by Angel Moore
She leaned forward with her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her fisted hands. “But those are the things that make the hotel like home. Momma liked people to know they were like family when they were here.”
He pushed his plate to the side and flipped to a page in his notes. “While I appreciate her sentiment, a hotel is not a home. People don’t come to a hotel to feel at home. They come to experience life unlike what they do every day.”
“I don’t agree.” She held out one hand, palm up. “Take Mr. Thornhill. He stays in the same room. I’d like to suggest we leave that room as it is. He may not want anything there to be removed.”
“Then I suggest you give it to him before he leaves. We cannot keep a room as it has been for twenty years to satisfy someone who visits on occasion.”
“But I like that room. Ma decorated that room. It hasn’t changed since the hotel opened.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the woman she’d grown to love and referred to as her mother. This time she meant the mother who had brought her into the world. The mother who’d died when she was a young girl.
“Please take anything you feel strongly about and put it in your residence. I have no objection to that.”
“No objection? You have no objection to me keeping something my mother made or purchased for this hotel?” The chair scraped across the floor as she stood. “I can assure you that nothing will be discarded without my express permission.” She flapped her napkin onto the table. “And that includes everything. Not one dish or doily.” She left the room, and the kitchen door swung back and forth on its hinges.
He had managed to upset her several times in just two days. How would they ever get the hotel ready for the shipment of furnishings in less than eight weeks if she insisted on overseeing everything herself?
* * *
The next morning Charlotte kneaded the bread again, knowing it would be too tough for anything but toast if she didn’t stop. She dropped the dough back into the wooden bowl and covered it with a towel. Then she sprinkled flour onto the table and rolled the dough she’d prepared earlier onto the surface.
She was greasing a loaf pan when Mrs. Atkins entered the kitchen.
“You are working early today.” The cook put her reticule on a shelf in the pantry and tied on her apron.
“I didn’t finish the baking last night.” She put the rolled dough into the loaf pan and set it aside. “I hope I’m not in your way.”
“You won’t be.” Mrs. Atkins pulled a large iron pan onto the front of the stove. “Why don’t you let me make you some biscuits and gravy before you head to church this morning?”
“You’re a dear.” Charlotte finished the last of her preparations for the bread and began to wash the dishes she’d used. “I couldn’t eat a bite, but I’m sure Michael and Sarah would love that.”
As soon as she said their names, the two of them came through the swinging door and dragged themselves to the table. Michael sat with his head hanging to one side, but Sarah didn’t fight her early-morning struggle. She dropped her head onto her crossed arms as she rested them on the table. Their nightclothes were adorable. Their mother had sewn them at the beginning of the summer. Charlotte would have to think about what they’d need to wear when school started in a few weeks.
The door opened again, and Nathan appeared. “Good morning to all of you.” He almost sang the words. Like some rooster crowing in a yard filled with hens who’d been up laying eggs. It was a sound no one wanted to hear this early.
“Shh.” Charlotte shushed him. “They just woke up.”
“That explains their nightclothes.” He picked up a mug from the shelf near the stove and poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. He looked at her then. “Which do not belong in this kitchen.”
She wiped her hands on a nearby towel and walked around the table in his direction. A lesser man would have expressed concern at her direct approach, but he seemed undeterred. “I’d like to see you for a moment,” she said. She pushed open the door and let it swish on its hinges behind her.
He walked into the dining room carrying his coffee and his Bible. He set both items on a table and pulled out a chair. “Would you like to sit?”
“No.” She folded her arms across her chest and counted to ten in her mind.
“I’ve upset you? And so early in the day.” He remained standing, but picked up his coffee and took a deep drink.
“You are here to handle things that relate to the hotel.” She pointed at the door. “Not to tell me how to raise those kids. And not to tell them what to do or not do.”
“What they do in the hotel kitchen is my business.”
“No. It is not.”
He put his cup back on the table and approached her. “Charlotte, the kids live here. I understand. But you’ve got to look at things through the eyes of a guest.” He pointed at the collection of tiny music boxes on the mantel of the fireplace. “I’m guessing your mother collected these.”
“Yes. They’re lovely.”
“I’m sure to someone like your mother they are lovely. But I promise you that Mr. Thornhill hasn’t noticed them.”
“Then what difference does it make if we keep them?”
He leaned his head to one side and studied her until she became a bit uncomfortable. “Do you want your guests to be impressed by the hotel and the service, or are you satisfied that a large portion of your guests are unimpressed by your decor.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. There was no argument for that. “You’re right.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to change the hotel because it’s not nice the way it is. It is nice.” He held his hands out palms up. “I want to change things so it will be memorable. I want our guests to go home and tell their friends and family about how great their stay was at Green’s Grand Hotel. I want us to live up to the name.”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with Michael and Sarah in their nightclothes?”
“I realize that you’re all grieving. It’s difficult to set that aside and make practical decisions when you’re in such a state. And I’m sorry if the things I’m suggesting seem harsh or cold. That’s not my intent. But consider this. Do you want your guests and their children to come into the dining room in their nightclothes?”
She backed up. “Of course not.”
“Then don’t set the precedent. If the kids want to wear their nightclothes, let them wear them. In your residence. I know they’re eating in the hotel kitchen, but they had to walk through the lobby and dining room to get there.”
He was right. Again.
“Set the example for your hotel. Your name is on the sign on the front of the building. If you want a clean, pleasant, relaxing environment, you have to set the example.”
“You’ve really thought about all of this, haven’t you?”
“It’s all I’ve thought about for the last five years. Ways to make a hotel the best it can be. Ways to have an excellent staff and superior service for our guests.”
“Can we do it?” She lifted her shoulders in query. “Can we make my parents’ dreams come true?”
“If you work with me, we can.”
She put out her hand to his. “I can do that. As long as we make the decisions in private and you consult me about everything.”
He wrapped his hand around hers, and she wondered if it had been a mistake to offer it. His grip was firm without being painful. The warmth of it was distracting.
He smiled a smile that lit his eyes and sent an unexplainable flicker of hope to her. “Let’s get to work.”
The sound of glass breaking came from the kitchen. She knew it would be something the kids had done, but the look on Nathan’s face warned her that it didn’t need to happen again.
Lord, help me. I’m going to need it.
“I’ll handle that.” C
harlotte pointed toward the kitchen.
“I’ll be at the registration desk.” He left the empty dining room. Breakfast wouldn’t be served for another half hour. That would give her time to get the kids through the lobby unseen by any of the guests.
She took a deep breath and let her head fall back as she blew it out. She’d spent the last two hours in the kitchen. It was early in the day, but she was already tired.
Nathan was right. She couldn’t keep up the pace she’d moved at for the last week. Had it been a week already? Only six days. How would she ever manage?
“Charlotte!” Sarah’s voice rang out, and Charlotte squared her shoulders. It didn’t matter what it cost her, she would not let her parents or siblings down. If that meant she was tired for the rest of her life, so be it. She’d be tired with a successful business and happy siblings who were well cared for.
There was no other choice. Failure wouldn’t just affect her. It would ruin the lives of those two little ones, too.
Chapter Four
Charlotte walked into Gran Colina Church hand in hand with Michael and Sarah. Getting them dressed after the stress of breakfast had made them late. Michael had insisted the broken glass was Sarah’s fault, and Sarah had cried until just before they’d left the hotel to walk to church.
Stares greeted them. Looks of pity from her friends saddened her. If only this were a normal Sunday. A day where she and her siblings would join their parents on their favorite bench and sing songs.
Today was different. Like every day for the last week, everything in their lives was done in a new way. And shadowed with grief. The singing that filled the room did nothing to alleviate the sharp pain in Charlotte’s heart.
When they reached their bench, Michael refused to step out of the aisle. Charlotte nudged him, but his feet were rooted to the floor.
She leaned close to his ear. “Step into the row, Michael.”
He stared at the empty bench. “No.” His eyes grew wide, and he yelled. “No.” He jerked free of her hand and bolted down the aisle and out the door.
The commotion drew more unwanted attention to her family. The reverend’s wife, Mildred Gillis, approached and bent down to speak to Sarah. “Would you like to sit with me today? I have a peppermint in my reticule.”
Sarah clutched her doll and nodded. Charlotte whispered her thanks to Mrs. Gillis and went in search of Michael.
He hadn’t gone far. She found him sitting on the bottom step of the barbershop. His Sunday-best pants would be soiled for it, and the shine of his shoes disappeared as he kicked up the dust at his feet.
Charlotte walked over and sat beside him.
He didn’t stop kicking, and she didn’t correct him. They sat in silence for several minutes.
Michael blurted out his pain. “I don’t want to go to church.”
“It’s tough, isn’t it?” Care for his pain was her utmost concern. She had to allow him to vent his emotions or he’d continue to bottle them up inside. She wished he’d express himself with something other than anger, but she understood. Sometimes, she even agreed.
“It ain’t right to sit where Pa and Momma sat without them there.” His feet stilled, and he turned to look at her. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”
Movement behind her caught her attention, but she ignored it. “We don’t have to sit where Pa and Momma sat, but we will go to church.”
“I don’t want to be there. It makes me miss them more.” His little face hardened with resolve.
“What do you think Pa and Momma would want you to do?”
“They’d want me to go to church like always. With them.”
Charlotte put an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sure that’s true. But since they can’t, I’d like us to honor their wishes and be in church every Sunday. It’s the place they loved to go the best. I know right now we all miss them something fierce, but I think we’ll come to be comforted by being there. It’ll take time, but I feel it in my heart.” She nudged him closer. “What do you say? Let’s go sit with Sarah and Mrs. Gillis.”
He shrugged off her arm but stood. “If we gotta.”
When she turned to walk beside him toward the church, she caught sight of Nathan. He was standing near the corner of the barbershop. She nodded but didn’t speak as they walked by him.
He lifted the brim of his Sunday hat and fell into step behind them.
After the service, Charlotte felt overwhelmed by the neighbors and friends who crowded around them to offer their continued condolences and help. Michael grew more tense with each passing moment, and Sarah was on the verge of tears. Charlotte wanted to get them home as soon as possible without being unkind to the people who were saddened by their loss.
Nathan inserted himself into the circle of churchgoers. “If you’ll excuse us, we have guests at the hotel and can’t be away any longer.”
Several people nodded and backed away. Nathan put a hand under Charlotte’s elbow and guided them out of the church. The stifling August heat hit her in the face, but she was more aware of Nathan’s unexpected touch than the weather. Michael broke free of her grasp and ran in the direction of the hotel.
Nathan squeezed her elbow. “Let him go. I’m sure he’s going straight to his room.”
Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right.” She turned to Sarah. “Do you want to run ahead home, too? Or would you like to walk with me?”
“I think I wanna go to Mrs. Gillis’s house. She told me she made a pie for after lunch.”
Charlotte stopped and stooped down to look into Sarah’s face. “We’ve got pie at the hotel.”
“But Mrs. Gillis says she wants to show me a doll she’s making.” Sarah held up her doll. “She said it’s like my doll, only she gave her blue stitches for her eyes. Mine has green. Momma said it was to match my eyes.”
Charlotte touched her gloved finger to the tip of Sarah’s nose. “And just like Momma’s.” She gave her a big hug. “Let me speak to Mrs. Gillis, and I’ll decide if today is the best day for you to go.”
She straightened, and Nathan offered to wait with Sarah while she spoke to the preacher’s wife.
“No.” Sarah clung to her leg. “I don’t want to stay with him.” Her lower lip slid out, and she sniffed.
Charlotte looked at Sarah and then at Nathan. “Honey, Nathan is a good man.”
“I don’t wanna! Can’t I go with you to talk to Mrs. Gillis?” She tugged on Charlotte’s hand. “Please?” The plea was quickly escalating into a wail.
Charlotte tried not to be curt with Sarah. “I’m not sure it’s the best day to visit with Mrs. Gillis. You seem too upset. Let’s go home. You can visit another time.”
Sarah sent Nathan her most ornery frown. Charlotte had seen it many times in the child’s five years, though she had no idea why her sister should be upset with Nathan.
He took a step back and pulled his pocket watch from his vest. A touch on the latch opened it. “I need to hurry back to the hotel. It’s almost noon.”
“It’s Sunday. A stroll home from church is one of the most pleasant parts of the day.” Charlotte wondered at his abruptness. Perhaps he wasn’t fond of children. Or was he so obsessed with his work that the needs of a little girl were viewed as an interruption instead of a need?
“Mrs. Atkins will be ready to serve lunch to the mayors soon. I want to ensure that everything is at its best. The hotel can’t operate without someone at the helm.”
“I’ve left a note on the desk that we’ll return after services. It’s the way Pa always did it.”
“I agreed to attend church today. It’s important that the people in town know you have help. In the future, we will either take turns on Sundays, or I will stay behind.” His forthright tone didn’t suit her. It rang with a twinge of arrogance.
“If you have an idea for a change you’d like to make at the hot
el, you may bring it to my attention in private, so that we may discuss it before I decide if it is a change I am willing to make.” She took a deep breath. “Between Michael and Sarah—and you—I can see that I’ll be making a lot of decisions. But, rest assured, I will be the one to make them.”
Nathan opened his mouth and closed it again. He slid his watch back into his vest pocket. “If it is not a problem for you, Miss Green, I’d like to go back to the hotel now.” The firm set of his jaw might intimidate someone else, but Charlotte refused to turn over her responsibilities to him. He would have to adjust to that fact.
“Okay. We’ll be along shortly.”
Nathan picked up his pace and left her to walk with Sarah, who wanted to talk about her doll. Without warning the child burst into tears.
Charlotte picked her up and wiped a tear away with her glove. “What is it, sweetie?”
“I miss Momma. Mrs. Gillis said I shouldn’t cry too much. I should remember that Momma is in heaven with Jesus.” She gulped back a sob. “But I’m so sad, Charlotte. I really missed them in church.”
Charlotte drew Sarah’s head against her shoulder. “It was hard on all of us. You cry if you want to, Sarah. I’m sure Mrs. Gillis meant to make you feel better, but it’s okay to be sad when you miss Momma and Pa.”
Sarah cried all the harder, and Charlotte smoothed her hair. Her own tears were silent but heavy with the same grief her little sister couldn’t contain.
When they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Nathan was busy at the desk. Sarah’s sobs had turned to whimpers, and Charlotte had dried her eyes. He pointed for her to go to the residence. The look on his face told her that Michael was inside. The sharpness of Nathan’s nod let her know he wasn’t happy with her.
* * *
Nathan heard Sarah cry out, and he closed the door to the residence. The children were having a difficult day. The weight of it on Charlotte prevented her from helping him at the desk. It could also keep her from seeing the magnitude of the work they had to do.
