Chapter 9
If Abby had known that running a bed-and-breakfast was going to be like this, she never would’ve started one. By Tuesday, after four days of cleaning up after and fixing breakfast for one of the rudest men she’d ever met, she was seriously fed up. Glen Hawley was a jerk, and she didn’t care who knew it.
“There’s no such thing as guest confidentiality, is there?” Abby asked Janie that morning. She’d slipped down to Janie’s office for some advice and sympathy.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Well, I know doctors can’t talk about their patients, and you’re not supposed to discuss your clients. As an innkeeper, am I supposed to keep my mouth shut about my guests?”
Janie smiled. “Not legally. But, as a businesswoman, you’d be wise to respect your guests’ privacy.”
“Why?” Abby demanded. “My guests don’t seem to respect a thing about me.”
“Mrs. Hawley seems nice.”
“I’ll admit she’s okay. But her husband is a real piece of work, and I plan to do whatever it takes to make sure that man does not get hired as our city manager.”
“Just be careful,” Janie warned. “Or you could end up with serious legal troubles.”
“How so?”
“Slander, libel, defamation of character.”
“Define those terms,” Abby demanded. “I mean in layman’s words.”
“Basically, if you say anything about anybody that’s untrue, and if your comments cause that person some sort of harm, either personally or professionally, you could be liable in a court of law.”
“If I say anything untrue?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t need to lie about Glen Hawley, Janie. The guy is a selfish, narcissistic, arrogant—”
“Okay, let’s start with that. Calling him narcissistic is your opinion, correct?”
“Yes, but he is.”
“Are you an expert?” Janie asked. “Have you done a psychological evaluation of him?”
“All I know is that he treats me like I’m his slave and like this inn is a dump and he leaves messes wherever he goes and he’s rude. I don’t know how his poor wife can stand him.”
“You’re treading on shaky ground, Abby. If you go around town saying these things, including that he’s a narcissist, it could backfire and—”
“Fine, he’s not a narcissist. But he is a jerk. Even you have to admit that.”
Janie held up her hands. “I’m just saying.”
Abby leaned over Janie’s desk, planting both hands on the edge. “Are you saying you’d like to see Glen Hawley hired as the city manager?”
“No, of course not.”
“So do I, or do I not, have a responsibility to say something?”
Janie seemed to think about this.
“As a citizen of our fair city,” Abby continued, “and as a friend to the late city manager—our dear friend Cathy Gardener—shouldn’t I do something before it’s too late?”
“Just go carefully, Abby, that’s all I’m saying.”
Abby frowned. “Paul told me to stay out of it.”
“Paul might be right.”
Abby stood up straight, folding her arms across her front. “Well, I’ll take your advice, Janie. I will go carefully, but I do intend to go.”
“Just remember,” Janie said as Abby was leaving, “when it comes to harsh assessments of character, less is more.”
“Right.” Abby nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Abby went back upstairs, where she put away the breakfast things, then cleaned the Hawleys’ room, changing linens and replacing the missing toiletries, which she knew they couldn’t have used up. How was it possible to use three whole bars of French-milled soap, no matter how small, in a single day? Not to mention the shampoo, body wash, lotion, and conditioner. She suspected the Hawleys were tucking these top-notch toiletries into their suitcases to take home.
Finally, with her work done, she headed over to talk to Jackie Day. For starters she asked Jackie if she had any idea what kind of guests she had referred to Abby.
“I honestly didn’t know a thing about them,” Jackie said, “except that he was coming to interview for a job.”
“Well, he is the rudest young man I’ve ever met.”
“Really?” Jackie looked alarmed. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She broke into a slightly sheepish smile. “But I guess I’m glad you got him instead of me.”
“You have no idea.”
“Well, aren’t they checking out in a couple of days?”
“Unless you have an available room here.” Abby glanced hopefully around. “Seems pretty quiet here. Are you really still full?”
Jackie just shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry you got stuck with them, Abby. But sometimes that’s the breaks. There are guests like that. You have to accept that it’s part of this business. And then you have to learn how to handle them.”
“How?” Abby asked. “I mean besides spitting in their coffee and short-sheeting their beds?”
Jackie blinked. “You did that?”
“Not really. I just imagined doing it.”
“Oh, well … good.”
“So, tell me, how do you deal with a cantankerous guest?”
“To start with, you remain a professional. You do everything for them that you do for any other guest. But you also avoid them as much as possible. Most importantly you don’t let them get to you.” She pointed her finger at Abby. “Because if you let them get to you, they’ve won the battle.”
Abby knew that Glen Hawley had already gotten to her.
“And then”—Jackie smirked—“you put them on your bad list, and you never rent a room to them again.”
“That’s for sure.” Abby lowered her voice. “There’s one more thing I plan to do as well.”
“What?”
“I’m going to get the word out about this guy before he gets hired as city manager.”
“He’s applying for city manager?” Jackie looked shocked. “Oh, my!”
“Marsha Lake just happens to be—”
“A very good friend,” Jackie finished for her.
“As well as head of the finance department.”
“You’re going to tell her?”
“I am.”
“Good for you, Abby. The last thing this town needs is a lousy city manager. We were barely rebounding from the economy when Cathy Gardener passed on. I sure do miss her.”
“Out of respect for her memory and love of this town, I feel it’s my duty to speak up.”
“You go, girl.” Jackie raised a defiant fist.
“Are you sure that your inn is really full?”
Jackie just grinned. “It is now.”
From her car, Abby called Marsha and caught her on her lunch break. Abby asked if they could meet for coffee this afternoon.
“This afternoon?” Marsha sounded unsure. “We’re kind of busy doing interviews for the manager job this afternoon.”
“Yes, that’s exactly why I want to talk to you.”
“Really?”
“I have some insider information about one of your candidates,” Abby said carefully. “I wanted to share it with someone and thought of you.”
“Interesting.”
“So how about meeting me for coffee?”
“Coffee this afternoon is impossible,” Marsha told her. “But if you can meet me in my office, we don’t head back into the interviews until one fifteen.”
Abby looked at her watch. “I’m on my way.”
As she drove the few blocks to city hall, Abby tried to formulate her thoughts. She planned to take Janie’s advice. But she also planned to do what she could to paint a realistic image of who Glen Hawley truly was.
On her way into the building, Abby wished she’d dressed a bit more professionally today. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Hey,” Paul said as he emerged from the building department, “what are you doing here?”
Abby felt a wave of guilt. “Just having coffee with Marsha Lake,” she said quickly. “How about you?”
He held up some papers. “Just getting the building permit for Caroline’s house.” He frowned at her. “Why are you having coffee with Marsha?” he asked suspiciously.
“Because we need to catch up.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to hurry.” She took off, but she could feel him watching her and knew he was jumping to conclusions. She’d have to deal with him later.
“Hey, Abby.” Marsha smiled as Abby came into her office. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Abby started to go into a lengthy explanation about her inn and how Jackie had referred guests to her.
“Yes, congratulations, Abby. I was pleased to see we have another B and B in town. I’m surprised you didn’t have some kind of official grand opening, you know, to show the place off to the public. It’s such a lovely old home.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.” Abby made a mental note to remember this idea.
“So what’s your big insider tip?” Marsha leaned forward with a curious expression.
“Glen Hawley is a guest at my inn and—”
“Oh, isn’t he great? And so qualified, too. I think he’s a shoo-in.”
“Oh.” Abby frowned. Apparently she was too late.
“And that’s a problem?”
“Well”—Abby thought about her words—“I’m sure that Glen Hawley is putting his best foot forward for the interview process, but I’ve been around him a lot these past few days—you know, up close and personal—and I have to say that I’d be hugely disappointed if he gets hired to replace Cathy.”
“Why?”
So Abby carefully explained how rude he’d been, trying to avoid words like narcissistic and jerk, which wasn’t easy. “He just doesn’t seem like a Clifden sort of guy.”
“Really?” Marsha looked slightly skeptical.
“I wouldn’t make this up,” Abby said. “In fact, it’s not easy coming in here and saying this, Marsha. But I really think our city would be better served with someone else—someone a bit nicer, if you know what I mean. I hate to imagine how someone like Glen would run roughshod over everyone once he got in here. Really, his people skills, when his guard is down, are atrocious. You could even ask Caroline; she’s renting a room from me, and I’m afraid if he was around much longer, she’d move out. Or you could talk to Janie, although Janie, being an attorney, might not be willing to speak out.”
“So what exactly am I supposed to do with this information?”
“I don’t know.” Abby shrugged. “I figured you could put it to use.”
“Seriously, Abby, what am I supposed to say? That Glen Hawley doesn’t pick up his socks? That he steals complimentary toiletries? Or complains about breakfast? Maybe I should tell the committee that he doesn’t like that your inn because it has no ocean view, which is true—it doesn’t have a view.”
“I know that. But most people wouldn’t be so ill mannered about it.”
Marsha nodded.
“Have his references been checked?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe someone should probe a little deeper. Maybe there are folks in his town who’d be happy to spill the beans on Glen Hawley.”
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how we’d go about finding them.”
Abby held up her hands. “Well, all I can say is I tried, Marsha. Don’t come crying to me if you hire him and discover on down the line that he’s a total jerk.” Abby regretted this last bit, but there it was.
Marsha smiled. “I’ll keep what you said in mind. And if you come across something really useful, let me know. Otherwise, I think my hands are fairly tied.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s time to resume our interviews.”
Abby thanked her for listening, then left, but as she was going out, she ran into Glen Hawley. “Oh, hello,” he told her with a surprised expression.
“Hello, Mr. Hawley,” she said crisply.
He looked curiously at her, taking in her casual jeans and sweatshirt, as if trying to figure out why she’d be here at city hall.
“Just visiting with a friend,” she told him with a fixed smile. “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” he called as she continued on her way.
Back at the inn she found Mrs. Hawley comfortably settled in the living room with a thick paperback. Abby went into the room, taking her time to check the water level of the fresh flowers and straightening a stack of magazines. “I saw your husband at city hall,” she said casually. “He must be doing more interviews this afternoon.”
Mrs. Hawley smiled and nodded. “Yes. For a small town, they certainly do a lot of interviews.”
Abby knew that the Hawleys came from a town about ten times as large as Clifden. “I’m surprised that you and your husband want to relocate to such a small town,” she said as she fluffed a pillow.
“It’ll be something to get used to,” she admitted. “But so far I think it’s a charming town.”
“I’d think there might be a reduction in salary, too,” Abby pointed out.
“I don’t really know. Glen handles all that.” Mrs. Hawley smiled. “I just try to stay within the means of my household budget, and everyone is happy.”
“It must be hard to leave your friends behind.” Abby hoped her fishing wasn’t too obvious.
“Not as hard as you’d think.”
“I’m such a hometown girl. I’d hate to leave my friends and my house and everything.” Abby shook her head. “You’re a brave woman.”
“Oh, you get used to it after a while.”
“So you’ve made moves like this before?” Abby tried to appear impressed. “I’ll bet you get really good at it then. I’ve only moved once, and it was incredibly difficult.”
Mrs. Hawley talked about some of her packing techniques and tricks. “It’s a great way to keep from accumulating too much junk. I do a thorough clean-out every time we move.”
Abby asked about other towns that they’d lived in, reacting as if their lives were truly remarkable. As Mrs. Hawley listed off places, Abby noted them in her head. Then she looked at her watch. “Oh, dear, I nearly forgot that I have an appointment,” she said. “Please excuse me.” Then she hurried out to her car and, pulling out a notebook, wrote down the names of the cities that she could remember.
Once she got home, she did something that she knew could get her into trouble, but she just couldn’t help herself. She started calling up the various towns, saying in a roundabout way that she worked for the city of Clifden (and her rationale was that she was working for the city, just not getting paid for it, because she had the best interests of Clifden in mind). As she made inquiries about Glen Hawley’s previous employment history, she was pleased to find a few opinionated people who were willing to talk. Taking furious notes, she later condensed these into an interesting and informative document that she prepared to email to Marsha—but then she stopped herself. An email could come back to haunt her.
Instead, she reminded herself of Janie’s counsel and simply made an anonymous copy and dropped it by Marsha’s office. What Marsha did with this information was up to her. At least Abby had tried. Maybe, if this whole inn-keeping idea didn’t work out, Abby would become a detective. She’d heard about some female private eyes who were quite successful. Remembering how she and Marley had cracked the case against Caroline, helping to prove their friend’s innocence in regard to the house fire, Abby thought perhaps she was getting rather good at this.