It wasn’t often that Ella was speechless but this was one of those moments. Ricky Mellington-Smyth was a nice enough guy, if a bit of a chinless wonder, but since when was he a chef? The last time Ella had bumped into him in London he’d been an estate agent and before that he’d been something in the City – what that something was nobody quite knew, but she would bet her life that it wasn’t a chef. She doubted he even knew how to flip burgers. No way would he be able to run a professional kitchen and produce the fine dining the hotel was becoming known for.
Ella felt sick.
“Is he qualified?”
Jonny waved a hand. “He’s a nice boy. His grandfather and I go back a long way, so I’d like to give him a chance. Teddy says he’s a fantastic chef. Apparently this pop-up thingamajig made a fortune.”
In a field in Somerset during a festival? Ella wanted to scream. For heaven’s sake!
“Grandpa, we need the best. Since we were featured in the press and on F&D I’ve had over fifteen wedding enquiries and the phone hasn’t stopped ringing for restaurant reservations. We can’t risk that by appointing a head chef who isn’t up to the job. That would be insane!”
“Give him a trial run,” Jonny suggested. His face wore the determined expression Ella often saw in the mirror and her heart sank even further. At this rate, it would be in her shoes before very long. “A month to see how he goes. You might be surprised.”
“I’d be amazed,” Ella said. “Look Grandpa, you can’t take risks like this with the hotel’s reputation. We’ve been building it up steadily for a while now and we’re getting a name for wonderful service and food. That was why I hired Charlie Barton.”
Jonny regarded her over his glasses. He might be old but his gaze was still razor-sharp and when he spoke his words sliced like blades.
“Yes. Charlie Barton who charged a fortune for his services and took you for a fool. The very same Charlie Barton who drove your cars and walked out just days before your biggest wedding? Forgive me, Ella, if I choose to question your ability to hire chefs.”
Ella curled her hands into fists, the nails digging into her palms, and forced herself to keep calm. “Charlie was a gamble but he attracted a great deal of attention for us.”
“A gamble that could have left us looking incredibly stupid,” Jonny countered bluntly, and Ella winced. “You were damned lucky Symon Tremaine was there to bail you out.”
Ella bristled. “Symon didn’t bail me out. I employed him to do a job and in doing so I hired a qualified chef with a Michelin star. Not a public school boy who’s decided he wants to play at being Jamie Oliver or because Teddy needs a chum to drive him about when he’s too pissed to see straight!”
The gloves were off now but Ella was beyond caring; there was no way this was happening just because her grandfather once played golf with Ricky’s granddad or something equally ridiculous.
Jonny’s bushy white eyebrows shot upwards. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating but I don’t like it.”
“Don’t you really, Grandpa? Are you sure about that?” Ella held his gaze and Jonny looked away first.
“So he’s a little bit wild and needs to settle down. He’s not the first young man to behave like that and he’s harmless.”
“He’s not harmless if he drives too fast or drinks and gets behind the wheel,” Ella replied. She was worried for her feckless, silly brother. She buried herself in work not to feel and Ted buried himself in booze. What a pair they made.
“I agree,” Jonny said. “Teddy needs a focus and he needs to know we trust him. This is a family business after all. He’s equally entitled to make decisions and be involved.”
“Not this time!” Ella cried, unable to believe what she was hearing. “He hasn’t got a clue! We’ll be bankrupt in months. Come on, Grandpa! We’re doing so well here. Don’t ruin it now.”
But Jonny shook his head. “I think allowing him to make some management decisions is exactly what he needs. You chose the last chef and now it’s his turn. That’s only fair.”
“For God’s sake! This isn’t a game of snakes and ladders!” Ella exploded, standing up so abruptly that her wheelie office chair shot across the room. “I can’t let you do this!”
“It isn’t your place to tell me what I can do or to give me permission. Let me remind you, young lady, just who owns the Polwenna Bay Hotel!”
“And let me remind you who was appointed as the manager!”
“You may be the manager but I’m the owner and I’m telling you that this decision is going to be Teddy’s. You need to step aside and let your brother take some of the load.”
Ella was in anguish. If she stepped aside and allowed Teddy to pop his hopeless cronies into roles they were no way qualified for, the business would be ruined. It was so obvious to her and she was beyond frustrated that her grandfather was so blind to the reality. It seemed that her brother could do no wrong in Jonny’s eyes just because he was a boy.
Her heart was hammering in her chest. “I can’t do that, Grandpa.”
Jonny leaned forward and his voice was lower but as firm as ever. “I’m not asking your permission, Ella. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. This is Teddy’s call, not yours.”
Ella knew it was over before the sentence was even completed. All her work, all her achievements, all her pride in building a team and a superb reputation counted as nothing to her grandfather, just because she happened to be female. It didn’t matter how hard she worked or how well the hotel did; in Jonny’s eyes she would never be as good as Teddy. Her grandfather was never going to allow her to take over the business fully, was he? She’d been deluding herself by imagining otherwise.
What a fool.
Ella felt as if she’d been punched.
“Then I quit,” she said quietly. “You can find yourself a new manager as well as a new chef.”
Jonny grimaced. “Don’t overreact, Ella, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’m not overreacting! I’m telling you calmly and politely that if you choose to do this I can’t be a part of it and neither can I have my professional reputation ignored. If you give Jonny carte blanche to hire Ricky then I can’t remain in a managerial role here.”
Her grandfather glowered at her. He wasn’t used to people saying no to him and Ella felt a growing admiration for Alice Tremaine. No wonder Jonny was having a hard time believing that she really was postponing the wedding.
“If you walk out of this office now, Ella, then that’s it. No second chances.”
She walked past him and paused in the doorway, fighting the tears stinging her eyes.
“That works both ways, Grandpa. Just remember that.”
All Ella wanted to do was escape and find a quiet place to try and calm her racing thoughts, but as she hurried away from her office she bumped straight into Symon Tremaine on his way out after filming. Oh no. This was all she needed. The last time they’d been alone she’d embarrassed them both by kissing him, and now she was on the edge of breaking down. Why was it that he always caught her when she was least in control of her emotions?
And how was it that even though she was so upset she still felt a flash of longing?
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Ella fibbed. She gulped back her tears and bit the inside of her cheek hard because Ella St Milton never, ever showed weakness.
“I have two – no three – sisters and I think I can tell when a woman’s upset,” said Symon. “What is it?”
His gentle tone undid Ella and tears spilled down her cheeks. Symon reached out and brushed them away, which only made her cry harder. Nobody had wiped her tears away for as long as she could remember, but as Symon’s thumb caressed her cheek she felt as though he’d been doing this all her life. She had the strangest conviction that it didn’t matter at all if he saw her crumbling. He wouldn’t judge or exploit her for being upset; rather, he understood.
“I’ve quit,” she choked.
Symon stared d
own at her. “Sorry, Ella. I think I must have hollandaise sauce in my ears or something because I thought you just said you’d quit?”
Ella half laughed and half sobbed. “It’s not the hollandaise sauce. I really have quit. I just told my grandfather. Oh God. I’ve just taken bookings for three summer weddings too. What a bloody mess!”
Oh great. More tears. What the hell was happening to her? Now Symon would want to know all the ins and outs and she was way too raw for an interrogation. Ella braced herself for an onslaught.
But Symon Tremaine didn’t ask her anything. Instead he simply put his arms around her. Ella pressed her face against his chest. He smelt the same as before, of salt and fresh air and soap.
“Maybe it’s not a mess at all.”
She looked up at him in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe it’s a good thing?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ella snapped. “And don’t you dare come out with a load of hippy drivel either about coincidences and serendipity. I’m not Silver bloody Starr.”
But Symon just smiled at this, which riled Ella. She took a step back and, placing her hands on his chest, pushed him away.
“I have no idea what you think is so funny but, go on, gloat if you must. I probably deserve it. Go on, have fun.”
The smile slipped away but the blue eyes that met hers were so full of kindness that Ella’s fury vanished. Oh God. Please come back. Being angry was something she could do automatically. Dealing with sympathy and kindness? That was more of a challenge.
“Oh, Ella. Whatever’s happened to you that makes you think anyone would take pleasure in this? I’m laughing because you’re far better than Silver Starr! Talk about serendipity and fate. You’ve actually beaten me to it. Who would have thought?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Symon breathed out slowly as though he’d been holding onto something.
“I made a decision today that lots of people won’t understand. I’m not sure I understand it either but it feels right and that means I have to listen to it. The only problem was that I was worried that in making it I was going to let you down.”
Ella was so intrigued that she forgot her misery for a moment.
“What decision?”
“This whole television thing? It really isn’t for me.”
“But you’re brilliant!” Ella had watched Symon filming and he made it look easy. She’d also watched him smoulder out of the television screen and had been unable to drag her eyes away. Recalling this now, she felt hot all over.
He flushed and tucked a strand of fox-red hair behind each ear, a nervous gesture that she found touching.
“That’s very kind of you but the truth is I absolutely hate it. I hate the filming and the styling and being the centre of attention. Maybe it’s a middle-child thing, but I like being away from the spotlight – perhaps that’s what I enjoy about being a chef? You might be the star of the kitchen but outside of that space the diners don’t care who you are or what you look like.”
It sounded a lot like being a hotel manager. She managed everything from behind the scenes but let Jonny take the credit and lovely, smiley, people-friendly Tom be the face of the operation.
“I miss being in the Seagull and I miss my real life,” Symon continued. “I’m probably a freak in this world of Big Brother and X Factor, but I don’t want to be famous. To be honest I’ve only stuck the filming this long for your sake.”
“My sake? How do you work that out?” Was he alluding to their kiss? Ella’s heart started to thud against her chest. Did she want him to mean this? Her head began to whirl as her carefully ordered world began crashing out of orbit.
“I can see how hard you work and how much this opportunity meant to you,” Symon continued. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m not a saint and the money could certainly help me, but most of all I didn’t want to let you down when I could see how excited you were.” He paused, then added softly, “I think far too many people have already let you down and I’m not going to be another.”
Ella didn’t know what to think. Nobody had ever said anything like this to her before, not even the therapists Jonny had spent a small fortune on when she’d been a teenager. Ella had been something of an expert at hiding the truth from them and in the end it had almost become a game before morphing into a habit. How the hell had Symon Tremaine managed to see beneath the armour she’d spent so many years perfecting?
“So if neither of us are working here anymore, what are we wasting time for? Let’s get out of here.” Symon held out his hand and, without hesitation or quite knowing why she did so, Ella found herself taking it.
“Where are we going?”
“That’s a secret but there’s something I’d like to show you. I’ve been mulling it over for a while and now we’re free agents I’d value your opinion on it.”
Her fingers laced with Symon’s, Ella followed him back through the hotel. As always, the place was a busy beehive of activity and, watching the staff and looking around at the gleaming oak panelling and sparkling windows, she felt the old familiar thrill of pride. This was swiftly replaced by a pang of grief.
Oh my God. Had she really just quit?
Her eyes filled, but she blinked the tears away. There was no way she would let any of her staff (or maybe she ought to say her ex-staff) see her upset. She might not have her job anymore but she still had her pride.
Symon walked fast and Ella, suddenly exhausted at the thought of all she’d lost, could hardly keep up. She’d never noticed before how tall Symon was. He was just as tall as Jake and Danny, and his strides were long and powerful. He was still holding her hand and she was half running to match his pace. By the time they reached the back entrance of the hotel, the less glamorous area where the staff left their coats and sometimes snuck to enjoy a crafty cigarette, Ella was gasping.
She needed to up her workout regime.
Symon was holding the door for Ella. He let go of her hand and she felt bereft because holding onto him for those few moments had been like clutching a life raft.
They stepped into the bright spring sunshine and he turned to her with a grin.
“Apologies for the speedy exit. I wanted to make a break for freedom before one of the TV crew spotted me and dragged me back for cutaways or, God help me, another take on the sodding hollandaise sauce.”
Although his tone was light Ella could see that Symon was only half joking.
He pointed his keys at a car parked opposite, so muddy it was impossible to tell its make, and when the lights flashed Ella realised it was his.
“Hop in,” said Symon. “I know it’s not a Range Rover but it’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.”
“I don’t have the Range Rover anymore,” Ella told him once they were inside the vehicle. “I had to give it to Charlie to keep him on at the hotel.”
“Bloody hell. He was blackmailing you? What a bastard!”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that but I guess he was in a way,” Ella said quietly. What an idiot she’d been. She should have stood up to Charlie a long time ago and her grandfather too. Thinking about the row she’d had with Jonny made her feel quite sick and as Symon drove out of the hotel grounds, she looked down at her hands rather than at the beautiful building and sweeping lawns. Walking away from all this was going to break her heart. Without the hotel and her job, who was she? What was she for?
Where would she live? What would she do? She supposed she would have to fly out to Palm Beach and ask her mother and stepfather for some help. It wasn’t a happy thought.
“We’re out,” announced Symon as they rattled over the cattle grid and onto the lane. “You are now free to talk and I have escaped death by hollandaise.”
In spite of everything Ella laughed.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “You had me worried for a moment there. It actually looked as though you were crying.”
“Me? Never. I’m made of ston
e,” replied Ella. “Haven’t you heard what they say about me?”
He gave her a sideways look. “I have and I promise it’s not as bad as you probably think. In fact, it isn’t bad at all. The staff think you’re great.”
They did?
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yes, really. Now, before your head gets too big, put your seat belt on and let’s go for a drive. I don’t know about you but I could really do with a change of scene.”
Ella felt the same: she didn’t care where they were headed as long as it was as far away from the hotel as possible. As Symon accelerated she fastened her belt and she didn’t look back. She couldn’t.
Seeing the hotel slide into a phase of her life that was now over would have broken her heart.
Chapter 22
They had driven about two miles out of Polwenna, up the hill past Mo’s stables and high onto the next windswept headland along the coast. The views were glorious from here and the hedges were splashed with primroses and early bluebells, as though nature had decided to flick blue and yellow paint everywhere. Even a few late daffodils had popped their heads out to feel the sunshine. Ella couldn’t help thinking that it was hard to feel down when the world was on the brink of exploding with life. Although the narrow lanes were thick with mud and still relatively free of worried holidaymakers struggling to reverse or doggedly following satnavs rather than their own eyes, it felt as though spring had truly arrived in Cornwall. Today the sun was out and the wide sweep of blue sea was sparkling like something Ella’s mother would wear to a gala.
The drive was quiet, neither of them speaking much, but the atmosphere was comfortable rather than strained. Ella had cried on Symon and she wasn’t sure if this was less humiliating than kissing him, but thank goodness he hadn’t referred to either extreme of her behaviour. The kiss he must have forgotten about and the tears she supposed he was used to with Mo and Issie and Summer around. Not that Mo cried about much at all. When Mo had cut Ella’s ponytail off all those years ago at school and been punished for it, Mo had refused to say sorry or shed a tear – even when she was suspended from the school for a week.
Recipe for Love: A gorgeous Cornish romance (Polwenna Bay Book 5) Page 21
