Seth stared at the closed door. He’d seen the disappointment in her eyes and it had made him feel like a bully kicking a puppy.
She obviously had her eye on the hotel-manager job. He should have told her outright he already had someone else in mind for the job, but he’d been too cowardly to completely extinguish her hope.
He didn’t know which was worse—killing all hope from the outset, or letting her have her hope and then disappointing her when he eventually hired someone else.
Perhaps, before the time came to make the decision, she would have changed her mind or done something to show she wasn’t right for the job.
But the nagging suspicion that he’d be proven wrong about that kept him from sleeping well that night.
Despite how irritating the woman could be, he couldn’t help but admire her spirit and optimism.
* * *
When Seth entered the office on Friday morning it was obvious Miss Fulton had already been there. Fresh flowers, arranged in a china vase, perched proudly on the worktable. An ormolu clock sat on her desk. A small framed sketch of a dandelion sat on the table near the settee.
On the fireplace mantel, he spied another sketch, this one of a frog on a lily pad.
She had certainly made herself at home. It appeared she was trying to take their new office and turn it back into a parlor.
Ah well, he supposed he could live with a few feminine touches, so long as she didn’t go overboard with it.
The more important question was, did this display mean she was no longer upset?
Still wondering, he stepped into the lobby to find her talking to Larry and Darby. Larry appeared to be on his way out and Darby stood behind the counter, elbows resting next to the guest register.
Both men, who’d been informally chatting with Miss Fulton, came to attention when they caught sight of him. Normally he would have been pleased by the reaction, seeing it as a sign of respect. So why didn’t he feel that same sense of satisfaction this time?
Miss Fulton turned to greet him and she, at least, looked pleased to see him. “Good morning.” The smile accompanying her greeting drew one from him in return.
“Good morning. I noticed you added a few personal touches to the office.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I thought it needed a little warmth.”
“It’s your office, too.” He waved a hand toward the dining room. “I was just going for some breakfast. Care to join me?”
As they took their seats at one of the tables, Seth was relieved to see she had returned to her sunny-mannered self. Was it not in her nature to hold a grudge? Or was she still convinced she could sway him to her side?
Once Della took their orders, Seth moved to a topic that seemed safe. “When do you plan to set up your library?”
Her expression grew animated. “Soon. I want to free up the space in Daisy’s restaurant as soon as possible. She’ll be so excited to be able to accommodate more customers.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Did you speak to Mr. Hendricks about what we want to do with the front desk?”
“I did. And he doesn’t think it will take much. He told me he should be able to get to it sometime in the next few days.”
“Good. I won’t open it to the public until that’s all squared away. Which shouldn’t be a problem since it will take me some time to get everything organized once I move the books from the restaurant.”
Della brought out their orders and conversation ceased while they were served.
Once Della departed, Seth picked up his fork. “Will you need some help moving your books?”
She shrugged. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“I wasn’t going to offer my own services,” Seth said dryly. “but if you would like to ask Darby to help you, I can cover the front desk while he’s otherwise occupied.”
“Thank you. I may just take you up on that.”
It galled him that he was useless to help in a situation like this. The best he could hope for was to succeed well enough at business that he could hire folks to handle manual labor for him.
* * *
Even though Mr. Reynolds’s expression remained impassive, Abigail sensed he was frustrated. It must rankle for a young and otherwise healthy man such as himself to be limited by his injury.
And it was strange she could pick up on his feelings this way.
When they’d finished their meal, Abigail dabbed her lips and then put aside her napkin. “I’ve made some decisions on the decor of the lobby and dining areas,” she told Mr. Reynolds. “As we discussed, I’m prepared to go over them with you when you have a moment.”
A flash of surprise crossed his face, as if he hadn’t expected her to follow through on his request to be consulted. But he recovered quickly. “If you like, we can do it now.”
She stood. “My things are in the office.”
He stood as well and swept a hand in the general direction of the office. “Lead the way.”
When they entered the office, Mr. Reynolds moved toward his desk. “Let’s get to it.”
Abigail moved instead to the worktable. “I think I can show you better over here.” She rested a hand on the stack of catalogs she’d placed there earlier and waited for him to join her. “Right now I’m focusing primarily on the public areas of the hotel—the lobby, restaurant and guest parlor.”
He came up beside her, studying her materials. For a moment Abigail was thrown off-kilter by his closeness. It was as if her senses were suddenly heightened. She could feel the warmth of his presence, hear the sound of his breathing, smell the hint of coffee that clung to him.
“Walk me through what I’m looking at.”
His words broke the spell and she quickly tried to pull her thoughts together. “As I said before, I want to play off of the rose in the hotel’s name, but using it as a sort of subtle motif rather than going overboard.”
She held out her hand. “Here are swatches of the fabric I plan to use for the front drapes.”
He took the cloth she held out, fingering them as he studied the pattern and colors.
His expression didn’t give away any of his thoughts.
Feeling the need to fill in the silence, she explained further. “As you can see, there are two separate pieces. One is very lightweight and almost sheer.” She touched it lightly, loving the pale pink shade that was shot through with green sprigs. Did he like it?
“This second fabric is much more solid without feeling overly heavy. The maroon shade plays off the sheer print beautifully. When you layer them together, the effect is stunning.”
“And where do you plan to use these?”
“They’ll be fashioned into drapes for the lobby. When we want to let lots of daylight into the area, we can simply pull back the heavier layer. When we want to have more privacy or block out the view, we pull it closed.”
He nodded, still not expressing either approval or disapproval.
She lifted another piece of fabric. “The chairs and settee in the lobby are still good solid pieces. And I really like the rosettes carved into the arms and back. But the cushions are worn and faded. So, rather than replacing them altogether, I plan to simply reupholster the pieces in this fabric.”
This one was a soft but heavy fabric with ivory and green stripes. The green was an exact match for the green shade in the curtain fabric. Would he pick up on that?
He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and fingers, studying it from several angles.
Finally she decided the direct approach was best. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think it’s a good start.”
Not the enthusiastic response she’d hoped for, but at least it wasn’t negative.
“What else have you selected?”
She opened one of the catalogs. “For the guest parlor we’ll need brand-new pieces. I’m thinking something along these lines.” She turned the page and pointed. “Similar to this but less elaborate.”
He studied the chair she’d pointed to and nodded. “Certainly less expensive.”
She grinned acknowledgement but then changed the subject slightly. “While we’re discussing the parlor, I had an idea of something different we could do to better utilize the space.”
His face took on a wary, long-suffering expression. “I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath, determined to do this right. “What if we divided the room in half so that if two of our guests required the use of a parlor at the same time we could accommodate both of them?”
“That’s all well and good if we should need two smaller rooms, but the point of building a new parlor was to have a more spacious area to offer our guests.” He waved a hand irritably. “Besides which, that part of the construction is nearly complete and it would take additional money to change it now. Not to mention add more time to the project.”
“I’m not saying that we need to reconstruct the room,” she explained, “and I agree that there may be guests who would wish to reserve the entire space. But I think we can have it both ways.”
“Miss Fulton, it’s obvious you don’t understand much about construction. It’s much too late in the process to add new rooms now.”
How dare he talk down to her that way? “That’s not what I’m suggesting.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please let me finish explaining before you rush to dismiss the idea.”
His lips tightened, but he nodded for her to continue.
“I once saw a picture of a large ballroom that could be divided into two rooms by the use of a set of folding panels. These weren’t just any ordinary panels or privacy screens, mind you. Each panel was beautifully engraved so they were nearly a piece of art. And they were tall enough to almost reach the ceiling, insuring not only privacy, but also reducing the amount of sound from the other side. They were hinged together in a manner that allowed them to collapse against each other and be folded away when not in use.”
She came to her point. “We could build something similar, using wood etched with elegant floral carvings to fit the rest of the decor, so that the parlor could be divided into two rooms should the need arise, yet still open up into one large space when required for a large group.”
He rubbed his chin, nodding slowly. “I’ve seen something similar myself. It might just work.”
Resisting the urge to crow in triumph, she tried to keep her expression businesslike. “If you agree, I could furnish it in such a way that the pieces could be functionally divided between the two spaces when the divider is in place. And the only change that need be made to the room itself that would require construction would be to move the door and add a second one.”
Before he could raise other objections, she added, “From what Mr. Hendricks said yesterday, however, they’re not so far along that it would cause a problem.”
He raised a brow. “You’ve already talked to Mr. Hendricks about this? Were you that confident I would agree to this?”
She held his gaze without blinking. “I merely wanted to make certain it could be done with minimal impact before I bothered you with the idea.” She raised a brow. “What do you think? Do you agree it’s worth pursuing?”
“Let me speak to Walter Hendricks and have him work out firm details, then we’ll talk again.”
She supposed that would have to do for now.
Would there ever come a day when he would stop feeling the need to double-check everything she had to say?
Because even though she knew she wasn’t as experienced as he was, hadn’t she earned some measure of trust by now?