The Albright Hotel (A Frosty Season #4)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

T he Albright Hotel had only been open for twelve days when Maya first noticed the mistake.

Olivia got a frantic message from Maya: COME TO THE OFFICE. QUICK.

Olivia was doing a Pilates exercise video in her bedroom in a pair of leggings and a sports bra. It was the first half-hour slot she’d found for herself during that frantic workweek. Nervous, she hopped up, closed her laptop, and pulled a cardigan over her shoulders. She would have to enter the hotel side of the Albright through a side hallway, and she didn’t want any guests to see her in her workout clothes. She and Maya had already talked about wearing refined business suits or Christmas sweaters during the holiday season. But Maya needed her ASAP.

Olivia reached Maya’s office a few minutes later. Maya stood in front of her computer, tugging her hair with both hands. She looked frantic. She didn’t seem to notice Olivia’s outfit.

“Good. You’re here. Help me make sense of this,” Maya said in a sharper tone than Olivia was used to.

Olivia followed Maya’s line of sight to a few spreadsheets on the screen. Olivia wanted to groan—she wanted to say I hate spreadsheets! —but she’d promised herself to be more professional when it came to the Albright Hotel than she ever had before.

“It doesn’t add up,” Maya said. “Every day, we’ve lost more than a thousand dollars. Haven’t we? Am I crazy?”

But Maya wasn’t crazy. The numbers weren’t right.

Over the next two hours, Olivia and Maya did everything they could to determine where the money escaped them. They went through every expense. They calculated; they checked out what they’d already paid for food and staff and the carriages and linens and soap and so on. They dug as deep as they could. But still, it was as though the money slipped through their fingers.

“Okay. It’s not the end of the world,” Maya said although her face was stricken. She didn’t want to fail.

Olivia didn’t want to fail, either. She’d altered the course of her life for the Albright Hotel.

She saw it as a symbol of the brand-new relationship she and Maya forged—as sisters and best friends.

“I’m worried. If we can’t handle twelve days, how can we handle five years? Ten?” Maya said.

“It’s going to be okay. It’s just early hotel mix-ups,” Olivia said.

Maya wrung her hands. “Maybe we should have someone look at the accounts.”

“That’s a good idea.” Olivia schooled her face to look stable and calm. “Maybe a lawyer? An accountant?”

Maya snapped her fingers and grabbed her phone to call an accountant they were friendly with who promised to handle their accounts next year during tax season. Over the phone, Maya explained that they had a mix-up already. “Could you come by this afternoon and check it out?”

The accountant agreed.

“It’s going to be okay,” Olivia assured her again. She sounded like a broken record.

Maya and Olivia remained in the office, waiting for the accountant for the next hour. Neither of them spoke. Maya wrote emails, her fingers flying over the keys, as Olivia handled a few phone calls with upcoming clients and journalists who wanted to come to the Albright Hotel to write about it for next year’s issues.

The accountant breezed in with the air of a superhero, ready to take charge. Olivia breathed easier and told herself that everything would be fixed now.

But when the accountant pored over the spreadsheets, she couldn’t find where the money was being lost, either.

“It’s like there’s a hole,” she said. “Whoever made that hole understood how to construct it.”

“What are you saying?” Maya demanded.

The accountant raised her shoulders. “I’d be careful who has access to your accounts.”

“Nobody has access,” Maya said.

“Just be careful,” the accountant said. “I can come back next week and check in.”

“How do we get the money back? The money we’ve lost?” Maya asked.

Olivia wanted to remind Maya about their inheritance. But she also understood they couldn’t rely on their inheritance throughout their hotelier journey. If they did, it was like playing pretend with Aunt Veronica’s money. It wasn’t responsible.

They had to be good businesswomen if they were ever going to make it.

“Just figure out who made that hole,” the accountant urged them, “and take them out of the picture as soon as you can. I’m sure you know this already, but the first five years of a hotel’s life are the most precarious.”

Olivia and Maya made eye contact. Maya’s cheeks were drained of color.

They thanked the accountant for coming, then urged her to have a free lunch downstairs. “The pastries are to die for,” Maya told her. “Make sure to treat yourself.”

“I will,” the accountant said. “It’s the holidays! I can’t resist.”

Olivia and Maya parted ways later that afternoon. Maya had a migraine, and Olivia wanted to check on something at the front desk. But when she reached it, she found Harry waiting for her. He wore hiking gear and smiled in a way that meant he expected something romantic to happen between them . It was true that Olivia had let herself kiss him a few more times since that first time. She’d thought, why not? It was just kissing, and he was good at it. So was she.

And it was romantic to have a handsome man wait for you like this—in the grand hall of the hotel she owned and operated with her best friend and sister.

I’m happy. I really am, she reminded herself even though not everything fit together precisely.

It wasn’t a perfect puzzle.

But maybe nothing in life really was.

Olivia bundled up and walked alongside Harry, who regaled her with a funny tale from that afternoon in the kitchen. She allowed herself to fall into the cadence of his language and his deep voice. She thought, too, about how they must look from afar. They probably looked like a beautiful couple. People were probably jealous of them.

Of course, they weren’t really a couple. Not really. Did Harry want that?

Did she want that?

She didn’t know.

Olivia was so bogged down by her own thoughts that she hardly heard Harry’s question.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I asked where you see yourself in five years,” Harry said.

Olivia raised her eyebrows. This was certainly not the kind of question she’d expected from Harry Pathfinder.

She paused between two massive oaks. Their trunks were so thick that she couldn’t have wrapped her arms around them if she tried. It was often disorienting to think about the fact that this forest had been around for much longer than the Albright Hotel. It would outlive them all.

“Um? Gosh.” She scuffed her boots through the snow and considered how to answer Harry’s question. “In five years, I see myself here, hopefully. At the Albright. This is the first family I’ve ever really had. I want to hold onto them as long as they’ll have me.”

“Why would they ever get rid of you?” Harry asked with a soft laugh.

Because everyone gets rid of me! she thought.

But of course, she didn’t want to say that to Harry.

“Where do you see yourself?” she asked him.

Harry’s eyes were focused and intense. “I see myself settling down. Maybe I want to buy a cottage. Perhaps I want to make short documentaries about baking pastries in that cottage. Maybe I want to be a little pastry chef celebrity. Something like that.”

Olivia’s mouth went dry.

“I’d need a photographer for something like that,” he said thoughtfully. “I wonder if I’ll ever meet one.”

Olivia blinked at him. Does he mean me? He wants to settle down in a cottage with me. And make documentaries?

It didn’t make sense.

Olivia’s knees knocked together.

“That sounds wonderful,” she said.

“Doesn’t it?” Harry winked.

Harry went on after that, talking about the cottages he’d visited in Europe, ones that shaped the cottage he dreamed of in this future with Olivia. Olivia again allowed herself to get wrapped up in the fantasy. Don’t say no to happiness. Open yourself up.

Harry kissed her cheek as they left the woods. His five o’clock shadow scraped against her face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Olivia affirmed.

Harry had a few errands to run, and Olivia excused herself to her bedroom to finish her Pilates workout. Instead of pressing play on the Pilates video, though, she lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Harry’s proposition. But men like that always liked to talk about the future , she reminded herself. It wasn’t like that future was real.

And then she found herself thinking about Robby again.

It was like she couldn’t stop.