Chapter Five
Darcy
Thirteen days until Christmas
The open fire was a huge hit with the O’Sullivans, who had just returned to the Inn and come in from the cold. Last night Darcy had wondered whether Myles Cunningham was going to sit and enjoy it like they were doing now. Part of her had hoped he would; the other part of her was so uncomfortable around him that she was relieved when he disappeared up to the top floor.
‘It’s really coming down out there,’ Darcy sympathised as the parents tried to warm up. They’d taken off their coats but still looked bedraggled and in need of respite. The rain had started a few minutes ago and was already hammering against the window panes. ‘How was dinner?’
‘It was wonderful,’ the mum, Adele, replied, but Darcy could tell she was about five minutes away from collapsing with utter exhaustion. Manhattan was bigger than you realised and while the phrase ‘it’s only a few blocks away’ conjured up a pleasant, meandering walk, Darcy knew that to out-of-towners those few blocks could be torturous if you were already tired, if the weather was as bad as it was now, and if you had kids in tow. The children weren’t very old either and the way they were whining, Darcy suspected this guest had reached the end of her tether.
‘This fire is a godsend.’ Adele’s eyes lit up momentarily until she forced herself back into mummy mode. The kids looked like they’d had enough instruction for one day and were fractious. ‘Come on, kids, let’s go and get into some dry clothes, tuck you up for the night.’
When both boys dialled the whining up a notch, Darcy whispered to Adele before crouching down so she was at the boys’ eye level. ‘How about you all get changed, then come down to the fire and I’ll make you each a cup of hot cocoa.’ The parents’ shoulders relaxed but not as much as when Darcy added, ‘If you’re good’ – she looked at each child in turn – ‘I’ll even make some s’mores.’
‘What are they?’ the youngest wanted to know.
‘They’re a big treat with chocolate and marshmallows.’
It was all it took. Eyes wide, they were perfectly compliant when it came to their parents’ instructions and the mum mouthed a thank you to Darcy as they took the stairs.
This is what Darcy loved: going that extra mile for guests to lift their experience from good to fabulous. The mum had leapt at her suggestion, willing to try anything when Darcy sought her approval before making her offer. They’d expected to come back to their accommodation and collapse into bed, and in a bigger establishment they may have gone into a restaurant or ordered room service, selecting cocoa from the menu. But what Darcy was learning more and more now she’d worked somewhere smaller were the little tweaks you could offer guests.
Darcy went about preparing the ingredients she’d need. Rupert was finishing up and she assured him she’d take it from here. He went off home and she took out the Graham crackers, a block of chocolate, a packet of marshmallows and some wooden skewers, plates, cups and cocoa powder. She brought a pan of milk up to temperature and whisked through the cocoa powder, and when it was hot she switched off the heat and put a lid over the pan so it was ready when the family returned downstairs. She took everything through to the lounge on an oval platter just as the two boys came downstairs with their dad, Troy.
‘Now, which one of you is Saul and which one is Jarrod?’ Darcy asked as Troy settled himself into the sofa opposite the fire.
The littlest blond boy announced he was Saul and at the same time the taller of the two said Jarrod.
‘Well please, call me Darcy.’ She held up two skewers. ‘Take one each.’ The boys’ eyes lit up as they stretched out their hands to lay claim to the thin pieces of wood. ‘S’mores are a favourite of mine, and very American.’
They were full of energy, eager to get going with the proceedings.
‘I ate a lot in my childhood.’ She whispered so their dad didn’t overhear. ‘They’re terrible for your teeth.’
Both boys sniggered conspiratorially.
Darcy grinned. She was having fun making this a Christmas vacation they’d surely remember. ‘Now, see those marshmallows, you need to put one on the end of the skewer, then lay that down here.’ She pointed to the clean plates and stood supervising.
‘I appreciate this.’ Troy, his eyes open now his wife had come to join them, watched on as Darcy had the boys line up halves of Graham crackers and place a square of chocolate on top of one half each.
‘Mum, can we make these again when we go home?’ the boys asked Adele.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’
‘Pleeeeeease!’ they chorused.
Darcy carried on instructing the boys on how to toast the marshmallows and when they understood the task she lifted the glass in front of the fire to expose the flames. ‘I made these every Christmas as a little girl. It was my dad’s favourite thing to do. My dad wasn’t allowed too many, Mom said he’d be bigger than Santa and he’d have no teeth if he did, but it never put me off.’ The boys’ giggles filled the room. The only year Darcy had ever missed the festive tradition of s’mores was when she’d had braces and they were at the top of the list of what not to eat, along with all the other treats teenagers loved. Sometimes she swore the dentist made half the stuff up to turn them all into health nuts until their teeth were straight. ‘Now, we all know how important it is to clean our teeth, don’t we?’ She looked at each boy in turn, pulling Jarrod back from the fire and explaining he needed to straighten his arm and rotate the stick so that the outside of the marshmallow could turn slowly golden.
‘We know,’ the boys said, probably worried that if they didn’t say it, they wouldn’t be allowed the delectable treats.
‘Like this?’ Saul rotated his skewer, the concentration written across his brow.
‘That’s exactly right. You know, I think that’s nearly done.’ She moved over to his brother. ‘Yours too. Now, carefully take them over to your plates.’ They did as told. ‘Now lay the marshmallow on top of the square of chocolate sitting on the Graham cracker. That’s it. Now, put the other half on top.’ She watched them as they intently did as asked. ‘Push it down gently but firm enough to hold the marshmallow in place, and at the same time pull the skewer.’
‘Can we eat them?’ Jarrod’s smile matched Saul’s.
‘Count to sixty to give them a chance to cool and for the chocolate to melt, and then you’re good to go,’ she beamed. And when she turned around, there, leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, was Myles Cunningham, who looked like he’d been watching them for quite a while.
‘Is it time for hot cocoa?’ She addressed Adele and Troy, leaving Myles to his own devices as he moved towards the table near the bar to peruse the newspapers. She wondered if he’d be brave enough to sit in here with a family around. It didn’t seem his sort of thing. He seemed more of a fine-dining, peace-and-quiet type gentleman. Even at the party in London he hadn’t seemed to let go with his colleagues. Perhaps it wasn’t something he ever allowed himself to do.
‘That would be lovely,’ Troy answered. ‘Cocoa all round, I think. I’m not sure the kids will sleep after their sugar load, but what the heck – we’re on holiday.’ He earned himself a kiss from his wife, who looked twenty times more relaxed than she had when they’d returned to the Inn earlier.
Darcy knew she couldn’t be rude so asked Myles, ‘Can I interest you in a cocoa, Mr Cunningham?’ Funny, she called him Myles in her head but tried to address him formally out loud even though he insisted she didn’t.
‘It’s Myles, and no thanks, but I would be interested in seeing what other drinks you have.’
‘Are you sure? Cocoa and s’mores are on the house, all part of the festive fun.’ Her smile almost had him, she could tell.
‘I don’t think my stomach could handle one of those things. They look lethal.’
‘I ate them all the time as a kid,’ she confessed, ‘but they’re definitely a sugar hit.’ She retrieved a menu from the front desk, handed it to him and excused herself. ‘I’ll give you a chance to make your choice and you can let me know when I’m back. Drinks are charged to the room or you can pay cash straight away if you’d prefer.’ She had a sneaky suspicion all of his expenses would be covered by his company.
‘Adding on the room is fine.’ His eyes still hadn’t moved from hers to the menu.
Darcy escaped to the kitchen. Myles certainly wasn’t lacking in appeal. With those melting-chocolate eyes and dark hair cropped neatly, and the charisma carried on his refined British accent, he’d almost reeled her in. But her previous encounter with him couldn’t be forgotten.
Darcy made four cups of hot cocoa, adding an extra splash of ice-cold milk to the boys’ mugs. If she knew anything about little kids it was that they liked to eat and drink anything tasty at full speed ahead – she’d once seen Gabriella’s son Kyle eating cake like the entire thing would disappear if he didn’t do it quickly enough – and she hated to think Saul and Jarrod would burn their mouths.
‘Here we go.’ She returned to the lounge to find Adele hugging her boys, one at each side, and Troy and Myles deep in conversation, sharing a laugh.
Darcy handed the cocoa round, reminding the boys to blow across the top and cool the liquid down before they drank it. Adele suggested more s’mores another night as the men continued to talk between themselves and Darcy pulled the glass front down over the flames of the fire again for safety. She often did so unless it was later in the evening and only adults were around. The glass was so clean it didn’t lessen the effect when it was in place, and, now, the glow filtered through the room along with the low lighting from the tall lamp in the corner. She’d left the curtains open onto the street. It was nice for guests to look out and see the personality of the neighbourhood, part of the big city, and anyone who passed by could be inquisitive about this little inn that was becoming more and more special to Darcy.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Carrying plates, she addressed Myles, who had left Troy to it and picked up a leaflet about nearby attractions from the collection on the table set among the newspapers. She doubted this man had done much sightseeing at all in his time here. It was a pity – there was so much to discover. New York was far too special to waste your time cooped up in an office day and night.
‘I’ll have a bourbon, neat, no ice please.’
‘Of course.’ She took the plates through to the kitchen before returning to the bar in the lounge. It was a modest size, on the opposite corner to the front desk, so tucked away, but there were two stools at the front of the mahogany top on which drinks were served. She found a glass, lifted the tongs for ice before she remembered he’d requested none to be added, and poured a single measure into the vessel.
‘Thank you.’ He sipped the liquid and it seemed to instantly relax him.
‘Busy day today?’
‘A busy afternoon,’ he confirmed, ‘and not a good one.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Darcy used a cloth to wipe around the bottle where a drip had made its way down the outside and replaced it on the shelf behind. She tried to treat Myles as any other guest. It would make his stay here more comfortable for the both of them.
‘Let’s just say my meeting this afternoon could’ve gone better.’
Darcy was used to strangers telling her their woes. For some reason, the hotel environment became a bit of a confession box for some guests, a sounding board for others. She leaned against the bar. With her other guests in the comfort of the sofa and armchairs at the other end of the room as they sipped their hot cocoa, she had time to listen. ‘What happened?’
‘My client wasn’t happy with the information I presented them with. It happens, but I was sure this one was in the bag.’
She nodded, smiled. She wondered whether it was only that that was stressing him out. The tension in his neck was visible, the way he held his drink and stared into it whenever he looked away from her. But it wasn’t for her to pry.
‘My family are bothering me too.’ It looked like she didn’t need to ask many more questions. The information was spilling out now he’d begun. ‘Across the miles, can you believe?’ He swigged more of his bourbon.
‘How can they possibly be doing that?’
‘My parents do it well, believe me. Sometimes it’s subtle.’ Another gulp. ‘There’s always been a pressure.’
‘In your career?’ She had his attention and she added, ‘Lucky guess.’
His drink was almost gone and Darcy poured him another at his nod of approval. He’d better slow down a bit or he’d have family, plus work, and a hangover to face in the morning.
‘It was a good guess. But it’s my personal life and their incessant need to obsess about it that gets me down. The only thing they nag me about with regards to my career is that I work so far away now. They want me back on English turf. What gets me is that my dad was a businessman until he retired, he travelled extensively – lord knows we didn’t see him much – so when he’s telling me America and England are worlds apart, it seems hypocritical.’
‘Maybe he just wants you close by,’ she suggested, even though she didn’t know enough about the situation to give him advice. ‘Parents get more like that as they get older. My family were all for me travelling around and seeing the world, there was no hurry to come back, but the way my parents have been since I returned, I can tell how happy they are.’
‘You’re lucky.’
There was more to this than Darcy could work out right now. ‘Perhaps your parents miss you.’
He looked up and when he’d held her gaze longer than was comfortable, Darcy was relieved the O’Sullivan family had started to make a move. She wanted to be nice to all her guests, but there was a fine line between politeness and intrusion and she didn’t want to cross it.
She waved away efforts from Troy and Adele to clear the cups and wipe up a small spill on the little round table the boys had knelt at for their cocoas. She said goodnight, took the crockery out to the kitchen and came back to wipe down the area. The floor would need a clean too: there were crumbs on the rug from the Graham crackers, debris from shoes had come off near the sofa. She grabbed a broom from the closet in the hall and swept up. She picked up most of the crumbs from the rug by hand – the more thorough hoovering could wait until the cleaner came in the morning. She was rostered on three times each week to come in and do the bulk of the housework – washing floors, dusting, cleaning the bathrooms in each apartment – and it was Darcy’s responsibility to stay on top of the rest.
Keeping things shipshape was even more essential when such a major publication was going to give them valuable coverage. Sofia always held back when it came to putting the Inn in the limelight, but you couldn’t afford to be in the shadows in this game and already Darcy had upped the amount they added to their Twitter feed and Facebook page, and had started an Inglenook Instagram account for potential customers on there. She couldn’t wait to share more pictures of the Inn beneath a blanket of snow when the time came. Those pictures would capture the essence of the place and raise its profile to a new level.
‘Am I keeping you?’ Myles wanted to know after she’d returned the broom to the closet, swept up the pile of dirt with a dustpan and brush and deposited it in the bin down the hall.
‘I’m here as long as you need me.’ She felt her cheeks colour. What she meant was she would stay up until he no longer needed her to get him drinks. Strictly the bar wasn’t open after midnight, but she knew Sofia made an exception for some guests. She told Darcy it was one of the little things that boosted her reputation from a nice little inn to a damn fine establishment. They’d laughed over the description, but already Darcy knew there was a great deal of truth behind the words.
‘I think I’ll take this and sit in front of the fire.’ Myles moved from his stool and took his drink over to the curved window, looking out at the street. ‘The rain has stopped.’
‘I don’t mind the rain. It’s soothing.’
‘When you’re tucked up inside,’ he smiled, as he turned to face her before going back to looking out the window.
‘You’re right.’ Darcy decided not to add any more kindling to the fire. It was crackling away well enough already and added a beautiful orange glow to the sand-coloured walls. Myles looked content in this light, or maybe it was the two bourbons in quick succession that took his troubles away. She busied herself at the desk tidying away invoices and receipts. She turned the computer off and went out to the kitchen, where she put all the dirty crockery into the dishwasher and started the cycle, ensured the ovens were off and the back door locked, and then returned to the lounge. Myles was in the same place she’d left him.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked.
‘I wonder if it’ll snow.’ He was completely distracted.
She joined him at the window. ‘I hope so. New York in the snow is something else; you’ll think it’s magical.’
‘The fire is wonderful.’ He turned his attention to the flames flickering away.
Darcy sat on the edge of the armchair opposite. ‘We’re lucky to have this at the Inn. If we wanted to put a fireplace in now we wouldn’t be allowed to, but it’s already there so we’re good as long as we use special firewood that is less smoky when it burns.’
He was smiling at her as she spoke. ‘It’s a lovely touch.’ He looked around him, up at the high ceilings lurking above, the bookcases lining the walls. ‘This is a special place.’
‘Nicer than your bigger hotels, isn’t it?’ she probed.
‘Definitely. I haven’t been here long but it’s easy to forget I’m not coming back to an apartment. It’s much more personal.’ When she pushed her hands against her knees and went to stand, he stopped her, with the words, ‘Stay a while longer.’
If it was any other guest – the young couple in number two, or one of the O’Sullivans – she wouldn’t think twice. But they didn’t make her insides flutter when they looked at her, make her conscious of everything she said, remind her of their assertion of authority that had cost her a job she loved.
‘So, you’re excited about the Christmas tree arriving.’ He said it before she’d even sat down and so as not to be rude she found herself staying put.
‘I am. We’re so late this year, a mix up with the ordering of the tree, but I can’t wait to get it ready. The boys upstairs will love it.’
A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘I’m sure they will.’
‘The family have asked for a tree to be delivered to their room too.’
‘You do that?’
‘Sure.’ She smiled. ‘We have boxes and boxes of decorations as we know guests don’t want to miss out.’
‘Ah yes, that’s right. I remember seeing it on the website.’ He let a small smile escape. ‘There was a little tick box if I wanted a tree to be arranged and set up.’
‘You didn’t tick it.’ He seemed surprised she knew. ‘It’s my job to know everything about my guests.’
‘Everything?’
‘Enough so they feel welcome,’ she clarified. ‘But not so much they feel like they’re on trial.’
He laughed properly this time. ‘That’s good to know.’
‘You can change your mind. I’m sure we can source a tree from somewhere. It seems a shame to have that enormous apartment and leave it without a bit of festive cheer.’
He smiled and said nothing until he asked, ‘Will you see your family this year?’
‘I’ll be working,’ she said.
‘Sounds familiar.’
‘Do you have siblings?’ She didn’t want him drawing any comparisons between them.
‘A brother, Winston.’
‘Does he work in a similar industry to you?’
Myles shook his head. ‘No, he’s in the construction business. He’s made quite a success of it. He’s the son who can do no wrong, with the job, a family, and all living under the non-existent British sun.’
He may have smiled but she detected a grain of truth in what he was saying. She wondered if resentment ran deep. ‘Do you get on?’
‘Famously. Always have. As kids we were best mates and we’ve stayed that way.’ He was definite. So no resentment, but something was amiss in the family. She’d got used to reading people in her line of work. Some people opened up to her – some so much she knew things she’d rather not – but others were content to have someone there for a while to listen to their woes but never revealed too much about themselves.
‘You must miss him.’
‘Yes and no. I think I’m too busy to think about it much. He wanted me to come home for Christmas, but to be honest, I would rather give the family shindig a miss.’
‘You have a big family Christmas?’
‘Every year.’ It didn’t sound like a good thing. ‘If you saw it you’d think you’d walked into a magazine spread of the perfect family Christmas.’
She didn’t probe any more. Hopefully this year at the Inn they’d make it one of his better Christmases.
‘Do you run this place full time?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘This is temporary. Sofia would usually be here, but she’s with her daughter in Switzerland.’
‘Would you like it to be a more permanent arrangement?’
‘I haven’t thought about it too much, but financially I don’t think Sofia could afford to employ anyone else.’ She shouldn’t be sharing this. ‘I’m sorry, forget I said anything.’
He held up his hands. ‘It won’t go any further, don’t worry. But I’m a businessman, I get it. And one thing I do know is that sometimes when you least expect it, things can turn around completely.’
She wouldn’t mind betting he also knew things could go the other way too, and fall apart. She hoped Sofia would take steps to stop that happening before it was too late, and had her fingers crossed the editor of the magazine doing the write-up in the New Year could go some way to propelling them into a different bracket.
‘So what’s Christmas like for you? Do you have siblings? Have a big family gathering?’ He interrupted her thoughts and, thankfully, made her relax so her forehead wasn’t all creased up in a frown.
‘I have a brother, Tate, who lives out in Connecticut near my parents, and I have a sister, Sarah, who moved to San Francisco with her husband last year.’
‘Do you all get along?’
‘We do. Sarah doesn’t always make it home for Christmas, so usually it’s Tate and I whenever we’re around – which isn’t always, given the nature of my work – and my parents host Christmas at their place.’ She leaned against the mantel, the warmth of the fire caressing her legs through her tights. She felt about ready to take off her shoes and put her feet up on the sofa, relax and let the busy day wash off of her. ‘It involves a lot of hugging when we arrive because we usually haven’t seen each other for ages. Mom and Dad are always in funny Santa aprons the second we get there and they’ll both be busy in the kitchen, perfecting the Christmas dinner. There’s always way too much food so we’ll have leftovers for days after.’
‘It sounds like a real family Christmas.’
‘It is.’ On the surface it was easy to think he’d had the same after he’d described his own experiences, but he’d said enough to tell her that wasn’t the case. Still, her heart warmed at the memory of sharing Christmas with her family, although she realised she was revealing far more than she usually did, and to a man she’d previously not felt much of a connection with.
‘What sort of food do you have?’ He asked the question as though he couldn’t wait to lose himself in someone else’s memories.
‘We usually have the ridiculously big turkey with all the trimmings. Dad insists on the oversized bird because he and Mom both like to make different things with it after Christmas. On Boxing Day we usually have a turkey salad for lunch because everyone is still so full from the day before. But then at dinner time everyone has forgotten about that so Dad makes my favourite.’
‘What’s that?’ He seemed genuinely interested.
She bit her lip at the guilty treat. ‘He gets a round loaf of sourdough, slices off the top and hollows it out but keeps the insides of the bread, which he chops into pieces. He fills the empty centre of the sourdough with a mixture of cheeses, onion, garlic – and, of course, turkey – and then tops it with more cheese plus chives and puts it in the oven. It comes out all golden and we sit close around the table dunking in pieces of bread, scooping up the insides.’
Myles let out a long breath. ‘You’re making me really hungry.’
‘I’m making myself hungry too,’ she laughed. ‘If you ever get the chance to make it, I can give you the recipe. I look forward to it every year. And Dad has promised that the day after Boxing Day he’ll bring it to me if I have to work.’
‘He sounds like a good man.’
‘He really is. He had some health problems a few years ago and we thought that was it.’ Her eyes swam as she recalled her dad being taken into the hospital after falling over. ‘They found a tumour on his brain but thankfully they removed every last piece of it. After that day he cut way back on work hours, learned to cook at evening classes and when he eventually retired he’d found his true vocation. In the kitchen.’
‘So he cooks now?’
‘When Mom lets him. She enjoys it too. Last year they went on a culinary tour of Italy. Next year they’re planning on Indonesia.’
Darcy drew in a breath. She’d shared more with him than she had with most other men she met. Her fleeting relationships when she was travelling around the world hadn’t warranted many heavy conversations about family and holiday arrangements. She shifted the focus back to him. ‘Does your mom cook, or both your parents?’
He swigged the last of his bourbon and set the glass on the coffee table. ‘I don’t think Dad could even make a couple of slices of toast without having to call for help.’
‘I don’t suppose cooking is everyone’s idea of fun.’
‘I enjoy it.’
‘You do?’ She failed to hide her surprise.
‘I rarely get the time, but one year my mum was sick and I took over the entire Christmas lunch – turkey and everything.’
‘Wow, I’m impressed.’
‘You should be. I even made my own stuffing.’
She smiled. This man kept surprising her, and recently it was in a good way.
‘You looked like you knew what you were doing with those s’mores earlier on,’ Myles commented, but then pulled a face. ‘Is that the right word?’
‘You got it right. And they were a real favourite in our house, so I must confess I have prior experience. Every year when I was little we’d have them on Christmas Eve, Tate, Sarah, and me fighting for the best toasting position in front of the fire. I always ended up feeling quite sick.’ She wondered what his traditions were. ‘What about you and your brother? What did you do on Christmas Eve?’
‘Early to bed, early to rise for us boys.’
‘Oh come on, you must’ve done something.’
‘We always left a mince pie for Santa and a glass of bourbon.’ He pulled a face, realising he was drinking the same thing.
She nodded, a little embarrassed that she kept forgetting he was a guest rather than a friend. Despite their history, he was easy to talk to. She tended to the fire as Myles finished his drink. It was almost eleven o’clock so she switched the damper to encourage the flames to lessen. It would stay warm for ages even when only the last embers remained. Sometimes Darcy wished she could sit here all night and watch it, doze off listening to the crackles.
‘It’s getting late, I’ve kept you,’ he said, as though he too had realised he was just another guest. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’ He looked tired in the same way he had earlier, like he was missing something or someone.
‘Goodnight, Myles.’
After he left she turned on the small lamp at the desk. She’d give the fire an hour to settle until its last remains glowed in the hearth. She opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and took out her knitting as it finally came to the end of her working day.
She wasn’t fast yet, nothing like her nanna had been, with her knitting needles going clickety-clack, clickety-clack, and she was nowhere near the speed of her friend Cleo at the Little Knitting Box. But after talking through the pattern with Cleo and selecting a snuggly soft brown yarn from her store in Inglenook Falls, Darcy had made a start and already this sweater for Kyle was actually starting to look like more than a few rows of yarn that could turn out to be anything. She’d have to show Cleo when she came into the city with Dylan. She’d invited them both for Christmas Eve and she really hoped they could make it. It would mean a lot to Darcy to show her friends that she was doing a good job here at the Inglenook Inn.
As she knitted, Darcy thought about their guest on the top floor. With every mention of Christmas she found it harder to gauge what Myles thought. He definitely had family issues, something Darcy was so glad she didn’t have. Gabriella had had her share when her parents divorced, Cleo too with a stepmother it took her a while to warm to, but Darcy and Isabella seemed to have solid backgrounds with only the merest hint of angst in their teen and early adult years. It was certainly something to be grateful for.
When Myles had asked her about the tree arriving in the morning, she’d seen a twinkle in his eye, one that suggested perhaps he was open to the season but felt that on his own it was barely worth the fuss.
But fuss was what Darcy liked to do when it came to going the extra mile for her guests.
She put down her knitting and booted up the computer again. She hoped she hadn’t misread his signals, because she had an idea. This man was stressed, working hard, and facing Christmas in an apartment all alone.
It only took a few clicks and she was done.
She settled back down by the fire and carried on knitting. She’d chosen to be mature, rise above her history with Myles Cunningham, and here was her chance to go above and beyond her requirements as a hotel manager. Because that was what it was all about – making the customer happy. Her guest was an Englishman in New York, but this year, he was going to have a wonderful Christmas. She’d make sure of it.