Page 95 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
Lisa nodded. “And how would you feel about trying out the receptionist job? I know you weren’t keen before, but now . . . ? There’ll be plenty of time for you to train while we’re closed for the renovations. What do you say?”
“I . . . um . . .”
“There’s going to be a new uniform.” Her eyes danced. “Citrus and purple.”
Shelley laughed, then drew in a long breath. “Okay, I’ll think about it. I’m still a bit slow, though, and some words are just so stupid the way they’re spelled. Like, is it even ‘spelled’ with an ‘e-d’ at the end, or ‘spelt’ with a ‘t’?”
“I think it can be either. You’re right, though. English is quite hard. But you’re doing great with it. By the time we’re ready to reopen after the renovations, you’ll be off and running.”
“Well, maybe,” Shelley conceded doubtfully. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all anyone can do.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“I don’t think we need to discuss the Bellingham proposal.”
“The lovely Georgina? No, I think not. Of the other two, I tend to favour Verney and Woolfe.”
Mike was only listening to the discussion between Paul and Alex with half an ear. He knew he ought to be excited about all the new plans for the Carleton — everyone else was — but somehow it seemed to be passing him by.
The hotel had been his whole life for thirty years, and he had loved it. He still did, but . . . What else was there out there for him? He was fifty-seven years old. Surely not too old to make a fresh start. What was that saying? ‘Don’t wait until you retire to start living your life.’
Losing Sarah had taught him the truth of that.
He glanced around the small office that had been his retreat for so many years. Why had he never noticed before how dull it was in here? No view, no sunlight. Sarah used to bring in flowers from the garden to put on his desk, to brighten the place up a bit, but since she’d been gone he’d never bothered.
No, he wouldn’t miss this room.
Paul and Alex were discussing saunas and gym equipment, studying a page on Paul’s laptop. “This company do a good range — good value and good after-sales service. I’ve used some of their stuff. It’s sound.”
Alex leaned over to look. “Yeah, seems okay. You’re the expert there. I’ll leave it to you to draw up a list of what we need and negotiate a price with them.”
“Right. Mike, have we got the quotes in for replacing the guest lift?”
“Oh, yes, they’re here.” With an effort he pulled himself back into the meeting, shuffling through the papers on his desk. “This is the one we’ve used before.”
Alex took the stapled sheets from him. “Hmmm. Would you recommend that we stick with them?”
“Not necessarily.” Mike shook his head. “We’ve had some issues with them in the past regarding repairs. They’ve let us down a few times.”
“Ah. What about the others?”
Mike handed over the tenders, and watched as the two men poured over the details, occasionally grunting or making a comment.
Do what’s right for you. It was a big risk, and he’d never really taken a risk in his life. He’d always settled for safe, comfortable. But he felt this was something he had to do.
“Okay, so are we agreed on that?” Paul tossed one of the tenders onto the desk, and held up the other one. “This is the one we’ll go with.”
“Agreed.” Alex nodded. “Right, is there anything else?”
“Er . . . just one thing.” Mike opened a drawer in his desk and took out the letter he had written earlier. “This.”
Alex frowned as he took it from him. “What is it?”
“My resignation.”
“What?” Paul stared at him in shock. “Why?”
