Ramona and the Renegade. Marie Ferrarella
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hadn’t done it justice. She’d done her homework, of course. She knew the financials by heart, understood that it wasn’t just a little mountain lodge. But she hadn’t been at all prepared for a place that looked as though stepping through the doors would be to walk back in time. For a place that instantly made her think of ball gowns and afternoon teas, of hot toddies sipped by a roaring fire.
She hadn’t been prepared to be enchanted.
This isn’t about enchantment, she could practically hear Robert saying. It’s about business.
And with that the enchantment dropped away. How did they heat that many rooms, no doubt drafty after withstanding nearly a hundred winters? Radiators, probably. Radiators installed by Civil War veterans. How often did the radiators break down? Hadley sighed. However enchanting the hotel was on the outside, she had to meet her numbers or else she’d be in exile a whole lot longer than she’d like. And even enchantment got old.
She considered her strategy. Come in like an ordinary guest and spend the weekend looking for ways to economize, ways to increase occupancy. Shameless romance was one angle to play, she mused as she drove past the white, Victorian-style lampposts that marched up the access road to the hotel. Hopefully, they had an in-house consultant for that part, because that one she was going to have to delegate.
At the pillared portico of the hotel, Hadley paused for a moment. Up close, the Hotel Mount Jefferson was all her first glimpse had promised. The front facade of the building gleamed with broad windows. Marble steps led up to a green-carpeted porch where a small fleet of shiny brass luggage racks held the bags of departing guests. To one side sat an antique sleigh, painted gleaming red. Christmas was drawing near and whoever ran the place was laying it on just right, she admitted.
The valet opened her door. “Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson. May I get your bags?”
“In the trunk.”
“Very good.” He passed her a green ticket in trade for her keys. “If you’ll just call this number when you get to your room, we’ll have your bags brought right up for you.”
Hadley walked up the steps and over to the sleigh. The cut glass lamps reflected the daylight, the brass fittings gleamed. Someone at the hotel paid attention to detail, she thought, tracing the graceful curve of the front panel. Someone knew the little things counted.
A smiling doorman in a caped greatcoat opened the wide white front door with its curling brass handles. “Welcome, miss,” he said, tipping his cap. Hadley stepped through the door and straight back to the turn of the previous century.
For a moment, she simply stopped and stared, carried back to a time when the world was a slower, more graceful place. Nineteen oh three, or so her research said. From where she stood, the lobby seemed to stretch the entire length of the east wing of the building, all space and light, airy and open. Ornate white pillars soared to the coffered ceiling twenty feet overhead, their inset panels gleaming with gold luster, capitals at the top curling elegantly. Overhead, bronze-and-crystal chandeliers threw a warm glow that competed with the sunlight spilling in the enormous picture windows.
And yes, there was a carved granite fireplace with a leaping blaze. All she needed was a fancy-dress ball and a hot toddy before bed to make the fantasy complete.
Shaking her head, Hadley approached the front desk.
“Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson.” The young, au burn-haired and obviously pregnant clerk gave her a friendly smile. Angie from Albany, or so her badge said.
“Checking in, name of Stone,” Hadley said, sliding her credit card over the polished wood. “I know I’m early but I was hoping you might have something ready.”
Angie looked at her apologetically. “I can take your card and get you signed in, but we won’t have any rooms ready in your class until at least two-thirty. I’m sorry, but we just had a big group check out. We were full up last night.”
Impressed despite herself, Hadley raised a brow. “Full?”
“Oh yes. A big corporate meeting.”
Hundred percent occupancy, Hadley mused. Perhaps things weren’t quite hopeless. Maybe it was just a matter of making some cuts to control costs, and things would be fine.
“All right, you’re all set.” Angie handed her card back. “If you’ll just come by at two-thirty, we should be able to get you in. In the meantime, Cortland’s downstairs is open for lunch, and we have a complimentary afternoon tea at two. We also have changing rooms if you want to go ski. The shuttle runs to the slopes about every fifteen minutes.”
Balls. Afternoon tea. Hot toddies by the fire. “Thank you so much,” Hadley said. “It’s perfect.”
Afternoon tea was set up in the semicircular conservatory that arched off the lobby, a fantasy of white wicker and greenery. Hadley poured a cup of Earl Grey and picked up a pair of the pretty little tea sandwiches. Gorgonzola and pear on rye, watercress on white, no crusts. Balancing plates, she settled in a chair near one of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was breathtaking, the snow-topped mountains across the valley practically sitting in her lap.
A burst of laughter had her glancing over at a couple settled side by side on a wicker love seat. And for a sudden, lost moment, she imagined herself as the pretty young blonde, sitting next to the handsome man who looked at her with love.
Hadley’s pleasure fizzled as her imagination suddenly failed her. She stared at the couple as though they were exotic creatures at the zoo. Were they really happy? How long would it last? “You have too much money,” her father reminded her often. “You have to be cautious.” Which was an easy thing to do with the men she ran into, who either feared her or pursued her for the thrill of getting near Robert Stone.
Anyway, what was she really missing? An icy détente like her parents’ marriage? Any of the countless paths to divorce that she’d seen her relatives and acquaintances follow? Acquaintances, because she hadn’t become friends with anyone since she’d left school, her classmates scattered to whatever ports of luxury or business they or their families fancied. There had never been time. It was hard to hook up for dinner when you were always on a plane somewhere or staying in the office late for a telecon with the Tokyo office.
It was easy to fall into the trap of wishing for love, here in a place outfitted like a movie set. For wasn’t that what love was—a movie fantasy? Among real people, infatuation waned and affection was always conditional; she’d learned that lesson long ago. It depended on what you could do for people. Far safer to remain on her own.
Even though she always had had a soft spot for the movies…
Setting aside her teacup, Hadley rose. It was just the demotion, that was all. A walk would get her out of this funk. A walk and a chance for some fresh air would make her stop taking stock of her life and coming up wanting.
Gabe pulled the truck into its parking place at the side of the hotel and turned off the engine, rolling his shoulders to relax them. He hadn’t really meant the part about driving the laundry himself, but who’d have figured that he didn’t have anyone in the place with a Class A truck license? He definitely wasn’t crazy about being away from the hotel for several hours in the middle of the day. Cell phone reception was so bad in the mountains that he could hardly connect most of the time.
If he had to be away, at least he had the staff for it. He’d never understood managers who preferred to surround themselves with ineffectual subordinates. He wanted people who knew how to think, who could act without direction when necessary. Management held challenges enough without setting up a brainless ant colony that fell apart when you weren’t around.
As a result, he’d been able to mostly enjoy what was a gorgeous day, with a sky so brilliantly blue it hurt the eyes, and a snow-covered landscape still new enough to be charming. It had felt kind of like playing hooky. The brightly clad figures whizzing down the slopes of the ski area opposite the hotel reminded him that working Saturday wasn’t normal for everybody. One of these days he needed to find time for the slopes.