Family Feud. Barbara Boswell
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mouth tightened. “Are you always so argumentative, Mr. McGrath?”
“Always,” he assured her. “Usually, I’m even worse, but I’m on my best behavior today. I’m hoping to impress my superiors here at Halford House. How am I doing?”
Her father didn’t give her a chance to reply. “Please don’t take offense at anything Shelby says, Mr. McGrath. She’s wary of new acquaintances and...um...tries to test them. As for me, I’m happy and proud to share my forty-some years’ knowledge of the business with a man as brilliant and innovative as you.”
Shelby stared at her father as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Dad, may I remind you that this is the Garrett McGrath who put a Family Fun Inn on the same island as the Blue Springs Resort, sending their property value and stock into a free-fall. Who built a Family Fun Inn practically next door to the Snow Bird Hacienda in Aspen and caused its patrons to flee the state. Whose Family Fun Inns and their faithful retinue of T-shirt shops, themed burger joints, frozen yogurt stands and souvenir junk places have taken over formerly quaint little towns and turned them into tourist traps. I can recite the names of them, beginning with—”
“Stop, you’re embarrassing me!” Garrett’s blue eyes taunted her. “There’s no need to tout the spectacular success of Family Fun Inns. Just basking in the glow of your admiration is praise enough.”
“I do not admire you and I’m certainly not praising you!” cried Shelby.
“You take the bait every time, don’t you, honey?” Garrett surveyed her lazily. “Oh, yes, working here with you the next couple of months is definitely going to be interesting.”
“Couple of months?” both Shelby and her father chorused in pure dismay.
“Why not?” Garrett shrugged. “I haven’t taken a vacation in ages. Of course, I stay at Family Fun Inns all over the country throughout the year, but that’s work, not a vacation. So I think I’ll take one here. Sort of a busman’s holiday, if you will. A high-end one.”
Shelby felt a peculiar panic ripple through her, growing stronger the more she contemplated the prospect of a steady daily diet of Garrett McGrath. “You can’t stay here, Mr. McGrath,” she blurted out.
“Shelby!” There was nothing well modulated or polished in the roar that Arthur Halford emitted as he glared at his daughter. “Mr. McGrath is our guest. Our honored guest. He is welcome here as long as he cares to stay.”
The smile Garrett flashed at Shelby set her teeth on edge.
“Thanks, Art. I’ll take that cottage you so graciously offered me earlier and settle in. Of course, I’ll be flying home to our corporate headquarters in Buffalo for a day or so every week to stay in touch, but with faxes and teleconferences, I’ll be able to manage things very well from down here.”
“Your corporate headquarters are in Buffalo?” Halford repeated with forced joviality. “I hadn’t realized that.”
“The first Family Fun Inn was in Niagara Falls,” Garrett explained. “My family had ended up in Buffalo, after living in a string of cities. We were sort of like Gypsies, traveling from place to place.”
“That certainly fits,” muttered Shelby. She could easily visualize caravans of McGraths descending on one world-class resort after another, fleecing them of their worth.
Her father shot her a quelling glance, then turned to Garrett. “Well, we’re delighted you are here at Halford House, Mr. McGrath.” Halford was once again the quintessential host welcoming his guest. “September is an ideal time to learn the ropes of running, um, a place like this. Our peak season is in winter and early spring when freezing weather up north brings our guests here to Port Key for some sun and warmth.”
“Summer is peak season for Family Fun Inns,” Garrett said, “although we do well during school holidays, especially Christmas break. Our inns are swarming with kids during school vacations.” He smiled. “Speaking as the oldest of nine, I think kids are great. There can never be too many of them around. What are your facilities for children here at Halford House?”
Shelby and her father exchanged uneasy glances. When he hesitated to reply, she stepped in to tackle the question. “We don’t get very many children here,” she admitted. She felt as if she’d been called to the principal’s office, condemned by a failing grade. “Many of our guests are older,” she hastened to explain. “Their children are grown, with families of their own. We do have a wonderful children’s boutique in our arcade of shops that is filled with unique gifts for doting grandparents to buy. It does very well,” she added lamely.
“I’ve seen some of the guests around here and they aren’t all grandparents,” Garrett challenged. “There are younger people staying here.”
“We have many childless, two-income couples who like to come here to relax.” Shelby wondered why she felt so defensive and was irked that she did. “Then, of course, there are the couples who do have young children but who come here to be alone.”
“Leaving the kids behind,” Garrett said flatly.
“Where is it written that parents can’t take a vacation without their children?” Shelby flared.
“Shelby, you’re talking to a man who has built a chain of motels dedicated to the proposition of parents vacationing with their children,” her father reminded her. “We sincerely respect your position, Mr. McGrath, and we admire your incredible success,” he added with a fulsome smile.
Her father sounded like a fawning sycophant! Shelby gaped at him. Could this be the same man who’d always expounded at length on the horrors of having to cater to guests under twelve? Who’d considered banning teenagers from the premises—unless they were working here at less than minimum wage. It was safe to say that Arthur Halford did not dote on children. Shelby could personally attest to that, having grown up as one of his own.
Garrett glanced at his watch. “I have some calls to make,” he announced abruptly. He grabbed his sport coat and headed toward the door.
“Shelby will escort you to your cottage,” Halford offered at once. “And she will be at your disposal until we meet for lunch at one. I have a table reserved on the terrace—if that meets with your approval?” He glanced deferentially at Garrett.
“Lunch on the terrace at one sounds good to me,” affirmed Garrett.
It didn’t sound good to Shelby. It was just ten o’clock, which meant that she was doomed to spend three whole hours with the insufferable Garrett McGrath before passing him along to her father. She couldn’t do it, Shelby decided.
She turned to her father. “Dad, as you know, you gave me this morning off and I’ve already made plans. I can’t possibly—”
“Change your plans,” her father ordered, glaring balefully at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, I am still the one to give orders around here and I am ordering you to devote yourself to Mr. McGrath’s service.”
He turned to Garrett, all smiles once more. “You’ll be staying in cottage 101,” he added, naming one of the largest, most elegant and newly refurbished cottages on the grounds. Like the rooms and suites in Halford House’s main lodge, the outlying cottages comprising the complex had the full range of hotel services.
“I’m sure you’ll feel quite at home there, Mr. McGrath,” Halford continued expansively. “Presidents and royalty have stayed in 101 and been very pleased with the facilities.”
“Presidents, royalty, and now a McGrath,” Garrett remarked as they left the office, Shelby trailing slightly behind him. He seemed to be laughing at his own private joke.
And the joke was on her, Shelby was certain of that. They passed Miss York’s desk and Garrett bade her a cheerful goodbye. Unsmiling, the secretary acknowledged him with a grim nod.
“At least Miss York is still in character,” Shelby muttered as