Page 69 of Inarticulate

“You can’t call in temporary staff?” Spencer asked.

“I’ve called every recruitment agency, numerous times. I’ve begged, more than once, for the staff who previously resigned to come back, even if just for one night. I’ve done everything possible, and there still aren’t enough people to cover the wedding. Nobody wants to do us any favors the day before Thanksgiving.”

There was silence, the deafening sound filled with disappointment.

“With occupancy at a dangerous level, I can only assume the wedding is keeping our heads above water,” Mathew murmured.

“Yes. That’s right.” The wedding would infuse the hotel with the last burst of life before the inevitable death in a few weeks. “Without the function, we’d sink below the red line.”

“Then do what needs to be done.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Okay. Thank you.”

“And Savannah?”

“Yeah?”

“Check your emails and make sure your attendance at the welcome meeting is noted. I appreciate you going in to kick some Grandiosity ass, but now you need to resolve any bad blood. We can’t afford to be a thorn in their side.”

That thud in her chest increased. “I’ll try my best.”

“Please do. Otherwise, I’ll have to send Spencer to clean up the mess.”

In other words, he’d label her inadequate, just as she’d feared.

“I understand,” she lied. She’d worked too hard and tangled herself in too many strangling vines to let Spencer take over.

Mathew ended the call, allowing her to navigate to her inbox. She expected another delightful message from Patrick, or maybe a restrained email from Penny. Instead, her heart sank at the sender’s name in the middle of her unread messages.

Keenan Black.

Subject: Grandiosity Welcome Meeting.

Every word was professional. Poised. He offered his apologies over previous emails sent by his staff and hoped a casual conversation, while sharing a few drinks at the Grandiosity bar, would be a better way to make introductions. The passage was eloquent, his mannerisms so foreign in comparison to the texts he’d previously sent her, that she knew the message was faux.

It was a provocation.

A checkmate.

A resounding—you-wouldn’t-meet-with-me-of-your-own-free-will-so-I’ll-play-hardball.

Bastard.

She shoved from the conference table and clapped her three-inch heels to the lobby. There was a mob again, familiar faces standing in a circle. This time they weren’t conspiring in anger. They were smiling. Happy. Their conversation littered with laughter and optimism.

“Did you get the email?” Grant called out.

She cringed through a nod. “I guess you did, too.”

He made his way to her, leaving the crowd behind. “We all did. Management, I mean. We’ve already passed the details on to the rest of the staff. I guess your meeting with Grandiosity really worked.”

“Yeah.” She tried to pull off a smile but there was no way the uncomfortable lift of her cheeks was pleasant. “Just as long as everyone is aware that we’ll be in major wedding preparation mode the following day.”

Grant frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” she muttered. “Perfect.” There was no way she could admit the meeting was scheduled to manipulate her instead of welcome new staff. “Could you do a call-around and find out attendance numbers? I’ll make sure to RSVP for us all.”

No matter how cloying it was to announce Keenan’s deceit, she needed her team to remain positive. This was an important moment for them. They’d be able to enjoy their Thanksgiving without fearing for their future. They could relax. Unwind.

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