Page 116 of A Soldier's Return

Three days ago he would have given an unequivocal no to that question. The fact that he couldn’t honestly offer her the answer he knew he should stunned him.

“Sorry. Not my business,” she said, her voice somewhat stiff and he abruptly realized he must have been staring at her without speaking for several seconds.

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t quite know how to answer. Our hotel corporate office is in San Francisco, so I would have to say probably not. But I have a couple of great people in mind to run the place after we finish a few upgrades.”

Conan barked and for some reason, Eben was quite certain that look in his eyes was disapproval. Did he need to consult a dog now on his business decisions?

“Well, Cannon Beach is a great place to raise a family if you should decide differently.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered.

“Good luck with the Wus,” she said. “I’ve read a little about Spencer Hotels and I think your company would treat The Sea Urchin exactly as it deserves.”

“Thank you. Now if you wouldn’t mind stopping at the hotel on your run and telling Stanley and Jade just what you told me,” he joked, “maybe I could wrap things up here before Independence Day.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure they’d listen to me. I’ve only been here three years so I’m still very much a newcomer.”

Conan suddenly wriggled away from Eben and started heading up the beach. Anna gave a rueful smile. “I guess that’s the boss’s way of telling me it’s time to head off. Thanks for giving me a chance to catch my breath.”

“No problem.”

She waved and headed off after the dog.

Six hours later, Eben wished for a little of Anna Galvez’s encouragement as he sat in the elegantly appointed conference room of The Sea Urchin, frustration burning his insides.

He had been running his family’s hotel company since he graduated from The Wharton School in his early 20s. The company’s assets and reputation had increased exponentially under his command.

With a far-ranging strategic plan, he had worked as hard as he knew how, had sacrificed and planned and maneuvered Spencer Hotels to emerge from near-bankruptcy to its current healthy market share.

Through all the years of toil and negotiations, he had never felt as completely inept as he did right this moment, gazing at Stanley Wu’s smooth, inscrutable features.

The man was harder to read than the framed Chinese calligraphy hanging on the wall above his head.

“Mr. Wu, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else you and Mrs. Wu want from me. I have tried to convince you Spencer Hotels doesn’t plan any radical changes to The Sea Urchin. You’ve seen our business plan and the blueprints for the minor renovations we would like to see. You have physically toured each of our two other hotels in Oregon as well as two in Washington and I’ve showed you multimedia tours of several others. I’ve given you my personal promise that I will treat this establishment with the same care and attention you and Mrs. Wu have showered on it for thirty-five years. I want this hotel, I’ve made no secret of that fact, but my time here is running out. What else can I do to convince you?”

Stanley studied him for a full minute without saying anything—an eternity, Eben thought. Finally Stanley’s mouth lifted slightly in what Eben supposed passed for a smile.

“Come to dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. Bring your daughter.”

Eben gave a mental groan. Of all the things he might have expected, that was way down at the bottom of his list. It was also the one thing he didnotwant to do. The way things were going, Chloe would pitch a fit and destroy any chance he had of making this deal.

This was one more hoop the Wus were making him jump through. Perhaps one too many.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Chloe’s only eight. Her manners are not exactly what you might call impeccable.”

“Bring her,” Stanley said sternly. “My father used to say, if you want to know the health of the tree, study the fruit.”

Eben had to fight to keep from banging his head on the conference table a few times as he felt his chances for buying The Sea Urchin slipping through his fingers like sand.

This was a certifiable nightmare. His entire plans—all the months of study and work—hinged on the table manners of a moody, unpredictable eight-year-old girl.

He should just tell the man to go to hell. Eben had worked harder on this deal than anything in the dozen years since he took over at the helm of Spencer Hotels. If it wasn’t enough for Stanley Wu, so be it.

Even as he opened his mouth to tell the man to forget the whole thing, something stopped him.

“Of course,” he found himself murmuring instead, at the same moment a germ of an idea sprouted.

He thought of Chloe a few nights before at dinner, how polite and patient she had been while they ate vegetarian lasagna at Brambleberry House. If he could somehow replicate that behavior, there was a tiny—miniscule—chance he might pull this off.

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