New Hampshire, December 2005
Opportunity, her father had said. More like banishment,
Hadley thought, as she swung into a curve on the narrow
road that threaded through the White Mountains of New
Hampshire. From vice president of one of the most high
profile divisions at Stone to triage specialist for an
antiquated hotel out in the sticks with the squirrels and
chipmunks. Forget the flights to Zurich, Cape Town and
BuenosAires. Now it was Montpelier,Vermont, which was
still nearly an hour and a half from the hotel. No direct
flights there, of course, which had meant cooling her
heels in Boston while she'd waited for a connection on
some crop duster.
After all, demoted V.P.s didn't rate the corporate jet.
Her cell phone rang and she answered it absently. "Hello?"
"Good morning, sweetheart," said a voice filled with
perfume and gardenias and air kisses.
"Hello, Mother."
"Can you stop by the house before you leave so we can talk
about the holidays?"
Hadley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Too late. I'm
already here."
"The wilds of Maine?"
"New Hampshire."
"Ah. And how is New Hampshire?"
"Cold," she answered. "Lots of trees and snow."
"Sounds wonderfully rustic. Your father seems to think
you'll be gone for a while. At least through the holidays."
Nice that he had such faith in her. "We'll see how it
goes. I should be able to take a day or two over
Christmas, anyway."
"Actually, that was why I called." Irene hesitated. "You
see, we're going to Gstaad over the holidays. The twins
are mad for the idea."
Eight hours of flying each way, not counting time spent on
the ground. "Sounds great," Hadley said slowly, "but I
don't think I can take that much time off right now. Any
chance of going after Christmas?"
"Well, the twins really want to be there for the holiday.
A bunch of their friends are planning a big party and they
don't want to miss it." Hadley could imagine the spark in
her mother's eyes on the other end of the phone. "And next
year the girls will be in their debutante season, so we
can't possibly go then. This is really our only chance."
Debutante season? "Sure, the debutante season," Hadley
said, biting back a sigh. "No problem."
"Oh, and if you're trying to think of something to get
them, they've been absolutely crazed for those new Louis
Vuitton bags, the ones with the cherries."
Hadley looked at the pine covered mountains around
her. "I'll see what I can come up with."
"Wonderful. Anyway, I should let you go — I know you're
busy. I'll call you before we leave."
"All right. Love you, Mom."
"Love you, too, dear."
And the line went silent, leaving Hadley with another
unsettling reminder that when it came to the Stone girls,
there were her mother's twins and her father's daughter.
They shared the same wheat-colored hair and gray eyes, the
same delicate features that Hadley often thought put her
at a disadvantage in business. They'd grown up in the same
household.
And yet not. Robert had taken command of Hadley's life
early. Perhaps it was only human nature that when Irene
Stone finally gave birth to the twins, she'd made them
hers. It became more apparent each time Hadley saw them
that her mother and the twins inhabited an entirely
different world than the one she lived in. Theirs revolved
around shopping and hairstyles and parties, all the things
Hadley had never had time for. All the things her mother
loved.
And every time she talked with her mother, that world
seemed farther and farther away.
Enough! It wasn't a crisis. They had plans for Christmas
and she was a grown woman with a job to get done.
Checking her directions, she turned onto the highway that
led to the hotel — if you could call the pockmarked
asphalt that threaded through even denser forest a highway.
She could tell the first problem with the Hotel Mount
Jefferson sight unseen — location. Skiers and hikers, the
people most likely to go to the mountains for recreation,
were not the kinds of people to pay a bundle for a
glorified bed-and-breakfast. They were far more likely to
camp out or, if they had the kind of money that the hotel
hoped to attract, choose the stylish condos she'd passed a
couple of miles back. How, then, was she supposed to meet
her father's astronomical expectations?
Hadley's hands tightened on the wheel. Instead of running
a division with seven locations, three business units and
a head count of more than two thousand, she was now
responsible for turning around a superannuated hotel with
a few hundred employees, most of whom were probably
missing teeth.
Evaluate, set a strategy and implement it, her father had
directed her. Double the profit margin within six months,
quadruple it within twelve.
If she had any sense, she'd tell him to go jump in a lake.
After all, she had choices. She could update her résumé
and shop it around. But who out there would hire her
without worrying she was a mole for Stone Enterprises? And
Robert Stone was a jealous god. When you left his world,
he made sure the departure was permanent — home would be
home to her no longer. Did she want that? Could she give
that up?
Hadley sighed. She didn't want to be in this car, on this
road, heading for oblivion. But she didn't really have a
choice, not when she thought about it. No, her only real
option was to do the job, give Robert what he wanted. So
she kept driving to the Hotel Mount Jefferson, a place in
all likelihood few people other than the misbegotten souls
who worked there cared about, she was sure.
Misbegotten souls who were about to get a big surprise.
"You're kidding." Gabriel Trask stared at Mona Landry, his
head of housekeeping. "No water in the entire laundry
room?"
The stout woman glowered. "Burst pipe. Apparently laundry
wasn't a priority when they redid the plumbing last
spring."
"Burke?" Gabe turned to his head of facilities.
He spread his hands. "We only have so many months to work
with. Guests come first. I was planning to run new pipe
out to the facilities building this spring."
"And what are the guests going to say when they don't have
any clean sheets or towels?" Mona asked tartly.
"Mona." Gabe raised his hand. "We've got a problem to
address. Let's fix it. Burke, have you isolated the break?"
"I've dug a couple of sample holes. As near as I can tell,
the pipe out to the laundry plant is split. Frost heaves."
"As near as you can tell?"
"We're still trying to dig down to it."
Gabe frowned. "It shouldn't be that hard."
"Frozen ground. Winter staffing levels. Plus it's ten
degrees out there and dropping. We can only keep the guys
outside for short stretches."
Gabe nodded. If he cursed a blue streak in his head, it
was nobody's business but his own. "How long?"
"We're working on it. No later than tomorrow afternoon.
I'd like to repair the whole line while we're at it.
Otherwise, it's just a matter of time until this happens
again."
Not what Gabe wanted to hear at the start of a heavily
booked weekend. "Mona, how's our linen supply look?"
"Enough for today and maybe half of the rooms tomorrow.
After that..." She shrugged. "I keep telling you we need
more."
New linens, new plumbing, new pillars to replace the
rotting ones on the west porch, new carpeting in the
ballroom.
Old budget. When his coal-dark hair eventually turned
gray, he'd know where to place the blame. Gabe suppressed
a sigh. "All right, we go to the laundry in Montpelier.
Mona, get the number from Susan. One of the grounds guys
can truck it over."
"Not if you want that trench dug," Burke reminded him.
Gabe closed his eyes a second. "Right. Okay, find a
bellhop but get on it now. We need the laundry to turn the
job around by the end of the day." Pulling from the bell
staff would leave them short up front during checkout, but
they'd manage.
If necessary, he'd drive the damn truck himself. * * *
Trees, unending trees. Hadley yawned. No wonder she was in
a bad mood. Taking the morning flight out had sounded good
when she'd bought the ticket. It had only been when the
alarm sounded at five that she'd realized she'd been out
of her mind to book it. When she got to the hotel she
could give them their first test — how they dealt with
grumpy early arrivals.
She swung the sporty little rental car into another curve,
and the line of trees fell away, revealing the valley
ahead.
And her jaw dropped.
The Hotel Mount Jefferson perched on the hillside like a
white castle, a sprawling fantasy of turrets and porticos.
The roof glowed red under the rays of the winter sun.
Flags atop the towers snapped in the breeze. Hadley could
practically see women in pale Victorian gowns and parasols
promenading along the veranda that ran the length of the
building. A snow-covered hillside rolled away from the
hotel. It would be green in summer, she thought, green and
magical.
The pictures hadn't done it justice. She'd done her
homework, of course. She knew the financials by heart,
understood that it wasn't just a little mountain lodge.
But she hadn't been at all prepared for a place that
looked as though stepping through the doors would be to
walk back in time. For a place that instantly made her
think of ball gowns and afternoon teas, of hot toddies
sipped by a roaring fire.
She hadn't been prepared to be enchanted.
This isn't about enchantment, she could practically hear
Robert saying. It's about business.
And with that the enchantment dropped away. How did they
heat that many rooms, no doubt drafty after withstanding
nearly a hundred winters? Radiators, probably. Radiators
installed by Civil War veterans. How often did the
radiators break down? Hadley sighed. However enchanting
the hotel was on the outside, she had to meet her numbers
or else she'd be in exile a whole lot longer than she'd
like. And even enchantment got old.
She considered her strategy. Come in like an ordinary
guest and spend the weekend looking for ways to economize,
ways to increase occupancy. Shameless romance was one
angle to play, she mused as she drove past the white,
Victorian-style lampposts that marched up the access road
to the hotel. Hopefully, they had an in-house consultant
for that part, because that one she was going to have to
delegate.
At the pillared portico of the hotel, Hadley paused for a
moment. Up close, the Hotel Mount Jefferson was all her
first glimpse had promised. The front facade of the
building gleamed with broad windows. Marble steps led up
to a green-carpeted porch where a small fleet of shiny
brass luggage racks held the bags of departing guests. To
one side sat an antique sleigh, painted gleaming red.
Christmas was drawing near and whoever ran the place was
laying it on just right, she admitted.
The valet opened her door. "Welcome to the Hotel Mount
Jefferson. May I get your bags?"
"In the trunk."
"Very good." He passed her a green ticket in trade for her
keys. "If you'll just call this number when you get to
your room, we'll have your bags brought right up for you."
Hadley walked up the steps and over to the sleigh. The cut
glass lamps reflected the daylight, the brass fittings
gleamed. Someone at the hotel paid attention to detail,
she thought, tracing the graceful curve of the front
panel. Someone knew the little things counted.
A smiling doorman in a caped greatcoat opened the wide
white front door with its curling brass handles. "Welcome,
miss," he said, tipping his cap. Hadley stepped through
the door and straight back to the turn of the previous
century.
For a moment, she simply stopped and stared, carried back
to a time when the world was a slower, more graceful
place. Nineteen oh three, or so her research said. From
where she stood, the lobby seemed to stretch the entire
length of the east wing of the building, all space and
light, airy and open. Ornate white pillars soared to the
coffered ceiling twenty feet overhead, their inset panels
gleaming with gold luster, capitals at the top curling
elegantly. Overhead, bronze-and-crystal chandeliers threw
a warm glow that competed with the sunlight spilling in
the enormous picture windows.