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“This garden is a prime selling point. But the inn has only six guest rooms available.” He gave her a regretful look. “I don’t see how that can generate enough return on investment to make it worthwhile.”
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re going to recommend to your mother that she close the inn.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is not to get your hopes up that the inn will ever be much more than it is today—even when we’ve completed the renovations.”
Even when...?
She momentarily closed her eyes, gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused. You are or you are not going to advise your mother that the inn be closed? That my aunt’s managerial contract should not be renewed?”
* * *
“I’ve expressed to my mother my professional opinion that the doors to the inn should be closed.”
Denny stared into the still-bewildered gaze of the woman standing before him. Saw the hope that had briefly lit her eyes evaporate. She was disappointed in his stance because she truly didn’t understand what it took to run a profitable hospitality establishment.
He hadn’t been toying with her when pointing out the dismal prospects of the inn and the gloomy odds of making a success of it. He’d only wanted her to clearly understand that the endeavor was a waste of money—his mother’s. And a waste of time—his. Who was his stepfather, anyway, to insist on throwing good money after bad, just to make his wife “happy”?
And to keep Denny out of the way to give Vic a boost.
Elden had dangled a vague “make it worth your while” carrot in front of him. Then he topped it off with what sounded like an unspoken threat if Vic didn’t make a go of things in his new position and if that failure, even in part, could be laid at Denny’s doorstep. Like it or not, if he wanted the slimmest chance at a future in a company he’d poured himself into, he’d have to buckle under Elden’s demands.
No matter how much it galled.
No matter how unfair it was.
He’d put too much time into GylesStyle Inns to walk away in a snit. If he could pull this project off...there might yet be a future in the family business.
What did he have to lose?
“I explained to my mother exactly what I’ve explained to you, Lillian. The risk. The unlikelihood of profitability and the preferable route being to shut down the inn.” He cleared his throat and steadily met her gaze. “But, regrettably, she disagrees with me.”
Lillian remained motionless, expressionless except for the growing glow in her lovely eyes.
“You mean—?”
“I mean I’m acquiescing to my mother’s wishes, and despite my personal reservations, the Pinewood Inn will have a second chance.”
A gasp escaped her lips.
“Please recognize,” he continued, “that I’m not reneging on anything I’ve said about the inn. I have misgivings. Extreme ones. Make no mistake—I’m not happy about this. But I love my mother and know she genuinely wants your aunt to continue as manager of the Pinewood Inn as long as her health allows.”
He’d just have preferred not to be blackmailed by his stepfather to give them this chance.
Chapter Four
“Why don’t you run that by Vic, Craig? That falls under his jurisdiction now.”
Gazing across the raftered dining room of the Inn at Hunter’s Hideaway, where he’d stepped into the lobby away from lunch with Lillian and Viola to take a call, Denny cringed at the profanity-laced grumbling of his colleague and right-hand man.
“I know, I know. But give him a chance. He hasn’t been sitting on his thumbs all the years he’s been away from GylesStyle. He’s stayed active in the hospitality industry, just outside the family fold.”
Or so Vic’s story went.
With a little encouragement, Denny finally got his colleague pointed in the right direction and off the phone without resorting to the lame excuse that he was busy working on a project for his mother. What he’d wanted to do was provide Craig with the precise answer his friend was seeking. Denny knew it. Would Vic?
This was the first of what would probably be many similar conversations with those in the home office with whom Denny had worked closely.
And it was already killing him.
Back at his table, he again seated himself across from Lillian and her aunt, who were finishing their meal. His, no doubt, was cold. “Sorry. Pressing business. Now, as you were saying, Lillian?”
For a moment he didn’t think she intended to respond. That she was irritated at the latest interruption of which she’d borne a similar brunt on several occasions that day. Then to his relief, she glanced at Viola before continuing.
“You’ve mentioned the need to obtain necessary licensing and permits. Drafting plans and getting estimates. Reinsuring an upgraded property. Aunt Vi and I are wondering when you’ll start that. And what the two of us can do to expedite things.”
He’d explained over lunch what his background was at GylesStyle, hoping that would give them confidence that he knew what he was doing. Being the son of Charlotte Gyles was far from the only thing he was known for.
“I’m going to get in touch with a Phoenix contractor who saw to—” He halted as both Lillian and Viola, solemn-faced, shook their heads. “What?”
“You’re going to bring in an outsider?” Viola’s tone was clearly disapproving.
“A whole crew of outsiders, if they’re available.”
A team he’d worked with in the past had multistate licensing and credentials and would be finishing up a remodel on a GylesStyle Inn in Scottsdale shortly. Maybe he could slip a few weeks into their schedule before they started on their next assignment in Santa Fe. Those guys and gals made some of the HGTV celebs look like amateurs. He needed pros who could get in and get the job done on the Pinewood in record time. Then he’d be free to get back to his real world—assuming Vic didn’t sink his ship.
Lillian exchanged a look with her aunt. “You know, Denny, that might not be a good idea.”
“Why’s that?”
“This isn’t a large town,” Viola said carefully, as if speaking to a child. “People will expect us to engage workers locally, or at least from neighboring towns here in the high country.”
“Going elsewhere will cause hard feelings,” Lillian clarified. “That’s something we can’t afford to do. Many of those who for years have engaged the garden for special events are local builders, plumbers, electricians and painters.”
Viola nodded.
“Well, ladies, I understand your concerns. But as nice as it would be to accommodate the locals, we need a cohesive, experienced team that can get in here and take care of business in one fell swoop.”
Both women again exchanged a look, then shook their heads in unison.
He could almost feel his blood pressure rising as they stared him down. He didn’t have the time to vet and individually contract the people needed. It would be like herding cats. And trust a local contractor to do it? No way would he bring in workers from a dinky town for a project like this. “Look, ladies...”
“You may as well shut the place down, then, young man.” Viola pushed her empty plate away. “People here need the work and won’t be forgiving if we move ahead in hopes of feathering our own nest at the expense of theirs.”
“We do have good craftsmen in the region.” Lillian folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “Hunter Ridge. Show Low. Pinetop-Lakeside. Canyon Springs.”
That was well and good, but he had no idea of the speed or caliber of those people’s work or the quality of their suppliers. Or if they’d even be available. Too much was at stake if he neglected his GylesStyle responsibilities for long. He did not intend to get down in the weeds on this project to keep his mother happy.
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