She blinked when Morgan set a glass of champagne in front of her.
“Champagne?”
“You deserve it. Eighteen years,” he told Morgan. “Three kids, and our first solo getaway in sixteen years.”
“And now I feel like a princess. I know we’re supposed to dress up and have a fancy dinner, but, Charlie, I’m a wet noodle.”
“Right there with you. Is the food any good in here?” he asked Morgan.
“I can tell you it is. Why don’t you take a booth by the window. I’ll bring your drinks. Take a look at the menu, and if you decide to have dinner here, I’ll cancel your reservation for you.”
“That’s so nice.” Marie just sighed it out. “Everything and everybody’s just so nice. I love this place. Charlie, we owe my sister a great big bouquet for telling us about it.”
While Morgan took care of them, the Jamesons brought their empties to the bar and took stools.
“Another round. Heady Toppers.”
Morgan put the empties into the sink. “Cheese fries with that?”
Mick broke into a grin, and for an instant looked as young as his grandson. “My reputation precedes me. How about it, Liam? Split some, and don’t tell your grandmother.”
“You’re paying? It’s in the vault.”
She plugged the order in, began to draw the beer.
“I don’t know what you said to the couple over there.” Mick nodded in Charlie and Marie’s direction. “But it made them happy. That’s the goal here, make people happy.”
“Hot stone massages had already done that job. They made me want one of my own.” She served the beer, caught the signal Charlie sent her. “Excuse me a minute.” As she walked over, she waved the server over with her.
When she came back, she got out a champagne bucket.
“The Glade’s losing a reservation. Charlie and Marie are dining here: club sandwich for her, steak san for him—hold the onions because Charlie has plans.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she filled the bucket with ice. “They’re capping their first day of their first visit to the resort with a bottle of champagne. The good stuff.”
“Champagne’s on the house,” Mick told her.
“Oh, that’s—that’s great.”
“I’ll just go say hello while you get a bottle chilled. Don’t eat all the fries, Liam.”
“That’s all Mick,” Liam said, shaking his head.
She cashed out the corporate types, made a couple of dry martinis, watched Charlie and Marie clink glasses.
“You’ve got an easy way with a hard job,” Mick observed as he polished off his beer. “I appreciate what it takes to make a hard job look easy. Let’s mosey, partner.” He slapped Liam on the shoulder.
Mick slid three twenties onto the bar. “Keep it up.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jameson.”
“Mick. We’re family here.”
“You ski, Morgan?”
She shook her head at Liam.
“We’re going to fix that.”
“I don’t think so.”
“If it doesn’t involve skis or hiking boots or zip lines, this one doesn’t see the point.”
Mick gave her a wink before they moseyed.
* * *
It surprised her to find both her ladies waiting when she got home.
“What are the two of you doing up? It’s nearly two in the morning.”
“First day as manager. We made a pot of tea with our new Vermont tea.” Audrey poured a third cup. “Sit down, have some tea, and tell us how it went.”
“I had to talk her out of coming into the bar, so be glad it’s just tea in the middle of the night.”
Morgan took the tea, then dropped down in a chair near the still-simmering fire. “It went great. I had the meeting with Ms. Jameson—Lydia Jameson—then met with Drea and Nell. Drea said to tell you she misses you at yoga and hopes to make it Wednesday.”
“So do we. Did they like the idea about the specialty drinks, the seasonal ones?”
“I got the go-ahead to try it out. Then I met Mr. Jameson—Mick—and Liam in the bar. So that only leaves out the second generation—Rory Jameson—and the oldest of the siblings, third-generation Miles.”
“The family’s done a great deal for the area.” Olivia sipped her tea. “We get a lot of business—and so does the rest of downtown Westridge—from people staying at the resort.”
“They always have ideas to share. Like you.” Audrey toasted with her teacup. “I definitely think the tea’s going to be a hit.”