She'd picked out a darker dress with a wavy skirt. Something comfortable, yet still classy. She could almost imagine her mother squealing with joy, because up until a few months ago she would've never worn anything like this.
Her mother used to reprimand her for it, because she'd always said that her legs were far too nice to be covered up by trousers or any of the sort. And if she was being honest, her legs did look rather nice. She'd actually shaved, while it was still the cold season. A season where shaving legs was not necessary. She felt a sense of pride. It quickly simmered down.
She hated the fact she couldn't tell her mother these things anymore. She supposed that wearing skirts and dresses was her own way of dealing with things. Trying to rid of the guilt of having been gone for so long to find work in all sorts of places. Not calling enough. Skipping holidays and family meetings. She was grieving, and though there was probably some psychological explanation for everything she was doing, she really didn't care enough to find out.
She was still adorned with her grandmother's watch, possibly the most valuable family heirloom in her possession. Perhaps not so much in price, because the gold needed a good polish and there were enough scratches and dents to tell a tale of a lifetime or two, but it sure meant a lot to her emotionally. It was the only thing she had left of her mother. And any time she felt a wave of anxiety or couldn't catch a night's sleep, she listened to the soft ticking of the seconds hand. It reminded her of where she was, what she was doing, and that everything would be fine. As she now didn't feel the anxiety anymore of dining all by herself. Because in a way, her mother was with her.
While exiting the room, she didn't stop to think about the sinister half-opened door at the end of the hallway and quickly made her way downstairs. It was a bit before seven o'clock.
The dining room was really something else. It was a grand open space adorned with golden chandeliers and tables with pristine white napkins on shining plates. It was a symmetrically satisfying sight to behold, and she felt out of place to take a seat on any of the luxurious furniture. She wondered if they were actually expecting a grand feast soon or simply out of their minds. She presumed it was the latter.
When Nick thought enough time had passed for her to take in the spectacular view, he cleared his throat. It made her jump and though it amused him greatly, he quickly apologized. "I'm very sorry ma'am, but I'm afraid all the tables are reserved for our other guests."
She grinned at him. "Ah, I see. That's very unfortunate. I suppose I'll just sit on the floor, then." When she moved to swat some imaginary dirt away from the varnished wooden surface and was about to sink through her knees, Nick hurriedly stopped her. "Actually, I just got a message through that a reservation has been cancelled. No need to sit on the floor. Now, if you'll follow me, miss," he politely sputtered. She could see the relief washing over him when she stood again, and she only now figured it probably would have been a sight to see a guest sitting on the floor because a waiter had jokingly told them all the tables were reserved.
"What a shame they had to cancel their reservation, this table has such a good view," she told Nick, as he held a chair out for her. He'd seated her beside central window, overlooking the great view of the well-kept gardens. She spotted Matthew in front of a big fountain, who was struggling to control a rearing horse and she swore she heard Nick sigh and mutter "idiot" under his breath. She decided not to comment on it.
A figure appearing beside Nick made her turn back. "I think I'll take it from here," he said, offering a smile to Nick and then to her. Nick nodded, his eyes not leaving the unruly horse. "If you need me, I'll be right outside," he muttered, before taking off.
"It's nice to finally meet you, miss. My name is Jamie, and I'll be your chef for the time you'll be staying with us," he told her. He was adorned in a black kitchen uniform, not a crease or spot to be seen, with a leather apron tied around his waist. His hair was slicked back, in a similar fashion to Matt's, styled to the sides and back from where his hair parted. He had a kind twinkle in his eyes yet seemed a bit on the awkward side judging from the way he fumbled his hands a bit much. "It's nice to meet you too, Jamie," she replied kindly, "I was wondering what the menu is like for today? I don't understand if it's a limited one, seeing as I'm presumably the only one staying for dinner tonight."
Jamie's eyes widened, almost as if he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He quickly sprinted off and was back in almost the blink of an eye, in his hands a neat menu card. "My apologies. I'm not used to serving people," he explained, "I used to only be at work in the kitchens and send my own servers out with plates, but since we had to make quite a few cuts..."
She had been intently and quietly listening as to not snap him out of his ramble out of her own pure curiosity to know more about the hotel, but unfortunately, he caught wind of what he was saying out loud and paused mid-sentence. "Anyways," he cleared his throat, "I can make you anything you'd like. Even if it's not on the menu."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother you with that," she told him, "I'll see what the menu has to offer." "Miss, you could never be a bother," he replied, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. Her lips quirked up.
"Alright, how outrageous would it be if I asked you to make me a cheeseburger?" He laughed, "That would probably be the least outrageous request I've ever gotten from a guest, miss. I'd be happy to."
As he was about to head to turn, she continued, "Have you had dinner yet, Jamie?" He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "No, miss. I usually eat after all the guests are done along with the other staff."
"Will you and the rest of the staff join me, then?" She wondered. "I don't think that'd be very appropriate, miss," he replied shyly. "I insist. I feel like an idiot eating dinner all by myself in this huge room. Please?" She added and tried her best to look as miserable as possible. Jamie looked inflicted, his eyes darting to the entrance of the dining room for a moment as if he was checking to see if no one had heard him when he agreed.
It didn't take that long for Matt and Nick to show up and take a seat at the table, and though they looked as if the horse had given them more trouble, their frowns quickly turned upside down when they heard Jamie was making cheeseburgers. "I'm starting to like you more and more by the minute," Matt told the smiling woman. "Thank god, I wouldn't want you to spend dinner while thinking of me as bad company," she replied. "Like I already told you, miss," Jamie said as he set plates of cheeseburgers and chips on the table, "You could never be a bother."
Conversation was made considerably easy given the fact that she was talking to staff she had only just met, but she was glad they felt comfortable enough to let their guard down around her. "So, what do you do, if I may ask, miss?" Jamie asked. "Enough with the 'miss', Jamie. You can call me by my name," she answered, "and I'm a writer. At least, I try to be." Nick, who was chowing down a burger, looked up in interest. "Really? Written anything I know?" Matt smacked him across the head. "Speak with your mouth empty, you're talking to a lady here."
She laughed, "That's quite alright. I really haven't published anything yet except for the article here and there, but I think I've recently stumbled across an idea for a book." "That's great!" Matt commented, "What's it gunna be about?"
She hesitated a moment before answering. "I was hoping to write about the hotel, actually."
They all froze in the spot. She'd expected this response when she'd formed the plan to invite them to dinner and was about to elaborate when she realized it wasn't just what she'd said that was the cause for their sudden discomfort.
"What's going on in here? Having a tea party, I see?" A deep voice grumbled from behind her.
Turning around, she was faced with the sharp features of none other than Alexander Turner.
When she had read about him in the papers, she'd always imagined a much older man who was going to retire soon now that his hotel was bankrupt, trying to save his last bit of pocket money. The person in front of her, was the complete opposite of what she'd expected. A young, lean man dressed in an expensive-looking blue three-piece suit was staring at her with striking chocolate brown eyes. His hair was slicked back and his face clean shaven, defining his jawline and cheekbones in an impeccable way. He was an intimidating figure to say the least, and it seemed as though everyone at the table, save for Matt, had shrunken into themselves a bit.
"Miss asked us to join her for dinner," Matt responded coldly, his hard gaze unwavering. She had to admit that she admired his boldness in this moment. This was not the same Matt who had given her a ride and had been dining with her just now.
"Ah, of course," mister Turner replied smoothly, "allow me to introduce myself, my name is Alex Turner. I'm the owner of this establishment." His hand took hers. "It's nice to finally meet you, miss." And he kissed it courteously, making her skin tingle. "And you can call me Alexander." His eyes shot up to lock with hers and she was completely entranced.
"Nice to meet you as well, Alexander," she managed to reply, as he slowly dropped her hand. "I was just asking your staff more about the hotel. I'm rather interested in writing a piece about it."
"Ah, a writer then," he said as his sharp gaze flickered over said staff. "I hope they haven't told you too much about the hotel. Wouldn't want to share our best kept secrets, now would we?" The underline of his tone was threatening, and she was almost worried she'd gotten the guys into trouble, when Matt spoke up, "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that, mister Turner. I'm sure those secrets will unravel themselves when the time comes."
The silence that followed could've been cut with a knife as Alex' eyes turned cold. "I'd like to have a word with you when you're done, Matthew." It was all he said before storming out.
Matt sighed. "I'll best be going, then." And quickly followed after him.
"What was that about?" she questioned. Nick shook his head, "They're always this dramatic."
In the small office behind the entrance desk, Matt leaned against the doorpost as Alex filed through some paperwork. "I don't tolerate backtalk in front of our guests, Matthew. You know this," he said, not bothering to look up from the unorganized mess of files.
"She's our only guest, Alex. You should take it easy for a little while. You know, come and stay with us."
Alex rolled his eyes at the remark.
"But really though, what did you think of her?" Matt continued.
Alex looked at him and Matt saw a familiar twinkle in his eyes, one he hadn't seen for a long time. "She looks like fun," he simply responded.