Raindrops on Roses: Book One of the Favorite Things Trilogy by Millenia Black Page B

start Wednesday morning. We're
replacing a few people on the housekeeping staff and a gift shop
clerk." He checked his watch. "Oh. That's time. I need to return a
few calls before it gets later in London. Then I'm off to get ready
for the big interview."
    "Right," she replied. "When does it
air?"
    "Not sure," said Doug, leaving the barstool,
plate in hand. "I'll ask her, but it's either this Friday night or
next. Wish me luck."
    "Luck," said Priscilla with a mouthful of
penne.

    •~•

    The morning of the first interview at the
hotel came fast, and Priscilla took care to dress suitably for the
occasion in a silver-belted navy blue sheath and matching jacket.
She brushed her hair up into a high ponytail, did her makeup and
jewelry, and slipped into a pair of beige Tom Fords.
    "You look good," Doug said when she came
down the stairs.
    "Thanks," she said, smiling. "Let's
roll."
    They saw four people that
morning, then three in the afternoon for the gift shop position.
Priscilla initially liked them all but didn't trust her own
judgment once Doug started questioning them; five had buckled under
pressure. Turns out he knew exactly what to ask to get to the truth about their past
experience.
    "Who chose these applicants?" Priscilla
asked Doug when they had finished.
    "Jerry," he replied.
    "Well, I don't think it's his fault. He can
only go by what they have on their resumes or their applications,
right? And anyone can exaggerate their work history, Doug."
    "Yes, but interviewing effectively is a
skill, Cilla. You have to be able to read people and know what to
ask. It's not one size fits all, but not everyone gets that."
    Priscilla listened intently, absorbing the
information like a sponge. Her first proper venture into the
running of their heritage was surprisingly stimulating, and she now
realized she was more than ready to roll up her sleeves and get to
work.

 

    • CHAPTER SIXTEEN •

    T he Renaissance Hotel in Stuart was the perfect mid-way point
between his office and Mayfair Island. Michael had checked in,
still not quite believing how much life had changed for him in the
last few weeks.
    He did think about Amber—a lot more than he
wanted to. Her words about his mother had bounced off the walls of
their apartment and were now echoing throughout his hotel room.
    Whenever he thought about her rage,
Michael's heart began hammering away in his chest and his muscles
became tense. He'd maintained a brave face in front of her, but she
had frightened him. It was a side of Amber he'd never experienced
before.
    Well, she does have a lot
to fight for , now
doesn't she? he thought.
    Amber had always depended
on him quite a bit financially. Not just for herself, but also for
her mom, Julie. They were both used to squandering their own
paychecks, living well above their means because Michael was always
there and always willing. He knew he was the one making the $600 lease
payments on Julie Holland's Lexus. Amber had set up a monthly debit
from their joint account and Michael had said nothing, he had never
complained. He was doing well after all and saw no reason to make a
fuss; it was just money.
    And now that he'd left
her, he was feeling guilty. But he kept telling himself that Amber
was not his
responsibility, that she would just have to learn to shop less and
start taking care of herself. If they wanted to drive luxury cars,
it could no longer be at his expense.
    Signing into their joint account online,
Michael saw the balance was enough to cover Amber's living expenses
for the next several months, even if she decided to move
elsewhere.
    Well, I can leave her with
that , he thought. But he wouldn't make any
more transfers into the account.
    Having stayed in for the last few
days—avoiding the office, avoiding the world—this morning, Michael
decided to have breakfast in the neighborhood diner he'd seen on
his way to the Renaissance.
    When he walked in, he chose a corner table
where he'd be least likely to interact with other