Winnie Griggs - Once Upon A Texas Christmas

“But don’t worry,” he assured her, “I can handle the job for a day or two. That should give me time to interview candidates and make certain I get the right person for the job.” Though it would delay his efforts to inspect the property in the detail he needed to.

“We.”

Her tone and expression were equally determined.

“I beg your pardon.”

She met his gaze without flinching. “We will interview candidates. Judge Madison asked us to handle the staffing together, remember?”

What did this barely-out-of-the-schoolroom miss know about interviewing job candidates? “Of course. I’m sure your insights will be most helpful.” But he planned to establish from the outset that the final decisions would be his. His whole future rested on him ultimately hiring Bartholomew Michelson as the hotel manager.

Miss Fulton’s face took on a suspiciously casual expression. “You know, you’re going to be quite busy familiarizing yourself with the hotel and town for the next few days. Rather than you also assuming the manager duties, perhaps I could handle that piece for now.”

He sensed there was more going on here than her being helpful. “You misunderstand. The position we’ll be hiring for is desk clerk. I’ll assume the role of hotel manager myself while the construction is ongoing, and fill it permanently once we’re closer to the completion date.”

“I see.” She frowned, then seemed to rally. “Then, since we are sharing the responsibilities for the renovation, I think we should also share the responsibilities of the hotel-manager position.”

Why ever would she want such a responsibility? Did she think it would give her some sort of prestige? “That’s a generous offer but I think I should take care of this myself.”

She stiffened. “Are you saying you don’t think I can handle the job?”

“Do you have any experience in doing so?”

“I studied the work Mr. Crandall did, and even relieved him on occasion at the front desk when he had to tend to Norma.”

“It was inappropriate for Mr. Crandall to leave you in charge when you’re not employed here.”

“But I am employed here. Did you forget already?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s for an altogether different function. I’m sure Judge Madison intended to have you work in a more behind-the-scenes capacity—certainly not to do actual hotel work.”

Her eyes narrowed and her chin came up. “Judge Madison didn’t tell you any such thing. And this partnership between us will only work if we respect each other.”

He tried a different approach. “To be blunt, you admit to having very little experience. And being hotel manager involves much more than working the front desk. In fact, in many larger establishments, the manager never works the front desk. And if I have to train you on those finer points, I might as well do the job myself.”

“But this is the perfect time for me to learn. There are only three rooms occupied and the staff has been reduced to one maid, one cook and the night clerk. So supervision won’t be as demanding.”

“Which shows how inexperienced you are. With such a small staff, the hotel manager will not only need to help work the desk, but also see that all the smaller tasks get done, like tending to guest luggage, providing concierge duties and handling complaints.”

Her gaze didn’t falter. “All of which I’ll absolutely be able to manage.”

Stubborn woman. She obviously had a very high estimation of her abilities. “Do you honestly see yourself carting luggage and trunks up and down the stairs as required?” His conscience twinged as he admitted to himself that he would have trouble managing that himself with his injured leg. Too bad this place didn’t have elevators.

Her expression tightened. “I’d find a way to manage.”

He could see he’d need to act quickly in hiring a new desk clerk. “Perhaps a compromise is in order. We can divide up the front desk work between us—you take a portion of the hours and I take a portion.” He could make certain she was on duty during the less busy time, and he could keep an eye on her as well.

She studied him, and for a moment he thought she’d dig in her heels. Then her expression shifted.

“Very well. You obviously want me to prove myself and I can understand that. But in return, will you give me your word that this is just a first step. When a suitable time has elapsed, and I’ve proven myself capable, you will train me on the responsibilities of a hotel manager.”

“Agreed,” he said without hesitation. If she could handle the desk job—and he wasn’t convinced she could—then he’d humor her with the additional training.

And if she could eventually take care of some tasks, like managing small grievances that might pop up with the staff, it would free him to focus on the bigger picture.

After all, at the end of the day, Bartholomew Michelson would be hired as hotel manager when the time came to fill the position permanently. That was how it had to be.

Time to change the subject. “Do you have any thoughts on the decor?”

He wasn’t surprised when she nodded.

“I’ve actually been thinking about that quite a lot since I received Judge Madison’s letter. I want to draw on the word rose in the hotel’s name for inspiration.”

Seth winced as he had a sudden vision of pink splashes everywhere and overblown cabbage roses adorning every drape, carpet and bed covering in the place. “Before you go too far down that path, I should tell you I believe the place needs a new name.”

“What’s wrong with the current name? I’ve always thought Rose Palace has an elegant feel to it.”

“On the contrary, Rose Palace conjures up a gaudy, old-fashioned image. Something more understated and sophisticated would better fit the image of an establishment owned by Judge Arthur Madison.”

“Well, I think the name is charming, especially when you know the story behind it.”

What was with her and stories? Was it because her brother was a reporter? “And that story is?”

“From what I’ve heard, the man who built this place had a daughter named Rose who spent her life confined to a wheelchair. That man not only named this place for her, but also designed the entire first floor for her benefit.”

She waved a hand. “If you’ll notice, many of the decorative carvings and embellishments are at chair-rail height. There are no raised thresholds, and the owner’s suite is on the first floor.”

“Quite sentimental. But I doubt any future guests will know that story.” He ignored her outraged look. “We need a name that carries meaning today.”

She leaned back, her expression issuing a challenge. “I suppose you have something more appropriate in mind?”

“Simple is better. Naming it the Madison or the Madison House after its new owner strikes me as an appropriate choice.”

She wrinkled her nose, obviously unimpressed. “Is that really what Judge Madison wants?”

“He didn’t say one way or the other, but I can’t imagine he’d object. He usually goes with my recommendations on such matters.”

Her face suddenly lit up. “I know. Why don’t we call it the Madison Rose Hotel?”

It was his turn to be unimpressed. Why did she have to challenge him on every front? “The Madison Rose? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, I think it has a nice ring to it. It embraces the hotel’s history while acknowledging the new ownership.” She stabbed a carrot with enthusiasm, obviously convinced she’d settled the matter.

He rubbed his jaw, deciding he should pick his battles. “As a compromise, I suppose it’s not a bad choice.”

She nodded as if his agreement had been a foregone conclusion, then glanced around the room. “I still think we can use the rose as a theme for our decor.”