by Anne Ashby
With measured determination he straightened his suit jacket and checked his tie. He’d conquered his demons again—for now. Jase drove back his broad shoulders and concentrated on lightening his gait as he strolled through the automatic doors.
The cheerful greeting he intended never sounded. Remembered bitterness had frozen his vocal cords. He tried again.
“Morning, people.” The words sounded harsh and scratchy to his ears. He hoped his twisted lips resembled some sort of smile and covered any perception of displeasure as he approached the main reception desk. The young porter’s scramble to attention suggested his expression was probably more grotesque.
“Good morning, boss,” the receptionist answered with the cheery smile required by her position. The night manager’s head shot from behind the office door and he pointedly checked the clock behind him.
“Hey boss-man, it’s not even five. You trying to catch us napping or something?”
His friend’s quip helped to further ease the tension inside him. “As I remember it, you were always too cunning to get caught,” Jase’s plastic smile turned genuine.
White teeth flashed as Hemi Nikau rounded the reception desk. He chuckled as he accompanied Jase past the bank of elevators and toward the administration offices at the back of the hotel. “What you need is someone warm in your bed. Coming to work at these ungodly hours would soon lose its appeal.”
Anxiety scoured Jase’s smile. The death of his career had signalled the death of his social life, too. Hell, in a town this small he already knew everyone and also knew there was zero chance of developing any meaningful relationship.
The girls he’d known at school were either long married or long gone. Fraternising with guests didn’t appeal. It wasn’t professional, nor could that type of socialising be the answer to his forlorn existence.
The vice around his chest tightened. Hemi expanding on his theory would only stab more pins into Jase’s still leaky self-control. With his mouth drier than the Sahara, he quickly changed the subject. “Anything I should know about?”
“It’s been dead quiet.”
“But?” Jase sensed his friend’s concern.
Hemi glanced over his shoulder toward the reception area before lowering his voice. “Something’s brewing, Jase. Everyone’s edgy. You have to muzzle that—”
Jase’s hand wrapped around the other man’s forearm, halting his words. He couldn’t allow a staff member, even a closely trusted staff member, to openly malign the woman running the resort. “I’m on it, Hemi. Just keep your ears open, keep me in touch with everything.” He eyeballed the other man. “Everything, Hem. I need to know what the hell is causing all this unrest. If it’s—”
“We all know who’s causing it, boss.” Certainty echoed in Hemi’s reply. “You just have to figure out what to do about her.”
The other man grimaced and wandered back to reception. Jase cursed, and then cursed again. Hemi was right. Subtle investigation over the last few weeks had pointed Jase directly toward the general manager of the resort—and his boss—Madeline Murphy.
Her mediocre management skills had become apparent to Jase almost as soon as he’d taken the job as operations manager. He’d covered for her, but defending her actions was proving more difficult every day. Her behaviour had become so erratic he even wondered about her mental health.
His stomach clenched to the hardness of a well-worn river stone as his worries magnified. Not only was his personal life a monotonous empty hole, his bloody job was unravelling too.
Before his eyes Jase could see this place disintegrating. Only a fool would suggest the resort was profitable. If staff unrest escalated into industrial action the hotel could close. He’d bet the executives in Wellington cared as much about the livelihood of the townspeople as a big fat Sylvester cared about the emotional duress of Tweety Bird.
Striding along the corridor to his office Jase thumped his thigh, hoping the repetitive action might jostle some useful brain cells. He needed to keep the staff calm and temper his boss’s outbursts. He wanted to figure a way to stave off any chance of industrial action, without calling Head Office.
****
Apart from a text advising she’d arrived safely at Riversleigh, Debra didn’t hear from her mother again that week. With her brother still in Singapore she was inundated with Paul’s workload as well as her own. She put her mother’s worries from her mind.
Her cell phone started chirping late one night just as Debra had fallen into bed. “Debra. This isn’t working.” Frustration was evident in Karin’s voice. “Madeline Murphy is fawning all over me. It’s disgusting how simpering she is. Ugh! My bones are telling me she’s the problem here, but I can’t find out anything definite except the staff all loath her...”
So what? This was probably a point in Madeline Murphy’s favour.
“The operations manager is being so helpful, though. He’s such a lovely boy...”
Oh, spare me. Debra pulled a face in the mirror opposite her bed. She’d seen Jason McEwan enough times on the rugby field to guess exactly what Karin thought was so “lovely” about him.
It was more likely the hotel’s problems had nothing to do with their general manager at all. The unprofitability was probably caused by his inexperience at hotel management. Debra shook her head as her mother’s voice rambled on in her ear. Hiring a broken down rugby player to help run a hotel! If she’d had anything to do with the hiring...
Suddenly the significance of her mother’s words became clear. Her head shot up, clunking itself hard against the headboard. “What did you say?” She tentatively touched the impact point, relieved her fingers found no sign of blood.
“Darling, aren’t you listening?”
I’m trying not to. Debra grimaced, holding the words captive. As calmly as her smouldering temper allowed, she queried, “I think I must have misheard you, Mother.”
“They’re short a waitress so I got Linda, Joyce’s daughter, to tell them she has a friend who would be perfect for the job.”
Debra’s fingers clamped the phone to her ear. Her neck, cheeks, and forehead burned, until she feared the torridness would burst through the top of her head. That whack had obviously given her concussion.
Her mother’s voice continued to ramble, its message forcing Debra to accept no internal damage had occurred. Her body craved oxygen but couldn’t filter past the obstruction in her throat. Desperate efforts to deepen her breathing slowly allowed her room to come back into focus.
“I am not coming to Riversleigh, Mother.”
“Don’t be silly, darling.”
Errg!
“Going undercover is the simplest and most certain way to discover what’s happening down here.”
Undercover? Omigod! Karin was playing with her, as she would a child, making up some intriguing adventure. Debra almost laughed. Her mother actually expected her to up stakes...Debra’s lips twisted at the absurdity of the suggestion. “We pay staff to ascertain what’s going on, Mother, because—”
Karin’s voice overrode her. Squirming on her bed Debra struggled to reject this feeling of powerlessness. What was the matter with her? She’d laboured so hard to evict her persona of the earlier inept Doleful Deb from her life. Her back stiffened. She’d be damned if that nondescript shadow was ever seeing daylight again.
Click the off button. Hurry up. You’re a powerful woman—a confident person used to giving orders. You make grown men quake in their boots. Why can I never get the better of this one person?
She made one more desperate attempt. “Mother, I have no intention—”
Her mother’s voice of doom continued in her ear.
****
Two days later she stalked through the air tunnel into Invercargill Airport terminal. Her mother’s friend, Joyce, was there to meet her. Debra dredged up a polite smile as she was drawn into the woman’s arms.
“You look wonderful, Debra.”
Debra grimaced and extracted herself from the ph
ysical contact as deftly as possible. She’d borrowed a suitcase full of clothes from her cousin, Rebecca. Her own were hardly the quality a waitress could afford. Arriving with all brand-new items could also look suspicious.
While her cousin’s things fitted perfectly, they were more suited to Rebecca’s student lifestyle and hardly the type of clothes Debra normally wore. She knew she looked anything but wonderful.
“We’re so pleased you’ve come. It’s lovely to see you after all this time.”
Debra felt a moment’s remorse. When they’d been children, she and Paul had often accompanied their parents to Riversleigh, but since her grandparents had died...
“Linda’s so excited. She can’t wait to see you again.”
Debra glanced away, her back stiffening. Linda had once been a friend, before their lifestyles had diverged so completely. Remorse could turn to guilt if she wasn’t careful. Then her chin jutted. She had no reason to feel guilty. She was a busy woman. People depended on her for their livelihood. Wondering about her childhood friend hadn’t entered her head for more years than she liked to think.
“I promised I’d take you straight to her place so you can catch up. She wanted you to stay with her, but Karin thought living in the staff quarters might give you more access.” Joyce nudged her. “More insight into what might be happening.”
I’ll just bet she did. Debra bit her tongue to keep the disparaging remarks about her mother to herself. Instead she looked around. A frown gathered. The terminal seemed different. When she asked about it, Joyce answered with a satisfied smile.
“Southland has changed, Debra. We’re not the dead end of New Zealand anymore. This revamped terminal is just the first of many changes you’ll see. With the recurrence of the dairy industry and the free polytechnic, people are swarming into the province.”
Debra followed Joyce to the baggage claim area and grabbed her single suitcase. Heading outside she stopped at another new addition. The large wooden sculpture depicting the province’s champion netball team hadn’t been here on her last visit. The weathered condition of the statue slammed home just how many years it had been since Debra had visited this airport.
Before the uneasy niggle turned into guilt Debra shrugged it aside. Why would she have visited? Once her grandparents had passed away, she had no ties with Southland.
The wind, originating in Antarctica for sure, whistled across the flat from Oreti Beach and hit them as they turned the terminal’s corner into the car park. In a battle against the blazing sun above them, the wind emerged a clear winner.
Joyce must have noticed her shiver. “It won’t be as cold at Riversleigh.”
Yeah, right.
“This is the coldest place in the whole of Southland,” Joyce clicked her tongue as she started the car. “And yet it’s where we welcome our guests. Ironic, isn’t it?”
You said it, lady. Debra yanked her coat tighter around her body. She would never forgive her mother for this—never.
Chapter Two
Jase strode through the swinging doors of the dining room. A dark-suited man detached himself from overseeing the breakfast buffet and approached.
“We’re up to strength again, Jase.” George Rivers was their maitre d’. “Come and I’ll introduce you to our new waitress.”
Jase fell into step beside him. “I’m not overly happy about you employing new staff, George. You know what was laid down at the management meeting. Are you certain you couldn’t have jiggled shifts a little, offered a bit more overtime?”
“My staff was already pared down to the core. We had to replace Jerry.”
“Okay.” Accepting George’s word, Jase scrubbed a hand around the back of his neck. “But still, a friend of your wife’s, George? It smacks of favouritism when we have all the young locals graduating from polytech looking for jobs.” He’d voiced this concern before, when he’d discovered George had given an interview, and a job, over the phone to someone from Wellington.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy with what she achieves while she’s here.”
Jase frowned at his companion’s odd choice of words. “That’s the other problem.” Jase’s unease grew. “How long do you think she’ll stay? Used to the bustle of the city, nightlife, the social whirl—”
“She won’t let us down.”
“You’re putting great faith in someone you’ve never met. I hope Linda knows what she’s talked you into.” He shrugged. Staff on the ground was the least of his worries.
Jase had already identified the new member of staff before George signalled her to join them. Although dressed exactly as the other waitresses bustling around the tables, this one stood out. Tall and poised, she crossed the floor like a high-class model on a catwalk. Her almost regal carriage was totally at variance with the uniform she wore.
His concern increased as she acknowledged George’s introduction with a cool, almost haughty nod of her elegant head. Although her greeting was formal, her dark eyes held a mysterious sparkle.
“How do you do, Mr. McEwan?” The reply tripled his anxiety. Her accent smacked of privilege and private schooling.
“What brings you to Southland, Debbie? Or more to the point, to Riversleigh?”
“I prefer Debra or Deb please.” Jase noted she managed to look down her nose even though he stood at least twenty centimetres taller. She stared him dead in the eye. “I needed a change and Mr. Rivers was kind enough to offer me the position.”
“Yes, well I expect Mr. Rivers will ensure you settle into your new role quickly.” His nod of dismissal was ignored. It took a light touch on her arm and a slight movement of George’s head for her to turn her back and step away.
“George! For God’s sake, what were you thinking of? Look.” He pointed to where she stood undecided about what to do next. “She’s not a waitress. I’d bet my savings she’s never done a day’s labour in her life.”
Jase didn’t immediately notice the affronted frown growing on his companion’s face. He was too busy staring at the beautiful woman who most definitely wasn’t experienced at the menial task she was currently bungling.
However George’s frosty tone did alert him to his overstepping the mark. “Are the food and beverage staff not my responsibility?”
Unable to drag his eyes away from the dark-clad figure Jase absently placated the man. “Of course they are, George. I’m just concerned. That woman could cause trouble.”
“Not to me, she couldn’t.” The little smile playing around George’s mouth did nothing to nullify Jase’s unease. “Give her a break. She’s been working here for all of…” George looked at his watch, “…one hour. I don’t expect perfection from my staff that quickly.”
Jase grunted, spun on his heel and left the room. Damn. He didn’t need silly little power plays occurring in the dining room. He had enough worries coping with those at management level.
Walking past the dining room some hours later the breath caught in Jase’s throat. The new waitress was chatting with Karin Laurie. There could be no other word for it. She was standing beside the table of the hotel’s part-owner, chatting. With no sign of service, either delivered or collected, the conversation appeared rather more serious than would be expected between a waitress and a dining guest.
Having an owner staying at the hotel for an unspecified time was adding to his stress levels. If she discovered the underlying problems existing here, all their jobs could be in jeopardy.
“Good morning, Mrs. Laurie. I trust you had a restful night.” It was easy to smile. She was a beautiful woman. But he hadn’t yet decided if her beauty was superficial or not.
“I’ll take care of Mrs. Laurie, Debbie. You can get back to work.” Displeased at the waitress’s indignant glare his lips tightened. He jerked his head in dismissal. Turning to face the seated woman he cleared his throat. “If I can assist you in any way, Mrs. Laurie?” he spoke quickly. Karin Laurie must not find anything to complain about.
“Actually there is something you
can do.” Blood red fingernails tapped on the tablecloth. “I think I’ll take a drive today. Get me a car and a driver, would you?”
“Of course, ma’am. I’ll have the front desk get in touch with the local taxi company immediately and—”
“Oh, I don’t mean a taxi.” Her tinkling laugh showed her confidence. “I’ll have one of the resort vehicles. One of your employees can drive, and then there won’t be any insurance worries.”
Jase’s back straightened. He licked his lips before taking a deep breath and looking Karin Laurie straight in the face. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The hotel doesn’t provide transport except for airport shuttles and programmed tours. I could check the tour schedule and see what is planned for the day, but otherwise—”
“I don’t want to go on some tour.” Her eyes had narrowed and her lips were thin with annoyance. “I grew up in Riversleigh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t need to go on a tour.”
“The taxi company is very reliable, I can arrange a—”
“Forget it,” she snapped, throwing her scrunched-up napkin onto the table. “Perhaps I’ll stay in my room for the day.”
Jase nipped behind her in time to ease out her chair as she stood up and stormed off, leaving a very distinct “harrumph” behind her.
“Very good, ma’am,” he murmured after her, although he doubted she heard him.
Damn! With a whitened grip on its back he readjusted the chair’s position until it was perfectly placed. Only then did he turn toward the servery. With George still nowhere in sight Jase approached, his steps firm and measured.
He intercepted the new waitress as she carried a fresh tray of eggs toward the Bain Marie. Her haughty look screamed for him to get out of her way as she scooted around him agitatedly balancing the hot tray in her hands. Her ineptness at dodging the steam as she removed the original tray and replaced it reinforced the unlikelihood of her ever having done such work before.
Jase’s lips tightened still further at her ham-fisted display. Still, as George had so rightly pointed out, waiting staff was the responsibility of the maitre d’, not him. But in George’s absence Jase needed to make one thing very clear to this new employee.
