Jonathan Bryant was a great-looking man; it was easy to see where Archie got his good looks. But where Archie seemed quite cool and distant, not to mention like a real jackass, his father was the epitome of warm and welcoming. He stepped away, giving me the green light to grab something to eat and a cup of coffee. Not wanting to seem ungrateful for the hospitality, I did just that.
I scooped a few berries and some melon into a bowl, dropped a wheat bagel into the toaster, and as I was pouring myself some coffee I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the room. Wood paneled like everything else on this mountaintop, it was elegant and refined. An enormous table anchored the room, with comfortable swivel chairs all around. I noticed that there were place cards for the staff in front of each seat so I knew exactly whom I’d be meeting.
“Let me help you with that,” a familiar voice said over my shoulder.
“Help me right off a cliff, I’m sure,” I said just under my breath, arching my eyebrow as Archie stepped in front of me to pick up my bowl.
“Well, we are on a mountain . . .” he muttered.
“Do you speak to all of your guests this way or is it just me who gets this very special treatment?” I asked as we headed to the table.
He placed my bowl in front of a chair on the left side of the table. “Are you a guest, Ms. Morgan?”
I placed my coffee, and myself, in front of a chair on the right side of the table. “At your father’s request, yes.” I looked pointedly at the bowl of fruit that was now across the table from my chosen seat. His left eyebrow arched, he tilted his head at me, once more examining me with those searching eyes.
“My father,” he said, picking up the bowl and depositing it in front of me, “would do anything to save this hotel. Including bringing someone in from the outside.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is about, I’m from the outside.” I whispered the last part like I was saying I have the leprosy.
“Ms. Morgan, before yesterday how much time had you spent at Bryant Mountain House?”
“Before yesterday, Mr. Bryant? None.”
“Interesting, and before yesterday how much time had you spent in the Hudson Valley?”
“None,” I answered promptly, to his instant smug smile. “Unless you count four years in Ithaca. Which you undoubtedly won’t, since Ithaca technically belongs to the Finger Lakes region of New York State.” I offered my own smug smile. “I received my degree in hotel management from Cornell.”
Realization dawned. “Ah yes, you did attend Cornell, I must’ve forgotten that detail.”
I looked at him, brow crinkled in confusion. “You forgot a detail that I never mentioned?”
“I forgot a detail I read in your file. Won’t happen again.”
“My file?”
“You don’t think I’d let my father hire someone to turn our entire world upside down and not do my due diligence to make sure she’s qualified, do you?”
My eyes boggled. “A file. You’ve got a file on me. Wow.”
“Wow?”
“Wow as in, dude, that’s weird.”
Now his eyes boggled. “Dude? Did you just call me dude?”
“Dude, I also called you weird. How did you miss that part?”
I suddenly became aware of a great silence, the kind that presses in on you, a tangible Saran wrap clinging thing. Archie and I were just inches from each other, his hands on his hips and my finger pointing at his chest through the hole in my bagel while everyone else waited to see what would happen next. I looked at his father, who was watching us with crossed arms and a delighted grin.
Archie and I each took a step back, then another, like two high school drama kids given their first set of stage directions. I resisted the sudden and wild urge to curtsy and instead calmly, and with what I hoped was incredible grace, sank into my chair.
I met Jonathan Bryant’s eye, nodded and said, “So, let’s get started.”
The meeting went surprisingly well considering how it began. I met the entire senior team of Bryant Mountain House. Heads of housekeeping, catering, dining, groundskeeping, recreation, historical, guest services, and accounting. If a team wasn’t led directly by a member of the extended Bryant family, then it was led by someone who’d been here long enough to be an honorary member. Early favorites included Mrs. Banning, dining, and Mrs. Toomey, housekeeping. They’d insisted right from the beginning that any help I needed, any at all, I was to come find them right away and they’d make sure I had what I needed.
Although to be fair, this sense of generosity, a willingness to listen and learn seemed to extend to the entire team.
Except to Archie Bryant. He sat back during the meeting, staying quiet during the introductions, listening intently as his team shared some of their concerns. His father was clearly leading the meeting, but it became just as clear that Archie was the real eyes and ears of this resort. But when asked a direct question by me, he answered quickly and efficiently, offering no other information other than what was specifically asked for.
This wasn’t uncommon. Several of the hotels I’d worked for over the years had those among them who didn’t enjoy having someone come in “from the outside” and tell them how to turn their resort around. But never like this, never had I had someone so vocal about voicing their displeasure over my mere existence.
“So one of the things I’ll be doing, before we even start talking about implementing changes, is simply observing. Watching. Getting a feel for how things run.”
Archie snorted.
I didn’t react, ignoring his nasal outburst and continuing on anyway. “Mrs. Toomey, how long have you been working at Bryant Mountain House?”
The older woman smiled, tucked a pen behind her ear, and answered proudly. “I started here as a swimming instructor when I was eighteen years old.”
“She and I both started the same summer,” Mrs. Banning interjected, arching an eyebrow. “She played in the lake all summer while I was making beds inside. Before we installed the air-conditioning.”
“Be that as it may, we’ve both been here more years than we care to count,” Mrs. Toomey said, and both women laughed.
“Forty-nine,” Archie said from the other end of the table, and ten heads swiveled at the same time. “You’ve both been here forty-nine years,” he repeated, smiling at the ladies. “Dad’s already planning your fiftieth anniversary party.”
“That’s incredible,” I crowed, as the ladies blushed a bit. “Other than the fact that Mr. Bryant here just told us all how old you are, that’s incredible.” Laughter rang out around the staff, but Archie merely raised an eyebrow. “So Mrs. Toomey, you started out in recreation, when was it you moved into the kitchen side of things?”
“Oh goodness, I’ve done so many things here it’s hard to remember exactly. I suppose I started working in the kitchens more and more after I moved inside in the late eighties? I’d moved around quite a bit, working in reservations, at the front desk, even housekeeping for a minute—although luckily by the time I was making beds it was after we installed air-conditioning. But then there was an opening in management in the restaurant—they needed someone to run the dinner service and I’ve been there ever since.”