Page 31 of Wishing for Christmas
Really, she shouldn’t be here at all. It was her day to be sick, and if there was one thing she certainly was, it was unwell. WherewasMatthew anyway? His office was right behind the front-desk area. What could possibly be taking him so long to get out here?
The man with the plunger continued to drone on, unaware of everyone’s increasing discomfort around him. “And then whenthatdidn’t work?—”
“May I see the general manager, please?” the voice of the older woman interrupted him. It was clear she’d had enough of this man’s story and wasn’t willing to wait any longer. She was tiny and elderly, with short white hair. She had one of the hotel’s chunky throw blankets wrapped around her shoulders.
Before Clara could speak, Lucy chimed in. “Yes, ma’am, she’s right here.”
Clara whipped her head around, narrowing her eyes at Lucy, who was motioning with an open hand to Clara.
Clara froze, her eyes flying open wide. A song ended at the exact same time the purr of the heater kicked off. The Darlington lobby was completely silent. Clara’s face didn’t move except for the frantic darting of her eyes. It felt as if every person in the lobby had stopped what they were doing to look at her. Her heart hammered in her chest. She swallowed. She said nothing, paralyzed by the spine-chilling tension of the moment. She looked from face to face, not sure where to focus. Everyone waslooking back at her, waiting for her to say something. Her eye finally landed on the brassy plaque hanging right over the front desk.
The Darlington Hotel
Clara Jenkins—General Manager
Clara blinked and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. She squinted to make sure she was reading that correctly.Shewas now the general manager of the Darlington? Already?
Of course she was. Her jaw dropped in sudden understanding. She had skipped it. She had made it through that year—a year she had certainly never wanted to do anyway. She had gotten to the other side of it after all. A year of trying to impress Matthew. A year of learning the boring operations side of the hotel. A year of awkward conversations about their relationship. All of it done in an instant. No more complicated history. No more emotional roller coaster. The new hotel must have been ready ahead of schedule and thank goodness for that.
Her open mouth quickly transformed itself into a wide grin. She felt like the Cheshire cat, having won a prize thanks to her own cunningness. Or perhaps she felt more like Alice, lost in some magical wonderland. Clara still wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t going to wake up at any moment and realize it was all a dream. She pressed a finger against her smiling lips. She couldn’t believe her luck. That wonderful, magical, very convenient wish. This was certainly an unintended benefit. She had only wanted to skip the deployment. She hadn’t even thought about skipping that awful year of work. What a stroke of good timing that she was also able to hop right over all that and get straight to her promotion.
Clara gave a confident nod as she gazed upon the Darlington lobby. This was nowherhotel. She did it. She got straight to her goal without all the mess. Well, that was easy.
Elated over her new circumstances, she quickly shifted her mindset and put on her best professional smile for the older woman. She cleared her throat and raised her chin. “Yes, I am the general manager. How may I help you?”
“Oh, well, my thermostat seems to be broken. I’m not getting any heat in my room,” the woman said.
Clara’s posture straightened with the weight of her prestigious new title. “Well, that’s no problem. We’ll send maintenance up to take a look. We’ll have it fixed in no time.” Clara gave her a closed-mouth smile and cocked her head to the side. She was already beginning to feel confident in her new role. She was in charge now.Shewas the general manager. She squealed internally, just thinking about it.
Lucy’s voice suddenly interrupted. “Maintenance isn’t available. They’re fixing an issue on the roof right now.” Lucy was on the walkie-talkie, waiting for someone to answer at the other end.
“What?” Clara asked, her eyes drifting down to the computer in front of her.
“Maintenance isn’t available,” Lucy repeated.
Clara pressed her lips together. She refused to allow any insecurity to show on her face. She waved off the maintenance problem with a confident flick of the wrist. “Okay. Well, we’ll just give her another room then.”
“We’re sold out,” Lucy said.
Clara clenched her fists from behind the desk, throwing an annoyed glance in Lucy’s direction. Well, this was what being the manager was all about—solving problems. How hard could it be? She had watched Matthew solve these types of problems for years. Hadn’t she?
She stared at the computer. She didn’t know what anything on the screen meant. It had been a long time since she’d worked the front desk, and the reservation system had been completely updated since then. The program she used in the sales office was entirely different from the complex web of numbers and letters she was looking at now.
An angry voice sounded from out of nowhere. “Ms. Jenkins, what about my meeting room?”
Clara looked up, her eyes widening in horror. Mr. Spencer. She rushed away from the desk to approach her most important client. These issues would have to wait—Mr. Spencer could not. His business was vital to the Darlington, and she couldnot lose that account. Not on her watch.
He waited for her to say something. The only problem was she didn’t have any idea what to say to him. It was as if she had lost any ability to form sentences, or thoughts for that matter. She stood still, completely frozen. To say she was in over her head was an understatement. It was as if she were buried under several feet of snow.
She glanced over at the other guests in line. The first guest, who had still not been checked in, was growing more impatient by the minute. The Celtics man was stillholding that plunger—now resting upon his right shoulder—and eyeing her. Clara looked at the older woman and knew she needed to do something for her. But what?
Clara’s bottom lip quivered. She pursed her lips together and took a deep breath, trying her hardest to hide the fear that was building inside her. “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she managed to say. She looked at the floor, her eyes landing on her ratty old rubber boots. Her cheeks burned. She had no idea what to do.
A familiar wave of panic began to course through her body. She tried to take a deep breath, but felt it get caught in her throat. “I will . . . I . . . I don’t know how to . . .” She lookedaround, desperate to focus on anything besides all the faces staring back at her. She wanted to run out of the lobby and never come back. Perhaps she would have if it weren’t for the familiar face that suddenly entered the hotel.
“Clara, hey.” It was Matthew, panting and out of breath.
She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She had never been so happy to see anybody in her whole life. Matthew’s normally perfect hair was a sweaty mess as he removed his hat and hung up his coat on the rack. “Lucy called me. What do you need?”
