Page 1 of A Family Affair: The Plan
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Hope Newland understood that in order to achieve success in business, you had to have a plan: well-constructed, vetted, strategic. Emotion had no place in the process, as it blurred the choices, the challenges,andthe opportunities inherent in the plan. Her mother taught her this when Hope was a child, and while Abigail Newland had been referring to success in life, it also applied to business.
A clear head, an objective viewpoint, and a calm presence could diminish the pitfalls and therefore increase the likelihood of a positive outcome. Positive by definition of Southerfield and Associates meant achieving a mutually satisfying arrangement between both parties to involve, but not limited to, financial gains and the elusive “better life”. Hope agreed with the company’s philosophy and had been an active proponent of eliciting “positive outcomes” since she started with the company nine years ago. That belief, along with drive and commitment to each project she undertook, had earned Hope her current title as Director of Strategic Development.
“Martin, is everything okay?” Hope eyed the man sitting behind the massive cherry desk, took in the flushed cheeks, thebeads of sweat along his temples. Had he been cheating with salt and French fries again? She hoped not because after last year’s health scare that landed him on blood pressure medication and a special diet, he’d promised to change his habits. People said children were a worry, but an uncooperative adult with a laissez-faire attitude toward his health could be impossible. This man was an employer, mentor,andfather figure who included her in family celebrations, holiday gatherings, and the Southerfield’s annual getaway. “Martin?”
“I’m fine.” He must have noticed the concern in her voice because he offered reassurances. “I’m following doctor’s orders.” Big sigh and an eye roll. “Alice is making sure I do.”
“Only because she wants to see you running around with grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren?” He snorted, shook his head. “Four kids and no grandkids yet.” Another head shake. “I have a mind to ask the two married ones what’s going on, but Alice told me it’s not our business. You think that’s true? Should I keep my mouth shut and pretend they haven’t been married enough years to have at least one baby?”
That question made Hope fidget in her chair and stumble for a response. “I amnotequipped to answer that question.”
Martin leaned back in his leather chair, let out a laugh and folded his hands over his belly. “Good answer. You’re not ‘equipped’.” Another laugh, this one deeper. “I knew you were special the first time you walked into this office. Not many twenty-three-year-olds can conduct themselves with such poise, but you did. You knew what you wanted and were determined to get it.”
His smile and the compliments attached to it made her wish he were arealrelative, one who’d been around during her childhood to help protect her from the disappointments of a demanding mother. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The smile spread. “When Kent relocated from the West Coast office three years ago and you started seeing each other… Well, I’d hoped I’d walk you down the aisle one day.”
“Martin, please.” There’d been a time where she’d thought the same thing, but that had all died when Kent cheated on her with an old girlfriend. I had too many scotches and she came on to me, and…Kent always had an excuse and nothing was ever his fault.
“I’m sorry for mentioning it. My nephew doesn’t deserve another chance after what he did.” He sighed, adjusted his glasses, and reached for a folder on the edge of his desk. “Let’s talk about a project I’ve been contemplating; one I believe has great potential.”
Hope nodded, relieved the conversation had shifted from her ex-boyfriend to a project. “I’m always interested in hearing your ideas.” Martin Southerfield was a genius when it came to property acquisition and brand expansion for their hotels.
“The hotel market is saturated in the city––even the suburbs. Our profit margins have been declining, and we’ve got to find something different. Something intriguing that will draw customers and make them want to come back. That’s why I’m thinking about the bed-and-breakfast market, set in small communities.”
“A bed-and-breakfast market?” She fought to keep her breathing even, despite the sudden queasiness in her belly.A bed-and-breakfast?People described those places with words like quaint, charming, and cozy, but they weren’t the ones scrubbing floors, wiping down walls, or starching linen tablecloths. And they certainly weren’t scouring pots and pans crusted with flour and butter. At fourteen, that had been Hope’s job at the bed-and-breakfast located on the outskirts of their pathetic town.We’ll have a room rent-free, and food, hermother had said when she became the manager of Betsy’s B&B.All you have to do is help out around the place. It will be good for you, you’ll see. No more moving every five months…
“Why do you think people visit small towns?”
Martin’s deep voice pulled her from a past she wanted to forget, his gaze focused on her, brows pinched, as though he were stuck on one of the crossword puzzles he loved. Hope shrugged, kept her voice even. “I’m guessing the obvious reasons factor in: a desire to get away, slow down. Unplug.” She forced a laugh. “As if that’s even a thing. I’ve heard people do it, but unplug from what? Life? Reality? The world? I don’t know.”
His features relaxed and his lips pulled into a faint smile. “I’d hoped you’d say that. You don’tknowand are only guessing. I want you to find out.”
“Find out?” One breath, two, and then she pushed out the question. “How would I do that?”Please, do not tell me to visit a small town. Do. Not. Say. It. But of course, that’s exactly what he did.
“How else? I want you to visit a small town, meet the people, study the area, and look for opportunity.”
Hope had worked so hard to leave her pathetic childhood behind and recreate a different past, one filled with laughter, overnight trips…her own bedroom…new clothes…Once you head to college, you can be anyone, her mother had told her.Who would ever know?Her pale face had flushed with anticipation and excitement.Should we let lack of money and poor circumstances define you? Absolutely not. We’ll recreate Hope Amanda Newland, just wait and see. We’ll say you went to a private school, visited France, and have an affinity for designer labels.And all she’d had to do was learn French, including information about the people and the cities, and find upscale clothing at the second-hand store. She pushed asidethe memories and focused on Martin’s question. “Is that really necessary?”
“Of course, it’s necessary.” Martin’s expression turned curious as though he didn’t understand her reluctance.
Maybe if she pushed a bit harder, offered a different angle. “You could send someone else to gather the data and I could do the analysis from here. We’ve done that before…” The look he gave her said he was not buying her answer, so she’d offer a bit of truth. “I don’t think I could be objective.” How could she look atanybed-and-breakfast and not see herself starching tablecloths, washing windows, peeling potatoes? “I love skyscrapers, the theater, five-star restaurants.Amenities.” She leaned forward, worked up a smile. “Lots of amenities, like the ones our hotels offer. Massages, yoga, room service….”
When he laughed, those blue eyes sparkled. “Exactly, but we’re missing something, and apparently there’s a push toward the small-town connection and the personal touch of a bed-and-breakfast. I sense a huge opportunity; one my grandfather must have felt when he envisioned turning run-down buildings into luxury hotels.”
Every employee had heard the story of how Norbert Southerfield bought a midrise and converted it into an upscale hotel that offered a restaurant serving the best prime rib in town and a complimentary breakfast for guests. Seventy-five years later, Southerfield Hotels were in every major city in the country, close to theaters, museums, upscale boutiques, and five-star restaurants. What could a small-town location offer? Not high-end cuisine and entertainment.
“Small towns and bed-and-breakfasts have never even been a consideration. If the numbers are flat, we could examine our current locations and adjust. If you’re interested in expansion, why not offer a less-expensive option that will appeal to those on a budget?” They’d discussed entering an economy-level hotelmarket a few years ago, but Martin had tabled the idea because he wasn’t convinced the profit margin would be there. “I could put something together if you want to discuss it?”
“No, I don’t think that’s right for us. But the bed-and-breakfast market in a small town?” A nod, a soft, “That could bethe one. Just because our hotels don’t belong in small towns doesn’t meanwedon’t belong there.” Pause and a confident “I picked you because you’ve always possessed a calculating eye, and the ability to spot an opportunity.” Martin placed both hands on his desk, nodded his gray head. “You, Hope Newland, are going to find me that opportunity. You’re going to visit a small town, stay in the bed-and-breakfast, and tell me what attracts people, what makes them come back, and even propels a few to move there.”
“How would we even begin to locate such a place? Do you have an area in mind? East Coast? West? South?” Talk about the proverbial needle in a haystack.
“I didn’t hire you to play guessing games and this idea didn’t land in my head during a dream. Kent and I have been working on possible locations and have two strong possibilities.”
