Once Upon a Summertime (8 page)

He nodded. “Well, thank you, Miss Gordon. My assistant will be in contact with you.” He stood to shake her hand again.

“Thank you.” She returned his handshake with a firm grasp. “I really appreciate your time, Mr. Newman.”

“And yours.” He made a polite smile.

A lump grew in her throat as she looped her purse strap over her shoulder.

“Is this the number you can be reached at?” He pointed to her résumé still laying on his desk. “Even while you're here in New York?”

“Yes.” She started to leave, then stopped abruptly, turning to look him in the eyes. “I know you're not going to hire me, Mr. Newman.”

He only looked partly surprised, but she could tell by his expression that she was right. He had no intention of hiring her. Who could blame him?

“I understand completely. Just for the record, I think your hotel is going to be an amazingly wonderful success. I wish you the very best with it.” She forced a final smile. “In the future, after I get some really good experience under my belt, I hope you'll allow me to apply here again. I would love to work for you . . . someday.”

“Absolutely, Miss Gordon. I encourage you to come back and apply . . . whenever you feel you have the references.”

She thanked him again and quickly turned and left, feeling precariously close to tears. As she walked down the dimly lit hallway, she told herself she was not going to cry. But when she remembered how hopeful Grandma and Mar
ley had been for her, how they'd asked her to call them as soon as the interview ended, she just couldn't help herself. She saw the door to the women's restroom and hurried inside, hoping to find a quiet refuge where she could hide her tears.

Since another woman had just
entered the restroom ahead of her, Anna ducked into the first stall. Taking in several slow, deep breaths, she attempted to compose herself. Really, it was not the end of the world. She would get past this in time. Besides, all of New York was out there waiting—why was she cooping herself up like this?

Finally, she was ready to emerge and get on with her life, but a pair of women were chattering in front of the mirror. They sounded like newly hired employees. Not caring to speak to anyone—especially a new employee—Anna remained cloistered in the stall until she heard them leave.

When the coast was clear, Anna stepped out and went over to the sink area to wash her hands. As she did, she noticed that the stone countertop had been carelessly splashed with water and that some splats of liquid soap had slopped onto one of the gorgeous glass vessel sinks. Anna automatically reached for some paper towels and began to mop it up. Cleaning and drying and even polishing the elegant surfaces, she worked at it until it all glistened like a showroom.

“What are you doing?”

Anna turned to see a woman dressed in blue jeans and a gray T-shirt leaning against a bathroom stall door and watching with what seemed amusement. Anna gave the vessel sink one last swipe. “Just cleaning.”

“In your business suit?”

Anna frowned down at her good suit. A lot of good it had done.

The woman frowned. “Are you on staff here?”

“No . . .” Anna gave one last buff to the gleaming stone surface, nodding with approval. “It's just such a beautiful restroom.” She made a slightly apologetic smile. “Seems a shame to leave it looking messy.”

“But it wasn't
your
mess.”

“I know.” Anna tossed the used paper towels into the trash.

“Yet you cleaned it up?”

Anna shrugged, ready to change the subject or at least get out of here. “Do you work here?”

“I do.” The woman finished washing her hands and, following Anna's example, used her paper towel to wipe up her own drips.

“Well, you're lucky to be employed here.” Anna adjusted her purse. “It seems a lovely place to work.” She turned to leave.

“What about you?” the woman asked.

“Me?” Anna turned back to the woman.

“Yes. If you're not on staff here, what are you doing at the Rothsberg?” She tossed her paper towel in the trash, then, with her head tipped to one side, shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and waited. Anna wondered what this woman had been hired for—if it was housekeeping, they might be sorry. She seemed too nosy and chatty.

“I just interviewed for a job. I was on my way out.”

“Oh? So maybe you
will
be working here then?”

“No.” Anna sighed.

“You mean the interview wasn't so hot?”

“I guess it was okay. But I, well, I'm just not what Mr. Newman is looking for at this point in time. That's all.”

The woman's expression grew even more curious. “Did you interview for the managerial position—the day manager?”

Anna was surprised. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“But you say you
weren't
what Mr. Newman was looking for?”

Anna simply nodded. Who was this woman anyway?

“What about applying for a different position?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I understand it's probably disappointing not to land the day manager job. But did you ever consider applying for a different position? There are still a number of management jobs.”

Anna was confused. How could this woman—especially as a maid—know so much about the hotel's personnel needs?

“Forgive me.” The woman stuck out her hand with an apologetic smile. “I'm Denise Newman.”

Anna blinked with realization as the two shook hands. “I'm Anna Gordon,” she said meekly. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Newman. I, uh, I just met your husband.”

“Do you have a minute?” Mrs. Newman asked as she pushed open the door.

“Sure. Of course. What can I do for you?” Anna followed her out of the restroom.

“Let's talk in my office.” Mrs. Newman led Anna back down the dim hallway and into an office that was a few doors
away from her husband's. “Have a seat, Miss Gordon. Let's talk business.”

Anna sat down, wondering where this was leading. On one hand, it seemed likely that Mrs. Newman might be about to offer her a job—possibly as a maid since she'd just caught Anna cleaning the women's restroom. Actually, Anna might even accept such a job simply for the opportunity to work here. But what would happen when Mrs. Newman discovered Anna had been fired and had no references? For all Anna knew, she would change her mind and rescind her offer. Best to go carefully—not get her hopes up.

“I know that you're a friend of Max and Marley. I saw your résumé, and I'm the one who talked Vincent into interviewing you. I've been worried that he's getting us overly loaded up with male managers. I told him we need some good women too.”

Anna just nodded. “That makes sense.”

Mrs. Newman leaned forward with an intense gaze. “So, tell me, Miss Gordon, what went wrong in the interview? What made my husband send you away?”

Anna took in another deep breath and explained the whole situation, trying not to go into too much detail but talking so fast that when she finally paused, she was practically breathless. “It was stupid of me to think I could get hired without any references from the Value Lodge,” she said slowly. “Stupid for me to waste money on a trip to New York. But Marley had already sent you guys my résumé, and she was so eager to help me. My grandmother was all on board too. I just thought, why not?” She held up her hands in a helpless gesture. “Because the truth is, I know I'm a good employee. I know I have a lot to give. I was top of my
class. The hotel I worked for in college gave a wonderful recommendation. I even think that in time, I could get an honest recommendation from the Value Lodge too. Once Mickey's aunt and uncle see what his work ethic is really like and how he influences the other employees . . . well, they might see things differently.”

“Might even give you your job back?”

“I wouldn't take it.” Anna firmly shook her head. “I'd rather flip burgers at a greasy spoon.”

“What about working here?”

Anna frowned. “But what about my references? Rather, my lack of them?”

“I saw your references in the ladies' room.”

“But I—”

“Look, I'm co-owner of this hotel. Both my husband and I are overseeing the hiring. And right now I have a position to fill.” She peered at Anna. “Although you might not want it.”

“Are you kidding?” Anna felt a rush of hope. “I'll gladly take any job you offer me, Mrs. Newman. Even if it's just housekeeping.”

She smiled. “As a matter of fact it is housekeeping.”

Anna tried not to regret her hasty offer. Instead, she just nodded. “Fine. I'll take it. I really do know how to do housekeeping. I was a maid at the Pomonte during college. I'm actually quite good at it.” She frowned with realization. “Although I'm not sure I could afford to live in New York on housekeeping wages. But you know what—I'd make it work somehow. Even if I had to use my savings to get by. It would be worth it, just for a chance to work here.” She nodded. “If you have a job in housekeeping, I'll take it.”

Mrs. Newman looked amused. “Well, the job is in house
keeping, but it's not a housekeeping job. I need someone to manage housekeeping. Do you think you'd be up for that?”

Anna blinked. “Absolutely. Yes.”

“It's not the same as being a day manager.”

“It's a very important job,” Anna assured her. “Housekeeping is the closest interface with the guests. A housekeeping staff can make or break a hotel.”

“That's right. And I want you to make it.”

“Are you serious?” Anna was afraid to get her hopes up. “Even without references, you'll give me this job?”

“I've always been a pretty good judge of character. I believe you'll do an excellent job, Miss Gordon.”

“Please, call me Anna. I mean, if you'd like. And I will do an excellent job. I promise I will.”

“Unlike your last employers, we will back you in your management. Your staff will be your responsibility. I'm sure you know that can be its own can of worms.”

“I know that housekeeping jobs bring in all sorts.” Anna remembered the careless women in the restroom, splashing the counters. Chances were they would be working under her. “I also know that good leadership makes a difference.”

“That's what I like to hear.” Mrs. Newman picked up her phone. “I'm going to send you to personnel to deal with the paperwork.” She paused. “I forgot to ask, when can you start?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Monday?”

Anna nodded eagerly.

“We have only a few weeks before our grand opening. I've already hired about half of the housekeeping staff. You'll be responsible for hiring the rest.”

“Great.”

“Virginia?” Mrs. Newman said into the phone. “I'm sending Anna Gordon your way. I've just hired her as head manager of housekeeping. Will you get her set up, then send her back to me?” She thanked her and then hung up. “Okay, Anna, Virginia's office is two doors that way. Says Personnel on the front.”

Anna thanked her as she stood. “I won't let you down,” she promised.

“I know you won't.”

As Anna walked to the personnel office, she felt like the condemned man who'd just been pardoned from the gallows. Oh, she knew that was being overly dramatic, but it's how she felt. Like she'd been in the depths of despair and suddenly lifted to the heights of hope. Sure, there might've been a time in her life—three years ago to be exact—when she'd have turned her nose up at the offer of a management job in housekeeping. But not anymore. And not in a hotel as swanky as this. She would do this job to the best of her ability. She would prove to Mrs. Newman—and her husband too—that even without references, she was worth taking a risk on. She'd meant what she'd said: she wouldn't let them down.

After filling out some paperwork
and being measured for a uniform, Anna returned to Mrs. Newman's office, tapping quietly on the partially opened door.

“Come in, Anna.” Mrs. Newman waved from where she was talking on the phone. “I need them here by today,” she was firmly telling someone on the other end. “If the shipment's not here by 6:00, I will stop payment and be in contact with my attorney. Do you understand me?” She waited with a furrowed brow. “Thank you very much. I thought you would. Good-bye.” She hung up and rolled her eyes. “When someone promises something, I expect them to deliver.”

Anna nodded. “That seems reasonable enough.”

“How about if I give you a two-bit tour?”

“I'd love a tour. Unless you're too busy.”

“I'm on my way to meet a designer in the penthouse right now. She doesn't expect me until 11:30. I'll give you a quick tour on my way up.”

Anna could hear the pride in Mrs. Newman's voice as she led the way through the luxurious lobby, describing where certain pieces came from and how some of the original grandeur had been restored. “As you can see, most of the furnishings are in place.” She pointed to an area where several leather club chairs and a soft-looking, enormous, olive green velvet sofa were arranged around an ornate fireplace. “A huge antique cocktail table with a white marble top will go right there.”

“
White marble
and cocktails?” Anna glanced at Mrs. Newman. “Hopefully no red wine will be involved?”

“The stone comes with a stain-resistant finish.” Mrs. Newman gave Anna a knowing look. “But I like how you're thinking.” She pointed out several other spots where various antique accent pieces were missing. “That was the vendor I was just talking to. He was supposed to have had them here last week. He assured me they are on their way right now. Hopefully he won't let me down. Or I'll make him pay.”

“I love the old-world style you've gone with,” Anna said as they rounded a corner. “So classic and refined and elegant. It fits the building.”

“In the beginning, when we first bought the building, Vincent tried to talk me into going modern. So many were doing it. You know the look—minimalist, sleek furnishings, lots of metal and glass. A lot of the finest SoHo hotels have gone that route. Trump, for example. But I wanted to be different. I envisioned ours to be more like a small version of the Plaza or the St. Regis.” She laughed. “Oh, I wouldn't go around repeating that.”

“It makes sense, though,” Anna agreed. “This does feel like an intimate version of one of those old fine hotels.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Newman smiled. “I do like modern, but it can be so cold and impersonal. Besides that, it will go in and out of fashion. And I am convinced there are lots of people who like the grander things in life, the type who appreciate this old-world elegance and style. Let's face it, some guests want all the bells and whistles. They like feeling pampered. Why not give that to them?” She paused to point out the area dedicated to a coffee shop. “Don't tell anyone, but we gave the contract to Starbucks last month. Vincent said it was simpler than the private vendor that was bidding for it. However, we've asked Starbucks to wait until our grand opening to reveal their name.”

“I'm sure guests will appreciate a familiar coffee. You know how people can be about their morning joe.”

She nodded. “You're right.” She took Anna over to what appeared to be a lounge area. “This bar came from Italy. It was shipped here in five pieces.”

Anna slowly shook her head as she took in the ornately carved woodwork. “It's massive,” she said. “I can't believe it was only five pieces.”

“Five enormous pieces.” Mrs. Newman slid her hand over the smooth bar counter. “But well worth the effort and expense, don't you think?”

“It's beautiful.”

“It will be a real moneymaker too.” Mrs. Newman pointed to a tall set of double doors nearby. Although glass windows were set into the heavy wood frames, they were covered with paper, making it impossible to see inside. “This is the restaurant. Chef Henri is in charge and he is absolutely fabulous. We're so lucky to get him. The plan is to open it simultaneously with the hotel. He's been equipping the
place for several months. He's in there training his staff right now.”

“That's ambitious—I mean, opening both the hotel and restaurant at the same time. But it does make sense.”

“Actually, it's not as ambitious as it sounds. We've leased the restaurant to Chez Henri for the first three years. So for now, it's separate from the hotel, which means less stress in our lives. But Chez Henri will fulfill our room service, and that's huge. We plan to take the restaurant back someday. That's why we gave Henri such a short lease, although I know he already hopes to extend it. We'll see.” Mrs. Newman led Anna to another set of doors. “And this, as you can see, is the courtyard.”

Anna stepped out to the tiled outdoor space and looked around in wonder at large potted trees, overflowing flower planters, an Italian-looking water fountain, iron dining sets with marble-topped tables, and even a gas fire pit in the center. “It's absolutely beautiful.”

“It is, isn't it? The landscapers were just here last week.” She pointed to the strands of lights strung around the tree branches and the perimeter of the courtyard. “You should see it all lit up at night, with candles on the tables and the fire burning.”

“I'll bet it's magical.”

“Oh, it is.” She pointed to the wall of windows that went into the restaurant. “Those are folding glass doors so that the whole restaurant opens up to this on a warm day.”

“That's brilliant.”

Mrs. Newman smiled. “My idea.”

“I love it.” Anna kept studying everything. “What a great place for a wedding.”

“Yes, but it would have to be a small, intimate wedding. The restaurant only seats about fifty—less if we needed a dance floor, but I've planned for that too.”

Anna looked at Mrs. Newman with admiration. “The Rothsberg is going to be a huge success. I can feel it.”

Mrs. Newman beamed. “I believe you're right, Anna. Vincent and I have invested everything in this venture. It has to be a success.”

Next she showed Anna the small but well-furnished conference room. “It's only big enough for a dozen or so,” she said. “But it's not as if we're a conference facility. We'll use this for our staff meetings, but it's mostly for the guests' convenience.” Next they went down a long hallway, which Mrs. Newman explained led to the housekeeping section. She pointed to a plain wooden door. “This will be your office.” She opened it up, flipping a light switch. “It's not terribly impressive, but you can personalize it if you like.”

Anna peered into the small windowless room with a mid-sized desk, several chairs, and some shelves and storage units. “It's perfectly fine.”

Next they visited the staff lunchroom and the maids' locker room. Both were serviceable and nice but nothing like the splendor that was to be found in the rest of the hotel. Of course, that was to be expected. Mrs. Newman pointed out the various housekeeping storage areas and finally the laundry.

“This is impressive,” Anna said as she surveyed the large, efficient-looking machines. “I'm glad the linens are done on-site. That's always a plus.”

“Yes. We think one of the secrets of success in a small boutique hotel is to maintain as much in-house control as possible.”

“It's the best way to maintain a high level of quality. No middlemen to deal with.”

“That's right. The buck stops here. Consequently, it saves us a few bucks too.” Mrs. Newman glanced at her watch. “I don't have time to show you a guest room right now, but maybe you'd like a sneak peek at the penthouse since I'm going up.”

“I'd love to see it.”

After they boarded the service elevator, Mrs. Newman slid in a key card, giving them access to the top floor.

Anna studied the elevator buttons and the legend alongside of them. “There's a pool in the basement?”

“Yes. It's nearly finished.”

“That's a nice amenity for guests.”

“Yes. We sacrificed our on-site parking, but we're leasing some space a few blocks away. Guests expect valet parking anyway—they don't have to know their cars aren't in the basement.” Mrs. Newman was checking her iPhone as she talked. “The spa facilities will be down in the basement too. Like the restaurant, we're leasing the spa space. But only for two years. In time, we hope to run it ourselves.”

The elevator doors opened into a light, bright space. Anna looked up as they emerged. “Is that a skylight?”

“Yes. That was Vincent's idea. Expensive, but a nice touch.”

“It's lovely.” Anna looked around the generous space. She knew that it was simply a foyer for the penthouse, but with its beautiful jewel-toned carpet, several carefully chosen antiques, some large potted plants, and a pair of inviting armchairs upholstered in smoky blue velveteen, it was very inviting. “Is there just one penthouse suite?”

“Actually, there are two.” Mrs. Newman pointed toward the hallway that ran between the two sets of elevators. “Vincent and I are using the other penthouse for now. It's been a real time-saver being right here. We thought it was just temporary, but we've gotten pretty used to it. Right now, the plan is to stay here until this place is running like clockwork. I'd consider staying longer, but Vincent won't hear of it. Lost revenues.” She slipped a key card into the slot next to an oversized and ornately carved door. “Now for the pièce de résistance.”

“I can't wait.” Anna felt almost like a kid at Christmas as the huge door opened.

“It's still a work in progress. But you'll get the gist of it.” As Mrs. Newman went inside, she called out, “I'm here, Valerie. Come to see your emergency.”

“I'm in the kitchen,” a voice called back.

“Feel free to explore,” Mrs. Newman told Anna. “Might as well see the lay of the land before it's occupied. Especially the penthouse. I want you to know this hotel inside and out, Anna. Well, mostly inside. But you know what I mean.” She slipped her phone into her pocket. “Excuse me while I meet with Valerie.”

Anna had never seen such a luxurious suite in her life. Not in person, anyway. She might've seen something similar to this in a magazine or on a hotel website. Then again, maybe not. The view from up here was fabulous too. She could only imagine what this space would go for—possibly as much as ten grand for one night. As ridiculous as that seemed, she knew there were suites that went for more in this city. For instance, one very posh New York hotel had a Presidential Suite that was in the $35,000 range. Crazy.

Anna walked around, carefully examining each piece of furniture. As she looked, she noted which parts of this room might be problematic in regard to housekeeping. She knew that these expensive suites attracted a very different sort of clientele. On one hand, these guests expected elegant perfection fit for royalty—on the other hand, they could totally trash a place like this in just one wild night.

At some point before the hotel opened, she would need to come back up here to make a careful list and take some photos. Then she'd need to see what kind of backup plan they had for replacing the items that might not survive a rock star's rampage. This beautiful white couch, for instance. Was there a way it could be slipcovered in an emergency? She hoped it had been treated for stain resistance. The area carpet was gorgeous in pale tones of blue and beige; hopefully they had a spare similar carpet stored somewhere in case this one needed to go out for cleaning. She would have to check on that. Did this discourage her? Not at all. These were just the kinds of challenges she welcomed—situations that required some thinking and planning on her part.

She decided to explore the second floor first. An elegant staircase led up to a comfortable “home theater” with enough seating for eight people. Beyond this room she found a seating nook with two easy chairs and a wall of bookshelves. Connecting to this, she discovered a small but very adequate bedroom, complete with its own bath. It was probably considered a guest room and would be used only rarely.

She went back downstairs to check out the master bedroom, discovering that there were two, separated by the luxurious living area. Since one of the rooms had a superior view of the river, she suspected it was the true master suite. Even
without the bed linens and with some pieces of furniture missing, she could imagine how grand this room would look. With an elegant yet peaceful color scheme of pale blue, ivory, and gold, it was truly going to be fit for royalty.

The bathroom was enormous and equally elegant with a perfect palette of white marble floors and wainscot, silver fixtures, black tile accents, and pale blue walls rising up to a very high ceiling with wide crown molding. A couple of well-placed massive antiques and a pale blue velvet fainting lounge added to the old-world elegance, yet its oversized jet tub promised spa-like relaxation. All it needed was an attractive towel shelf, maybe an antique, stocked with thick white towels and scrumptious toiletries and placed close enough that the pampered bather could easily reach it from the tub.

Anna was just about to exit the luxurious bathroom when she heard the sound of strained voices in the main room. They weren't actually loud, but the tones suggested a disagreement of some kind. She didn't want to walk in on them—that would be embarrassing for everyone. Yet she didn't like the idea of being stuck here, almost as if she were eavesdropping. What could she do?

“Since when do I need
your
permission,” Mrs. Newman was saying. “I thought we were partners.”

“We
are
partners,” the male voice responded. Anna knew it must be Mr. Newman. “Partners are supposed to communicate with each other, Denise.”