details about the staff he was handing over. And, since Stephen had discovered early on that knowing his employees’ names and snippets of personal detail from their lives smoothed the transition of ownership more than anything else he could do, he resigned himself to accommodating Master as he sang his swan song.
Besides, at the end of the day, it was all about efficiency.
Efficiency, profits, and besting the competition.
A lifetime spent within the cutthroat Whitfield empire might not have provided much in the way of familial support and approval, but it had taught him how to run a hotel. Somehow he knew that if he resisted Masters, the transition would be delayed.
So he flipped through the pages of housekeeping employees while Masters offered commentary on each, noting who’d been in service the longest, who were the newest hires, who had children in college, spouses struggling with cancer, or had just given birth to new babies. And then they moved on to the pastry shop, restaurant and dining staff. Halfway through, Stephen’s entire body froze as stunned recognition winnowed through him.
“Colette Huntington. Now there’s a pastry chef you won’t regret having on staff,” said Masters, sounding like a proud patriarch touting the accomplishment of a favored daughter. “You give that girl a bit of butter, cream and flour, and she can work magic. No lie. I credit her desserts with half our return business.”
“Yes,” he murmured, while struggling to keep his reaction in check. “Good chefs will do that.”
“Colette’s not just a good chef. She’s smart, hardworking, and the staff adores her.”
Deep down, Stephen supposed he’d always suspected he’d run into her again. There were only so many hotels, so many decent pastry chefs, in the world. They were bound to intersect at some point. But he was careful to register none of his shock, cocking a head toward her file as if she were just another random name in the pile. “How long has she been with the Renaissance?”
“Going on four years now. She trained at Cordon Bleu, but had a devil of a time finding a job overseas.”
Is that what she told you? A rush of annoyance, tinged with an odd twinge of smarting pride, cinched low in his gut. “You hired her without experience?”
“I saw her potential and took a risk. Turned out to be one of the best decisions I made.” He leaned to squint fondly at her photo and shook his head. “Even though things didn’t work out for her in London, poor girl, her heartbreak was definitely our gain.”
Heartbreak?
“You’ll like her,” Masters continued as he straightened. “Everyone does. And the best part is she doesn’t engage in the typical drama of a service industry. She’s private, reliable, and loyal to a fault.”
Hearing her described in such glowing terms, terms he might have once used himself, dredged up memories he’d discarded years ago. Memories he’d buried beneath layers of regret, resentment, and wounded pride. Memories he had no interest in revisiting. He didn’t want to think about her. She didn’t deserve another minute of his mental energies. She’d made a fool of him, made him feel when he’d vowed to avoid emotional connections. And then she’d left him.
Even so, Stephen couldn’t restrain the beat of curiosity that made his muscles tense and quickened his pulse. He leaned forward to scan her file, and his focus caught on the grainy colored photo at its upper left corner. She didn’t look much different than she had in London, despite the poor quality of the copy. She still had the same hazel eyes, honey-blond hair and fresh, freckled face. His fingers itched to trace the soft lines of her image, as if to recall the texture of her skin and hair, and he knotted his hand into a fist, irritated with his reaction. “She’s married, I take it?”
Masters’ face pleated in a grin. “Why? You interested?”
“Of course not,” he answered while he forced his hand to relax atop his thigh. He was over her. Had been for a long time. “It just helps to know who might be dating within the ranks.”
“Oh, Colette’s not like that. She never mixes business and pleasure.”
Except she had. With him. “Tell me about this Henri person,” Stephen said, flipping to the next file in an attempt to put Colette out of his mind. He had no interest in ferreting out her secrets anymore. She was merely one of the employees he’d acquired in a business transaction. End of story.
She no longer had the power