“I’m running a hotel. Between new bookings and a new business plan, I’m… I don’t know. Some days, I just think this place would have been better in your hands and not mine,” Peyton confessed.
Jenny’s facial features softened. “This is yours now, Peyton. I know it’s a lot sooner than you or your parents would have liked, but it’s yours. I’m always here to help you,” Jenny assured.
Peyton saddened. Jenny was just like her—staying in Daylesford because of responsibilities and loyalty. And she regretted the fact that she’d held Jenny back. Peyton put her coffee down and pulled the drawer open, taking out a large envelope.
“This is why you have to do this for me,” Peyton said, handing the envelope to Jenny.
“What is it?”
“Orientation papers for the Park Hyatt in the city. I called in a few favours from June; with her uncle being Park Hyatt’s HR manager and my recommendations, she was able to get you the managerial position they had open,” Peyton explained.
The disbelief washed over Jenny’s face as she opened the envelope and took out the papers. Peyton sat and waited. She would be losing a valuable employee, but Jenny’s dreams were more important than the hotel or the town. Only some were able to leave, and Jenny should be one of them. The hotel was losing a great asset, but Peyton didn’t mind.
Jenny stood up and placed the envelope papers on the desk. “I love this hotel, Peyton. It’s no Park Hyatt, but it’s something special. I wish you’d see that. You’re doing well. Your parents would be proud of what you’ve achieved for this place. I’m proud of you. Tell June I said thanks and I can’t wait for her new album, but I’m not leaving you or this hotel.”
A knock on the office door had Jenny stepping aside. Peyton stood up to see a man in a pair of cargo pants and dark-blue shirt holding a clipboard.
“I’m looking for Miss Spencer?” he said and smiled at both women.
Peyton walked around the desk towards him. “That’s me. How can I help you?”
He tipped his head at her. “I have the wooden frames and planks for the dance floor. I have the rest of the boys with me to start digging into the dirt and putting them up.”
“Right,” Peyton said with a nod. “How about you get them to start unpacking everything you need and I’ll show you where we’re building it all.”
“Sure thing, Miss Spencer,” he said, tucking the clipboard under his arm.
“It’s Peyton,” she corrected.
“And I’m Nigel. I’ll get the utes unloaded,” he said and walked towards the front door.
Peyton felt relieved. She finally had things under control. Over the past few days, she’d worked on a new business plan that meant incorporating more of the community into the hotel. But that part of the plan would take some time.
“See? You handled that perfectly,” Jenny said from behind her.
Peyton turned around and smiled. “I guess so.”
Jenny stepped forward and looped her arm through Peyton’s. “Let’s go see if we can’t find you a tradie husband.”
Peyton let out a laugh and shook her head. “I’m good.”
“Because Callum’s back in town?”
Peyton tensed next to Jenny. “He’ll be gone soon,” she said.
“And you don’t want him to go?”
“I didn’t want him to leave the first time. But that doesn’t matter. Callum is nothing to me. Shall we go out to the cabins? I’d love to show you my plans for some of them.”
“First, the tradies,” Jenny said, excitement in her voice clear.
“You’re old enough to be their mother!”
Jenny laughed. “And I’m married, too. But we can always look. There’s no harm in looking.”
Looking is the first part to wanting and touching. Looking is the start of the harm.
“Do you want to go to the party tonight?”
Peyton peered up from her Russian revolutions textbook and raised her brow at Graham. He pursed his lips and returned to his methods homework. He didn’t ask for an explanation. Ever since Callum had left, the people in town had started to treat her differently and Peyton hated it. She didn’t want their pity. Besides Graham, Jay Preston had begun to speak to her. He had always been nice to her, but with Callum gone, Jay had given her more of his time. At first, she’d been flattered, but then she’d come to appreciate him.
“Would you like to go, Graham?” she asked, placing the book down on the patio table. It was what they did every day since their moment on the bench—homework at either of their houses.
“I don’t want to force you. We can skip the party. We can either hang out at the farm or here?”
His dimple greeted her, and Peyton refrained from rolling her eyes at the grin he directed her way.
“We can go to the party.”
“What, my farm isn’t nice enough for you?” he sassed.
“I would much rather be at your farm than the back of the boathouse. But I have a feeling you need to be at the party. I’m thinking Krista?” Peyton raised a brow as she stood up from the chair.
Graham’s cheeks turned bright red. “Whatever,” he muttered, embarrassed.
Peyton let out a laugh. “I knew it!”
“You know nothing,” he bit back.
Peyton shook her head and pointed at herself. “I know everything.”