“Bad, boy,” she said, pushing away from him. “By far this is the best news I’ve heard in weeks. Reason to celebrate. I owe you big-time.”
“How about we celebrate together on Saturday evening at the jam session?”
After what Rowan James had just done for her there was no way she could say no.
“Okay. You’re on. Come over to my place around six and we’ll go together.”
“Baby, baby, baby, you know I’ll be there.”
Chapter 4
The first of Joya’s singles parties looked to be a huge hit when Emilie entered the lobby. There were wall-to-wall people. The noise level was deafening and the bar packed. Emilie had noticed how crowded the parking lot was when she’d pulled into the employee lot. Cars were double-and triple-parked.
Joya was to be credited for bringing in the business. As the resort’s in-house event planner, it had been her idea to partner with a party organizer. She’d negotiated a lucrative contract for at least half a dozen of these parties. The resort was also offering discounted rooms to those who hoped to get lucky.
Emilie was surprised Flamingo Beach had this many singles. She figured the advertisement must have gone out to the neighboring towns. It amazed her how much people were willing to pay for a social function with no guarantee of finding a soul mate. That reminded her it was high time she did something about finding her own Mr. Wonderful—someone with the potential to go somewhere.
As Emilie was about to slip into her office, a dark-skinned man in sunglasses stepped into her path, folding a business card into her palm.
“Hey, I’m Duncan,” he said. “I noticed you the moment you walked into the lobby.”
Emilie was so taken aback she stuttered, “Uh…I beg your pardon.”
“You’re here for the party, right?” He glanced at her ring finger and smiled. “The singles party?”
“Actually I’m not here for the event. I work here.”
“Too bad. Maybe you’ll change your mind and attend.”
“Some other time, perhaps.” Emilie smiled vacantly and attempted to slide by. A noticeably crestfallen Duncan slunk past her.
Duncan seemed pleasant enough but so not her type. The last thing she needed was to have it all over town that she attended a singles party at her work-place. It would surely scream “desperate” and get the tongues wagging even more.
Emilie entered her office and flipped on the light. Zoe was long gone, out of there on the dot of five. But Emilie had forgotten a folder she needed. She’d promised Tom Burke he’d have the room occupancy report on his desk first thing tomorrow and she planned on working at home. Hopefully business would pick up in the next two weeks. If not, it wouldn’t be for her lack of effort. Tom would be pleased with the signed six-month, two-hundred-room contract from Landsdale International but that still wasn’t enough.
Emilie grabbed the folder and left. As she was crossing the employee parking lot her cell phone jingled. She glanced at the screen, smiling as she recognized the number.
“Hey, Chere,” Emilie said, after pressing the receiver to her ear.
“Hey, girl, what’s the deal? I haven’t heard from you lately. You still interested in buying my husband’s condo?”
“Of course I am. I’ve just been crazy busy and haven’t had the time to do much about it. “
“Well, I’ve had an out-of-town offer so huge I’m going to have to talk to Quen about it. I thought maybe you’d want to counter.”
“How much are we talking about?”
Chere named a figure.
Emilie’s stomach plummeted. “Ouch! I can’t come even close to that. You’ll have to start shopping for something else in my price range.”
Just the thought of having to pack up and move made Emilie groan. Plus moving was expensive. She’d have to cough up first month’s rent, last and security. It would be a sizeable chunk and she’d have nothing to show for it afterward. Maybe she should try to rustle up the money for a down payment for a condo from somewhere.
Hardly good timing though, especially since she had no assurance she’d be in Flamingo Beach long-term. Tom’s instructions were clear: the hotel’s occupancy rate needed boosting or she would be out of a job, and therefore unable to pay a mortgage. She had to think about this.
“Emilie, you there?”
“I’m here. Just wondering how I can swing this.”
“Get creative, child. If this doesn’t work out I’ll find you something else. You know I got your back.”
By the time Emilie got to her rented condo in Flamingo Place her head was pounding. She had so much to think about. Quen’s two-bedroom apartment with the view of the bay suited her perfectly. Not often did you find a twelve-hundred-square-foot apartment in a gated community with really nice oak floors, and a fireplace that was seldom used. She used that fireplace to stash candles. The spacious balcony held a table and two lounge chairs where she liked to get sun.
Emilie’s cat, a rust-colored tabby she had rescused from a Dumpster, greeted her as she entered. She squatted down to pet the beast behind the ear.
“Did you have a good day, Big Red?”
The cat’s answering meow indicated she wanted her meal. Emilie kicked off her heels at the front door and went off to feed her. There would be no relaxing until Big Red had her dinner.
She changed her clothing and quickly heated up yesterday’s leftovers. Emilie gobbled her meal and booted up her laptop. For the next two hours she worked on spreadsheets, inputting numbers and deliberately ignoring the ringing phone.
Room occupancy was nowhere close to the winter months but it was slowly improving. By the time next month’s report was due she’d be darn close to meeting that sixty-five percent goal. Maybe she should jump on Joya’s suggestion and market to the travel-industry crowd.
Emilie sent off her report then continued typing as a myriad of ideas popped into her head. By the time she was through she had four pages of notes and had earned herself a glass of wine. Taking the wine and the Flamingo Beach Chronicle with her, she went out to the balcony.
A cool breeze blew off the water and the twinkling lights signified there were boats on the bay. It was a peaceful time of evening and one of the few times she relaxed. For the next hour Emilie read the paper from cover to cover. All of the news centered on the casino and Keith Lightfoot’s plans for a mega entertainment center. Already the Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort was being upstaged by a property that hadn’t yet been built. She had to be proactive.
The residents were doing something. Some had written letters to the editor about the type of clientele that gambling would attract. Others felt that the money and jobs that would be created were well worth the additional traffic. One concerned citizen addressed the rumor that Mayor Rabinowitz was getting kickbacks to make the casino happen. The editor didn’t seem to want to touch that and the citizen was quickly squashed.
Emilie figured she had six months before she would seriously worry. In that time a lot could happen. The Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort was already up and running, and that in and of itself gave her an advantage. It was up to her to make it the “it” place to be.
She made a mental note to meet with Owen Schwartz, the hotel’s general manager, in the next few days. No point in selling rooms if their service wasn’t top notch. They needed to make a concerted effort to get the hotel there, and that might mean training employees or replacing a few. She needed his buy in