by Joanne Fluke
“And don’t forget,” he told them, “there’s a staff meeting this afternoon, when your shift ends.”
Elizabeth felt like groaning, but restrained the impulse. Staff meetings were held off the clock, on employees’ own time, and she had been planning to spend the evening digging her cold-weather clothes out of storage, in anticipation of her vacation.
“We’ll be there,” Toni said. “Never fear.”
“Good,” Mr. Dimitri said, spying an elderly guest exiting the elevator, looking a bit lost. “Mrs. Fahnstock,” he cooed, hurrying toward her. “What can I do for you?”
Mrs. Fahnstock’s wrinkled face immediately brightened. “Oh, Mr. Dimitri, how lovely to see you.”
“Is something the matter, dear lady?”
“Well, this is so silly of me, but I’m supposed to meet my friend, Doris, and I can’t seem to find the Victorian Tea Room. Has it been moved?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“Never fear, these corridors can be confusing.” Mr. Dimitri snapped his fingers. “Elizabeth, please escort Mrs. Fahnstock to the Victorian Tea Room.”
Elizabeth hurried across the thickly carpeted space and Mrs. Fahnstock’s look of befuddlement was replaced with a serene smile. “You’re such a darling to help me,” she said.
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Fahnstock,” Elizabeth said, taking her arm. “Now if you’ll just come this way I’m sure we’ll find your friend waiting for you.”
Mr. Dimitri stood watching, a thoughtful expression on his face, as Elizabeth escorted the elderly guest through the spacious lobby, which was dotted with numerous luxuriously appointed seating areas. He noticed with approval the way she matched her pace to the old woman’s, and kept up a lively conversation as they proceeded along the paneled and carpeted corridor leading to the tea room.
* * *
The hotel’s largest function room, the Bougainvillea Room, was packed with employees when Elizabeth and Toni arrived, and everybody was talking, expressing different expectations about the staff meeting.
“Bonuses . . . holiday bonuses. I’m sure they’re going to announce bonuses,” Toni said, taking a seat next to Kieran, one of the doormen.
“Don’t be daft,” Kieran said gloomily. “Layoffs. It’s this recession, don’t you see? They’re going to cut staff. The hotel’s got something like five hundred rooms and more than fifteen hundred employees. Do the math.”
“Nonsense,” said Ada, one of the housekeepers. She was wearing the lavender shirtwaist dress with a white lace collar that all the housekeepers wore. “The rich are doing just fine, there’s no recession for them, and that’s who comes to this hotel. The one percent.”
“If you ask me, occupancy’s been down,” Kieran insisted. “I know my tips are.”
“Maybe it’s something about the health insurance plan,” Elizabeth said, following her mother Lucy’s oft-expressed advice not to panic until you had to.
“There aren’t any charts or books,” Toni observed, indicating the single podium in the front of the room. “Wouldn’t there be stuff like that if it’s only a new health plan?”
Elizabeth suspected her friend was right and her heart gave a little jump when Mr. Dimitri appeared and took his place, tapping the microphone. “Attention, attention,” he said. “I promise to be brief.”
The room quieted as everyone waited to hear what he had to say; a few fingers were crossed, and a few people were holding their breath.
“I see some anxious faces,” he began with a laugh. “Well, you can relax. I have good news.”
The employees who were holding their breath exhaled, some even chuckled.
“I have the pleasure of announcing that our hotel has been chosen for a great honor—the entire hotel has been booked by Wall Street financier Jonah Gruber for a Christmas extravaganza for six hundred of his closest friends.”
Mr. Dimitri nodded, waiting for the employees to absorb this information. While not exactly ecstatic, everyone seemed interested, wondering what the extravaganza meant for them personally. Elizabeth found herself feeling a bit let down since the event would most likely take place during her vacation and she’d miss it. She almost wished she could stay to see all the famous people who would be attending.
“The highlight of this four-day celebration will be a fantastic black-tie dinner dance, the Blingle Bells Ball, at which Mr. Gruber’s wife, the lovely cinema star Noelle Jones, will wear the amazing ruby and emerald Imperial Parure. You may remember that Mr. Gruber bought the parure, which was originally created for Empress Marie Louise, at auction for forty-seven million dollars.”
Finally, Mr. Dimitri got the reaction he wanted: there was a collective gasp from the assembled employees.
“That’s correct, forty-seven million dollars. Needless to say, security will be a top concern. And that is why I would like to turn this meeting over to our security director, Dan Wrayburn.”
Wrayburn, who had been standing to the side of the room, came forward. He was a stocky, muscular man in early middle age with a gray brush cut, and he had the easy, bouncing movement of a former boxer but rumor had it he was actually ex-FBI.
“My top concern—and yours, too—is the safety of our guests,” Wrayburn began, his eyes moving restlessly over the group. “This event will bring extra challenges, not only because of the presence of the valuable jewels, but also because the guest list will include European royalty, celebrities, politicians, even the First Lady. All of these high-profile people are potential targets for crimes ranging from simple theft to kidnapping. I am asking you all to remain vigilant—you are the first line against criminal activity. You must keep your eyes and ears open and report anything, anything at all, that appears suspicious to you. If you see something, say something.”
Everyone nodded in agreement and Wrayburn cracked a grin. “I’ll be issuing more specific instructions in the future, so for now I’ll turn things back to Mr. Dimitri. But first let me say I have every confidence that together we can make this a safe and secure celebration for our guests.”
Elizabeth nudged Toni. “Sounds like you’ll have some prime husband-hunting opportunities.”
To her surprise, Toni didn’t look pleased. “Don’t count on it. We’re all going to be under a microscope. And believe me, if anything goes wrong—and something will, count on it—we’re the ones who will be blamed.”
Mr. Dimitri was again tapping the microphone, demanding silence. “Thank you, Mr. Wrayburn. I know I can count on you all to cooperate with Mr. Wrayburn’s plans for security. And now, just one more thing before you go. . . .”
There was suddenly an air of tension in the room; they all knew Mr. Dimitri’s habit of delivering bad news just before he ended a meeting.
“All vacations scheduled for the rest of the month are canceled—we need all hands on deck to prepare for this special event.”
It hit Elizabeth like a hammer. No vacation! No white Christmas! No little Patrick, squealing with delight at the presents under the tree.
“Too bad,” Toni said, sympathizing.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said, remembering another favorite expression of her mother’s: be careful what you wish for. For a moment, only a moment, she’d wished she wouldn’t be missing seeing all the famous people—and now she’d gotten that wish.
“Cheer up,” Toni urged. “We’ll have fun. You’ll see.”
“I guess it could be worse,” Elizabeth grumbled, joining the crowd of employees flowing through the doors. Absorbed in disappointment, she didn’t notice Mr. Dimitri until he tapped her on the arm.
“A word, please, Elizabeth.”
Her eyes met Toni’s in a shared look of dismay, then she followed Mr. Dimitri to his office, certain she was about to be fired, or at the very least, placed on probation. Things weren’t going her way today, that was for sure. She never should have made that remark about Mr. Moore.
“Sit down, Elizabeth,” he urged, shutting the door after they stepped into the room and seating himself
behind his desk.
Elizabeth obeyed, bracing herself for the bad news. No matter what happened, she vowed, she wasn’t going to cry. And if she got fired, well, she’d be able to go home for Christmas.
“You’ve been noticed,” he said, smiling.
What a sadist, Elizabeth thought. He was actually enjoying this.
“Your excellent work has been noticed.”
Elizabeth sat up straighter. What the heck was going on?
“You may have noticed that our assistant concierge, Annemarie, has been on sick leave. She called today and told me she has Epstein-Barr and won’t be able to return for at least four weeks.”
“My sister had that once,” Elizabeth said. “That’s too bad.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Dimitri said. “And Annemarie’s absence at this busy time of year poses a problem for us. I’ve discussed the matter with the head concierge, Mr. Kronenberg, and he agrees with me that you should take her place.”
This wasn’t what she’d been expecting and Elizabeth struggled to process this new information. For a moment she pictured herself sitting at Annemarie’s curvy little French desk in an alcove off the lobby, impressing guests with her knowledge and expertise. Or not, she thought, assailed by doubt. Did she really have the skills and experience the job required? She was still learning to find her way around Palm Beach. But, she realized, brightening, this might be a genuine opportunity. And Mr. Dimitri wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t have confidence in her abilities.
Finally, she spoke. “I’m very flattered,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” he said. “You can start tomorrow.”
* * *
Elizabeth was seated at Annemarie’s desk the next morning, waiting impatiently for Toni’s arrival. She couldn’t wait to see her friend’s reaction, and Toni didn’t disappoint when she took her place at the reception desk. Her eyes rounded in astonishment when she spotted Elizabeth and she hurried right over.
“What’s this?” she asked. “Did you get a promotion?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s temporary. Annemarie’s got Epstein-Barr.”
“Lucky you.”
“We’ll see. I feel like a fake. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Toni grinned. “Just pretend,” she said in parting, dashing back to her post when she spotted the head concierge, Walter Kronenberg, stepping out of the elevator and heading in Elizabeth’s direction. He was a tall man with gray hair brushed straight back; from his stiff, formal manner Elizabeth suspected he might be a retired military officer.
She stood up to greet him, and said, “I’m very honored to take Annemarie’s place. I know it’s a challenging job but I’m a fast learner and a hard worker.”
“Very well, Elizabeth,” he said. “Now we must get to work. You have a lot to learn, and we’re under pressure with the Gruber event in just two weeks.” He sat down in her chair, indicating she should take one of the chairs provided for guests and sit beside him. “First of all, you need the computer password.”
Elizabeth knew that concierges had a higher level of access to the Cavendish data bank and was interested to see what information was now available to her.
“I must warn you, all of this information is highly confidential. We don’t want to be reading in the National Enquirer that one of our guests has a passion for cashew nuts.”
Elizabeth was tempted to giggle but stifled the impulse; she didn’t think Mr. Kronenberg was joking. “Of course not,” she said with a serious nod, watching as he wrote the password on a slip of paper.
“Got it?” he asked, and when she nodded, he tore the paper into tiny bits, which he pocketed.
Elizabeth had a strange sense of dislocation. Was she being trained as an assistant concierge in a posh hotel or was she being briefed for a mission to defend national security?
“Now, Elizabeth,” Mr. Kronenberg continued, “on occasion one of our guests will require access to the hotel safe when neither I nor Mr. Dimitri will be available. In that case, you will need the combination.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. This was quite a bit more responsibility than she expected and she remembered Toni’s warning that if something went wrong, the staff would be blamed. “Right,” she said.
“The combination is in this box,” he continued, producing a small gray metal cash box from a side drawer. “The key to this box is kept with the paper clips.”
Elizabeth opened the shallow central drawer and found the compartment filled with paper clips and dug through them, producing a small, silver key.
“Remember,” he said, “it is most unlikely that both Mr. Dimitri and I would be unavailable but it does occasionally happen and we don’t want our guests to be inconvenienced.”
“I understand,” Elizabeth said.
“You must tell no one about the combination,” he warned in a most serious tone.
“Of course not.”
“But I think you will enjoy this job,” he said, standing up. “You’ll find our guests are most delightful and you’ll see that it’s a pleasure to help them. Sometimes their requests are challenging, but there’s great satisfaction in coming up with the perfect solution.” A quick smile flickered across his lips, then he wished her good luck and left Elizabeth on her own.
She had a busy morning, arranging horseback riding for one guest, making dinner reservations for several others, and changing an airplane flight for Mrs. Fahnstock, who had decided to stay a few more days. Around eleven she caught a breather, but when she glanced across the lobby at the reception desk and gave Toni a little wave, she only got an odd little smirk in response. She was about to go over and ask what the problem was when another guest approached her desk.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” said a tall, good-looking guy in his early thirties, removing his Ray-Bans to reveal bright blue eyes. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt and khaki shorts with Teva sandals on his bare feet.
“Not a problem,” Elizabeth said, taking in his tousled, sun-bleached hair, broad shoulders, and lean torso and finding him terribly attractive. “I’m here to help.”
Chapter Two
“Who was the good-looking guy?” Toni asked, seating herself beside Elizabeth at the scuffed Formica-topped table in the employees’ break room. The two always had lunch together, usually eating bag lunches they brought from home.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, prying the lid off a plastic container of salad. “He wanted to know where he could get a flat bike tire fixed and I sent him to the sports center.”
Toni’s eyebrows shot up. “You should have got his name so you could Google him.”
Elizabeth speared a cherry tomato. “He just had a simple question and I was on the phone with Delta, trying to get them to drop the change fee for Mrs. Fahnstock.”
“I would have dropped Delta and called back later. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, you know.”
“How do you know that?” Elizabeth asked. “What have you got, X-ray vision or something?”
“I make a point of checking,” Toni replied, licking the last of the yogurt off her spoon. “It saves a lot of trouble later.”
“Rings can be removed, you know,” Elizabeth said. “They’re not permanently attached.”
“I know,” Toni admitted in a rueful tone, taking a sip of Diet Coke. “Maybe men should be required to get tattoos on their ring fingers when they get married. So tell me, did Dimitri give you access to the supersecret database?”
As all Cavendish employees knew, there were various levels of access to the company’s famous database. Desk clerks were among those with the lowest access, mainly to credit card account numbers and personal preferences; concierges inevitably accumulated more data as they maintained records of guest requests; and executives like Mr. Dimitri had the highest level of information, which according to rumor was more complete than data collected by the FBI and CIA. All employees, whatever their level, were required to sign strict confidentiality ag
reements and anyone caught sharing information was subject to immediate dismissal.
Elizabeth remembered Mr. Kronenberg’s warning and shrugged. “So far I haven’t seen anything that would interest the National Enquirer, if that’s what you want to know.”
Toni ran her finger around the top of the Coke can. “I was thinking that maybe you could tip me off about rich male guests, say whether they’re married or not.”
“And their credit limits?” Elizabeth teased.
“Well, yeah, that would be good, too.”
Elizabeth wasn’t exactly surprised at Toni’s request, but she was a little hurt that Toni would ask her to put her job in jeopardy. “No way. I’m not taking any chances. This temporary job could be a big break for me.” She paused. “I’ve already been scolded by Mr. Dimitri for failing to address a guest by name. Apparently the concierge gets an IM alert when a guest checks in, but if I miss it for some reason I’m supposed to politely ask them to introduce themselves. It’s a bit awkward—I’m not comfortable doing it.”
Toni shrugged. “The guests love hearing their names. It makes them feel like they’re the lords of the manor and we’re their servants or something.”
Elizabeth stood up. “Yeah, well, back in Tinker’s Cove, where I come from, people treat everybody the same. It doesn’t matter if they’re millionaires or garbage collectors.”
“Maybe that’s fine for you,” Toni said, “but personally I’d much rather marry a millionaire than a garbage man.”
“I guess I would, too,” Elizabeth admitted, laughing.
* * *
Elizabeth was ordering a same-day flower delivery for a guest who had forgotten his mother’s birthday when the good-looking biker reappeared.
“Hi,” he said, grinning and revealing a prominent set of very large, very white teeth.
Elizabeth held up a finger, indicating she was on the phone, and he seated himself in one of the chairs provided for guests. She took the opportunity of looking him over while she completed negotiating the flower order, noting his tanned face and arms, his long, muscular legs, the chunky gold watch on his wrist. Toni was right—there was no wedding ring. Finally ending the call, she smiled and asked, “What can I do for you?”
