Identity

“She would.”

“Starting there, I’d like to recommend her for a bonus. She put a lot of time and effort into training the new hires, and it’s paid off. I have a detailed report to send you.”

“Do that.” Nell stepped off, turned left.

“I love it up here. Rustic elegance. The high ceilings and beams, the warm colors, the use of American antiques and art. And the Lounge is really welcoming. The fireplace, the flowers, the sit-and-stay-awhile furnishings.”

“We think so, too.” At the end of the hall, she tapped her card on the pad on a set of double doors.

“Okay, wow. I’ve never been in here. Pretty presidential.”

The generous foyer, papered in a dreamy blue, held a rustic bench. A hunt table displayed flowers, candles, with two high-backed chairs flanking it. She saw a bedroom on the right with a bed floating under a fluffy white duvet, and pillows massed against the headboard upholstered in dull, classy gold.

The foyer opened into a living area spacious enough for a pair of sofas and a long dining table draped in white and holding several warming stations. The portable bar already nestled into the corner.

But the star of the show shined in the wall of windows and doors that opened to a terrace and the stunning view beyond.

The lake, dotted with kayaks and canoes, shined blue against the green of rising hills, the rounded peaks of the mountains.

“I’ve seen the photos online, but you can’t capture this.”

“Two bedrooms, two and a half baths. What we think of as a butler’s pantry we can stock with snacks and beverages at the guest’s request. Or when booked for a party, like this, a place for the catering staff to stow dishes and trays and so on.”

“It’s beautiful, and still doesn’t feel stiff and formal.”

“We battled the interior designer to get our way. We won. What else can I do for you?”

“Sorry, distracted and dazzled. I’d like to train one of the new hires as a bartender. Bailey Myerson, she’s a local, working her way through grad school. She’s an excellent server, and she’s expressed interest in learning. With the additional seasonal seating, we could use someone who’s willing to shift where and when necessary.”

“Did you ask Opal?”

“I wanted to run it by you first.”

“And you have a detailed report already written.”

“I do.”

“Send it. Tell Opal I’d like her input as we’re considering it.”

“All right. Last, I’d like to promote Nick to assistant manager with the appropriate raise in salary. He deserves it, Nell. It wouldn’t mean extra hours. He already stands in as assistant manager when I’m not there, and is ready, every shift change, to fill me in on any issues and ordering needs, and is always willing to pinch-hit when we need him.”

“In his quarterly evaluations, Don indicated Nick had an excellent work ethic, was a team player, handled his job with skill, but lacked managerial skill and abilities.”

“I disagree.”

“So did I, which is why we offered Nick your position. What makes you think he’d take this one?”

“Because he’s already doing everything I’d want in an assistant manager, and if at any point I needed more, he’d give it. What he’s lacking is the title and the pay grade.”

“It would be a salaried position rather than hourly.”

“And he’d make more than he is now if compensated appropriately, which I believe you’d see to. He’d make what he deserves.”

“Send me your report. Butler’s pantry,” Nell instructed as catering staff rolled in a table holding wine, and beer already on ice. “Ask him. Since we offered him your job, we’ll certainly approve of this if he wants the position. Ask him, and if he does, tell him to contact me so we can discuss.”

“Thanks. I’ve got about fifteen minutes before I’m on if you need any help with the setup.”

“It’s okay,” Nell told her as another table holding glassware rolled in. “I’ve got it. Half behind the bar, half in the butler’s pantry.”

Satisfied, Morgan used her phone to send the reports as she headed down to Après.

Nick greeted her with his usual grin. “There she is! We’re killing it with the patio seating. Who wouldn’t want to sit outside on a day like this? And our apricot colada just hit number one on the cocktail list.”

“Really?”

“You’re going to need to order more puree.”

He filled more orders when she stepped behind the bar, checked the night’s schedule and inventory.

She waited for a lull. “The Jamesons are going to offer you the assistant manager position, with a salary commensurate to the job.”

“What? Wait. They already have you.”

“And they have you, and value you. You’re already doing the job, Nick. It’s time you’re compensated for it. It won’t add to your hours, but it will be salaried rather than hourly. I’ve recommended that salary, based on your experience, your skill, and what others in the position are offered.”

When she named it, she left him long enough to serve the next two guests.

“Why would they give me that much more for doing what I’m already doing?”

“For the same reason you’ve worked here for years. Go home, think about it, talk it over with Corrine. If you want to pursue it, contact Nell and discuss terms and details.”

“You went to Nell to say all this?”

“That’s part of my job, like it’ll be part of yours to tell me if I’m missing something.”

He walked over, kissed her cheek. “Thanks. I mean it. Whatever we decide, I mean it.”

He’d take it, she thought as he clocked out. She’d met his wife—and their adorable baby—and knew Corrine was a sensible woman.

She considered that duty checked off, then watched Opal on the floor. Hopefully she’d check off the next without too much resistance.





Chapter Fifteen



When she hit another lull—Morgan credited the party in the Presidential and the dinner hour—she called over one of the more experienced servers.

“I’m taking a break.”

“You never take a break.”

“I’m taking one. Cover the bar, watch your own section. Ten minutes. Things are slow right now.”

She went out to the floor, tapped Opal’s shoulder. “I need you for a few minutes.”

“Do I look like I have a few minutes?”

“Yes. Suzanne, cover Opal’s section. Ten minutes.”

Though she followed Morgan out, she grumbled about it. “I need to keep an eye on the new hires. The patio’s full.”

“Yes, but the floor and the bar aren’t.” She went outside, kept going until they were out of eye-and earshot. “I want to talk to you about Bailey.”

Opal went immediately on the defensive, hands on hips, eyes hot under bowl-cut bangs.

“She’s doing fine. If you’ve got a problem—”

“She’s doing more than fine. I want to train her on the bar.”

“I barely got her trained the right way as a server. I can’t spare her. You oughta know that if you know how to manage.”

“I do know how to manage, and we can discuss your problems with me another time.”