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* * *
At 12:58, Hope walked through the door of the executive conference room with her back straight and shoulders squared. Terrance, the general manager, sat at the conference table with the food and beverage manager and the current assistant general manager on either side of him.
“Good afternoon, Hope.” Terrance smiled. “Please have a seat.” As usual, he looked like he could have stepped out of Inc. Magazine. Not a wrinkle in his suit, and his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly groomed.
After exchanging pleasantries, Lydia, the F&B manager, narrowed her eyes and asked, “What is your experience here, Hope?”
She straightened and met Lydia’s eyes. As if you don’t know. We have lunch once a month. “I’ve worked here ten years. Four years as a front-desk assistant and the past six years as front-desk manager. I know the ins and outs of a wide variety of hotel operations.”
Terrance steepled his hands in front of him. “You’ve done excellent work here, Hope. How do you feel your current position has prepared you for assistant general manager?”
“I’m good with people. When I took this position, the front-desk associate turnover was sky high. Nobody wanted to work the front desk.” She shifted her gaze to Mark, the outgoing assistant manager who was taking over their hotel at the Denver airport. He was also the person she had replaced as front-desk manager. “I haven’t needed to hire an employee in over a year. I don’t think any other department manager here can say that.”
Hope turned back to Terrance. “The assistant manager needs to know every detail of the hotel and make sure the small things are done right. The front desk is the first point of contact for guests. We deal with everything, and I’ve just about seen it all. My department also has the highest guest-survey ratings in the hotel.”
Lydia looked impressed, and Terrance had a warm glow in his eyes.
“I’ve been here for a long time, and I’m one of the most experienced employees you’ve got. Terrance, we’ve had multiple discussions about increasing my responsibilities here. In short, I think you’d have a very hard time finding anyone more qualified for this position.”
* * *
Sitting back in her chair, Hope looked at the wall clock, surprised it was nearly 3:30. Still on a high after her interview, she smiled as her phone vibrated with a text from Kyle.
Kyle: Dinner tonight? I made a reservation at Olive Tree for 5:30. Ok?
Hope: Perfect! See you then.
Olive Tree was one of her favorite restaurants, and she was definitely in the mood for a celebration. Hopefully, he wants to make up for being an ass last night, though he might have a point. This new job could be exactly what I need to shake up my routine a little.
Eduardo ducked his head into her office. “So tell me! How did the interview go?”
“Great.” Hope smiled widely. “They still have more candidates to interview, so they won’t announce the position quite yet. But they didn’t throw me any major curveballs, and I’ve certainly paid my dues here.”
“Well, you get my vote. Ok, I’m out of here.” He turned to look at her, one hand gripping the door frame. “You’re not working late again, are you?”
“Nope. Dinner date at 5:30.”
He disappeared out the door as she rose to help with the afternoon check-in rush, happy and excited now that the tension of the interview was over.
She may have started her day in a funk, but she was confident it would end on a high note.
CHAPTER 3
Hope pulled down the driver’s side visor and opened the vanity mirror. Reapplying her lipstick, she ran a hand through the slight natural wave of her shoulder-length hair. She touched up her eyeliner as her hazel eyes stared back at her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about her winter-pale skin.
Tonight was a celebration, and she wanted to look good. Kyle might not be the man of her dreams, but he was a solid, dependable guy, though a little distant sometimes. She’d certainly done worse in the boyfriend department. Stop. Do not go there. It’s been years—are you ever going to get over it?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Some of their best dates had been at Olive Tree. Even the weather was cooperating. The sun had set, but the wind was holding off its onslaught for the moment. The restaurant had a charming, bohemian vibe, with colorful tapestries draped along the ceiling. Candles in metal lanterns sat on tables covered with brightly colored tablecloths in tie-dyed patterns.
Hope walked through the bead curtain at the front door, inhaling the aromas of garlic and fresh pasta. Kyle sat at a secluded table. With a smile spreading across her face, she made her way over. He spotted her and ran a hand over his accountant-perfect brown hair.
Kyle gestured to a glass. “I ordered you a glass of Malbec.”
“My favorite. Thanks.” She studied him. His face was somewhat bland most of the time, but tonight it was pinched. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.” His voice was strained.
