they want something, why go all that way when they can buy it here? With the gift shop as part of the hotel, our rent is cheaper. Maybe we could narrow the scope and sell it for a little less than everyone else.”
“That could work.”
“Excuse me while I fall over in my chair.”
Michelle glanced at her. “You’re allowed to have good ideas. You managed to work with my mother for nearly a decade. That means you’re tough or really, really stubborn.”
“Maybe both,” Carly said, thinking she’d never thought of herself as tough, but she liked the sound of being that way.
“I’ll run the numbers. It’s all going to come down to math.” She passed over a sheet of paper.
Carly leaned forward and took it.
A neat grid showed the various parts of the inn—the restaurant, front desk, housekeeping, the gift shop—and the hours of operation. Names had been placed in different boxes.
“It’s a work schedule,” Carly said, pleased to see it was close to the one she used, with a few modifications. Mostly in her hours. They were substantially less.
“A lot easier to do on the computer,” Michelle told her. “How can you survive without knowing how to use one?”
“I know how,” Carly told her. “I’ve taken business classes at the community college. Brenda preferred to handle it all herself. When she got sick, I offered to help, but she refused.”
“So it’s not that you can’t use the computer?”
“I know how.”
“That’s something. You’ll let everyone know about the new schedule?”
“Sure.”
“Then I guess we’re done here.”
Carly didn’t stand.
As much as she hated to admit it, Michelle had been completely reasonable. Was that a temporary phenomenon or could she count on a boss who was even-tempered and rational? It was a heady thought.
“You have something else?” Michelle asked.
“A couple of things. They’re related.”
Michelle leaned back in her chair. “Go ahead.”
“How are you feeling?”
“We’re not talking about that.”
The words came quickly, forcefully. Michelle’s attention immediately went back to the computer screen. Carly wasn’t sure if her work was that interesting or if was a defense mechanism. She would guess the latter.
“You’re tired,” Carly continued. “I know what I’m doing here. I can help.”
“Do your job. That helps.”
“That’s it? You have nothing else to say?”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “What more do you want? Should I tell you I’d be lost without you? That you complete me? That working together is great? I don’t know what it’s going to be.”
“Meaning if the bank weren’t forcing you to keep me, I’d be out on my ass?”
“I honestly don’t know. I have no reason to trust you.”
Carly wanted to point out that the truth was, in fact, the reverse. She shouldn’t and couldn’t trust Michelle.
“Whether you trust me or not, you need me. You’ve told me how things are here, so I’m going to do the same.” She stood, partially to give herself a sense of power and partially to be able to bolt. “You need to dress better.”
Michelle’s expression hardened and a muscle under her left eye twitched. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. This is a place of business where we deal with our guests on a personal basis. Your shirts are hanging on you and those cargo pants you wear are hideous. Dirty and stained and falling off. You need to dress more professionally.”
Michelle slowly, painfully stood. She braced her hands on her desk and leaned forward. “Get out.”
Carly stood her ground. “You’re giving our guests the wrong impression.”
“Get out.”
“Get your hair cut and try a little makeup.”
“Get out!”
The last two words were delivered at a volume that could shake windows.
“Fine. I’m leaving. But you know I’m right.”
* * *
Still fuming from her run-in with Carly, Michelle stalked out into the warm afternoon. Okay, not stalked. She walked slowly, limping, but she was moving purposefully in her
“That could work.”
“Excuse me while I fall over in my chair.”
Michelle glanced at her. “You’re allowed to have good ideas. You managed to work with my mother for nearly a decade. That means you’re tough or really, really stubborn.”
“Maybe both,” Carly said, thinking she’d never thought of herself as tough, but she liked the sound of being that way.
“I’ll run the numbers. It’s all going to come down to math.” She passed over a sheet of paper.
Carly leaned forward and took it.
A neat grid showed the various parts of the inn—the restaurant, front desk, housekeeping, the gift shop—and the hours of operation. Names had been placed in different boxes.
“It’s a work schedule,” Carly said, pleased to see it was close to the one she used, with a few modifications. Mostly in her hours. They were substantially less.
“A lot easier to do on the computer,” Michelle told her. “How can you survive without knowing how to use one?”
“I know how,” Carly told her. “I’ve taken business classes at the community college. Brenda preferred to handle it all herself. When she got sick, I offered to help, but she refused.”
“So it’s not that you can’t use the computer?”
“I know how.”
“That’s something. You’ll let everyone know about the new schedule?”
“Sure.”
“Then I guess we’re done here.”
Carly didn’t stand.
As much as she hated to admit it, Michelle had been completely reasonable. Was that a temporary phenomenon or could she count on a boss who was even-tempered and rational? It was a heady thought.
“You have something else?” Michelle asked.
“A couple of things. They’re related.”
Michelle leaned back in her chair. “Go ahead.”
“How are you feeling?”
“We’re not talking about that.”
The words came quickly, forcefully. Michelle’s attention immediately went back to the computer screen. Carly wasn’t sure if her work was that interesting or if was a defense mechanism. She would guess the latter.
“You’re tired,” Carly continued. “I know what I’m doing here. I can help.”
“Do your job. That helps.”
“That’s it? You have nothing else to say?”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “What more do you want? Should I tell you I’d be lost without you? That you complete me? That working together is great? I don’t know what it’s going to be.”
“Meaning if the bank weren’t forcing you to keep me, I’d be out on my ass?”
“I honestly don’t know. I have no reason to trust you.”
Carly wanted to point out that the truth was, in fact, the reverse. She shouldn’t and couldn’t trust Michelle.
“Whether you trust me or not, you need me. You’ve told me how things are here, so I’m going to do the same.” She stood, partially to give herself a sense of power and partially to be able to bolt. “You need to dress better.”
Michelle’s expression hardened and a muscle under her left eye twitched. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. This is a place of business where we deal with our guests on a personal basis. Your shirts are hanging on you and those cargo pants you wear are hideous. Dirty and stained and falling off. You need to dress more professionally.”
Michelle slowly, painfully stood. She braced her hands on her desk and leaned forward. “Get out.”
Carly stood her ground. “You’re giving our guests the wrong impression.”
“Get out.”
“Get your hair cut and try a little makeup.”
“Get out!”
The last two words were delivered at a volume that could shake windows.
“Fine. I’m leaving. But you know I’m right.”
* * *
Still fuming from her run-in with Carly, Michelle stalked out into the warm afternoon. Okay, not stalked. She walked slowly, limping, but she was moving purposefully in her
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