you have any recommendations for who can step in until we hire a permanent replacement?”
The man turned to retrieve a room key. “Abigail’s been hanging around here the past few days, studying the place and trying to learn what she can about the different jobs.”
He supposed that would make her insight into the staffing process more useful. “That was enterprising of her.”
Crandall smiled. “You’ll find Abigail is a fast learner.”
Seth decided to change the subject. “How many guests do you have currently?”
“We’re limiting our bookings to three guest rooms, the ones farthest from the construction. The noise level is a problem for the other rooms.” The man handed him the key. “You’ll be the exception. I have you in room six—top of the stairs and second room on the right.” He cast a furtive glance at Seth’s cane. “My sister and I occupy the first-floor suite. It’ll be vacant starting tomorrow if you prefer to have that space.”
Seth’s jaw tightened at this reminder of his perceived infirmity. But he merely nodded and turned toward the stairs. Though he’d long ago accepted that this was how he would be viewed, he still felt the sting each time it happened.
As he climbed the stairs he stepped deliberately, regardless of the pain. It helped him to concentrate on the job ahead. He would take a look at the state of the construction as soon as he freshened up from his trip.
All in all, from his initial look, the atmosphere here was overblown and cozy rather than elegant, rustic rather than refined. Nothing here spoke of sophistication and luxury.
Could he really count on Miss Fulton to handle the decor so that it was brought up to the judge’s normal standards? And to get it all done in time to wrap up by the end of the year?
Why couldn’t the judge have partnered him with someone who had more experience than the chatty young redhead?
How had his employer described her in his letter—witty, imaginative and charmingly spirited, a fast learner and an able partner? High praise from a man he’d always thought of as keenly perceptive.
But then again, the judge only knew her via correspondence. He’d never actually met Miss Fulton in person.
So, no offense to his employer, but he would form his own opinions about just how capable the woman actually was.
And so far, he was not impressed.
“Did you have a chance to look around yet?” Abigail had just taken a seat across the table from Mr. Reynolds in the hotel dining room.
He inclined his head. “I did.”
The man didn’t seem to be any more forthcoming now than he’d been earlier. “And what are your thoughts?” she prodded.
“In my opinion, having everything completed by Christmas is an ambitious goal, but it is definitely achievable.”
“Oh.” Was this something he and the judge had discussed? “I know Judge Madison is planning to visit over the holidays, but I wasn’t aware that that was our deadline.”
He gave her an infuriatingly superior look. “It’s always good to have an end date in mind when starting any project. And Christmas seems an appropriate one in this case, especially since Judge Madison will be in town.”
Choosing to ignore his tone, she smiled. “I shall defer to you on that since I understand you have experience overseeing this sort of work.”
“I have experience in many different areas.”
Goodness, did the man have to be so stiff and solemn all the time?
Della Long, who had taken over the kitchen when Norma Crandall became too ill, arrived to take their orders. Abigail performed the introductions, then they made their selections from the very limited menu.
Once they were alone again, Mr. Reynolds picked up the conversational reins. “Mr. Crandall introduced me to Walter Hendricks, the man handling the construction.”
Abigail nodded. “Mr. Hendricks and his two sons are good men and they do good work. You can see examples all over town, including the schoolhouse and the town hall.”
“So you know them personally?”
“Of course. It’s a small town. Most everyone here knows everyone else.” His lack of conversation was making it difficult for her to discern how he felt about things. “Did you have the opportunity to inspect their work?”
“Briefly. I plan to inspect it in more detail over the next few days.”
“Well, I’m certain you’ll be pleased with what you see.”
He merely nodded noncommittally.
Deciding things might go better if she learned something about him personally, she changed the subject. “I actually have a favor to ask.”
He raised a brow. “And that is?”
Abigail smiled at the touch of wariness in his tone. “It’s nothing onerous, I assure you.” She retrieved a small notebook and pencil from her pocket. “My brother, Everett, owns the local newspaper and I help occasionally. I’d like to interview you for the next issue.”
Mr. Reynolds frowned. “I can’t imagine anything about me would be noteworthy.”
Was he just being modest or did he really think so little of himself? “Everyone has a story of some sort to tell. Besides, folks are always interested to learn more when someone new moves to town. And the hotel renovation itself is big news around here.” She opened the pad. “You don’t mind, do you?”
His expression didn’t change but she sensed his hesitation. Or was it annoyance?
He finally waved a hand, as if in surrender. “Very well, but let’s keep it short. There’s not much to tell anyway.”
Careful to keep the note of victory from her expression, she smiled. “Thank you. Let’s start with you telling me something about yourself—where you’re from, your family, what exactly it is you do, that sort of thing.”
“I’m from Philadelphia and my job is that of property manager for Judge Madison.”
“And what does a property manager do?”
“Judge Madison doesn’t care much for travel. Whenever something needs close supervision on any of his out-of-town properties, I act as his on-site representative and handle whatever needs attention.”
“That sounds like a lot of responsibility. Judge Madison must have a great deal of faith in you.”
He shrugged.
Definitely a man of few words. Moving on... “And your family? Are you married?”
“No.”
