And she badly wanted to show the courage he seemed to think she possessed.
“I think I like what you’ve done with this menu. I think that once things have settled down, I’d like to explore being more creative with our dining options.”
“Good. If you want to toss around a few ideas, I’m a good listener.”
Hattie felt a flicker of excitement. It was slowly dawning on her that she could do whatever she liked. Make whatever decision she wanted to make. No one was going to stop her or tell her they had a better idea. It was both freeing and scary. The responsibility for success or failure was all hers.
She looked from the menu to Erica. “You were on your way out the door. Why are you helping me?”
“You look like someone who could use some help, so let’s start with that as a reason and tackle the rest later.” Erica tidied up the paper stacked by the printer. “We need to get this menu to Claudia for approval and then print them. After that, you can tell me what else needs to be done and we can throw around some ideas if that’s helpful. Do you want me to take her the menu?”
Hattie had no idea what Erica did for a living, but she was willing to bet she was good at it.
“Thank you, but I’ll do it. I should probably check on things.”
She headed to the kitchen. No matter how good Claudia was, the staff had been unsettled to have lost Chef Tucker and were probably upset by all the conflict and concerned for the future.
Braced to give another motivational speech, she pushed open the doors of the kitchen and stepped inside.
She felt the energy instantly. Everyone was busy, food was being prepared, the smells so delicious that for a moment she wished she were a guest and not the owner. And in the middle of it all was Claudia, who appeared to be everywhere at once, encouraging, demonstrating, praising and smiling.
Hattie felt a sudden burst of optimism. The ball of tension in her stomach eased.
Claudia noticed her and strode across the kitchen. “Are those our menus?”
Hattie liked her use of the word our. With Chef Tucker and Stephanie every conversation had been dominated by I. I need this. I want this.
“Yes. Erica has done a great job.”
“No surprise there.” Claudia took the menu and scanned it, checking for mistakes. “All looks good. Winter Warmer. I love it. Are you fine with all the menu changes?”
Hattie realized she’d barely looked at the content. “You’re the one in charge of that. If you think it works, then it will work.”
Claudia gave her a curious look. “Right. Good. It’s going to work, trust me.” She handed the menu back. “Erica can print these up for the tables and I’ll get back to work.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Hattie touched her arm. “You’ve saved the day.”
Just this one day, but it was a start.
“You’re the one who saved the day.” Claudia patted Hattie’s hand. “You got rid of Stephanie, and you trusted a stranger in your kitchen. Big decisions, but good ones. You need to have more faith in yourself. You’ve got this.”
Was that true?
For the first time since Brent had died Hattie felt that maybe, just maybe, she did have this. She just needed to believe in herself and stop listening to the negative voice in her head.
SEVENTEEN
Erica
Erica stood outside the door to Hattie’s private rooms.
She rarely felt awkward in situations, but she wondered now if that was because she avoided situations that made her feel awkward. She stayed in her comfort zone. But didn’t everyone, up to a point?
Having printed the menus, placed them on tables in the restaurant and checked on Anna, she’d contemplated returning to her room. But somehow, here she was, outside Hattie’s door.
Maybe this was a bad time. Anna had always hated being called in the middle of bath time when the twins were little. Erica glanced at her watch. Was this bath time? She had no idea. She wasn’t only outside her comfort zone, she was also outside her zone of expertise.
She knocked and waited.
There was no response, or sounds of movement, and she was about to walk away—at least no one would be able to say she hadn’t tried—when the door opened.
Hattie stood there. Her hair was loose over her shoulders and in her hand was a children’s book. She looked soft and maternal and more assured than earlier in the day facing Stephanie.
“I’m disturbing you.” Erica backed away, but Hattie shook her head and opened the door wider.
“No, you’re not. I finished the story half an hour ago, but it took a while for her to go to sleep. Too much excitement today. Come on in.”
Left with no choice, Erica stepped over the threshold.
“This is where the innkeeper lives.” Hattie led her into the living room. “We have two bedrooms, this room and a small kitchen. We’re a little cramped for space, but it’s cozy.”
It was cozy. The sofa was stacked with cushions, and a soft mohair throw was folded over one of the arms. The coffee table was reclaimed wood, and a vase of eucalyptus sat in the center. Everywhere she looked there were signs of Delphi. Coloring books, a child’s picture of a house in the country complete with snowman. A pair of tiny shoes peeped from under the sofa, and on the table were the remains of a glass of milk and half a cookie. On almost every surface there were photographs of Brent. On his own, looking windblown and handsome on a ski slope. Swinging Delphi above his head. Smiling with his arms wrapped around both Delphi and Hattie. Action man. Family man. The many facets of Brent.
Erica stared at those photos. Growing up, her father hadn’t had a presence. Her mother never talked about him. There were no physical reminders. It was as if he’d been deleted from their lives.
That wasn’t the case here. Brent still had a place in Hattie and Delphi’s life.
She pushed down emotion that she didn’t entirely understand. “It’s a beautiful room.”
“Thank you.” Hattie lifted an armful of clean laundry from one of the sofas and put it on the table. Then she gathered up two soft toys and a plastic dinosaur. “Sit down wherever you can find room. Check you’re not sitting on a toy or anything squishy first.”
Erica settled herself in the armchair. “You were probably looking forward to a few hours off.”
“I don’t know what that is.” Hattie scooped up two paintings and rescued a crayon from the floor. “My priority is always to put Delphi to bed and spend that time with her, and I’ve done that so I’m happy.”
“I thought, maybe, we could have that conversation we should have had earlier.”
Hattie added the crayon to the stack on the table. “I’d like that. Can I get you anything? A drink?”
“I’m fine, but thank you.” Erica kept her hands clasped in her lap. She had no idea how to start the conversation. “You probably—”
“Mommy!” Delphi appeared in the doorway. Cheerful robins danced across her pajamas and she had her dinosaur tucked under her arm. “I can’t sleep.”
Hattie put her glass down and went to her daughter. “That’s because you’re standing in our living room. To sleep you have to be in your bed. I’ll take you back.” She scooped up the child and Delphi buried her head in her shoulder.