Hmm, let me see here. Yes. I think we can do it. Absolutely. No problem. I’ll fax you the cost breakdown first thing tomorrow morning. Thank you!”
“Got a booking?” Connor said, when she slipped into her seat at the table.
Kristy grinned. “A group of twenty-five insurance agents from the Oak Park area of Chicago. They used to come here for their annual sales conference, and bring their spouses. For the past two years they went to another resort, but there was a mix-up in reservations and the place that was supposed to house them, on Kiawah Island, suddenly can’t. So they’re coming here instead.”
“That’s great,” Connor said, looking surprisingly happy for her, considering that he was still trying to buy her out. Kristy noted that Maude and Doug, on the other hand, appeared ambivalent about her first success. As if they were glad she was getting some business, but not so happy that bookings would delay her going back to North Carolina to pursue what they felt was her true calling.
“The peach ice cream was yummy, Mommy,” Susie said, as she and Sally yawned and pushed their empty ice cream dishes away.
Kristy smiled. “Thank Grandma—she made it for you.”
The twins chorused, “Thank you.” And yawned again.
“They
