delivery error this morning,” Roman said. “One of the housekeeping staff dropped off a basket of fruits to the wrong room, so now our couple in suite four oh two is, well, fruitless.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Fruitless? Can’t we make it up to them with something else? I hardly think a fruit basket is enough to raise this level of concern, you guys.” I strode forward and flipped open the powder-pink folio. My heart sank. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “The basket was for Mr. and Mrs. Delacroix.”
“Shit.”
Ginny looked back and forth between us and began speaking hurriedly to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “You’re sure? You have nothing we can use? I’ll take anything.” There was a pause. “Okay, thank you. We’ll figure it out.”
Ginny hung up the phone and looked at me hopelessly. “None of the restaurants have spares we can use. What should we do?”
Roman scoffed. “Well, I don’t propose we tell the Delacroixs that other guests received their fruit basket. It’s trivial, but—”
“They’ll care,” I finished for him.
The Delacroix couple had been a thorn in our sides for the past eight months leading up to their wedding and honeymoon. They’d visited the hotel three times before concluding that yes, they wanted to honeymoon there, and no, they wouldn’t settle for anything less than the diamond suite. They added special services like a personal butler and a couple’s massage on their patio from a specialty masseuse who didn’t even work at the El Cartana.
They would settle for nothing less than exactly what they’d requested. I’d been so thorough with them that there was no excuse not to be prepared.
“I have to go into the market then,” I said finally. It was the only solution. If the hotel didn’t have what we needed for the clients, then I was going to have to get it myself. “See if you can stall them a bit. Their spa appointments are done at what time this morning?”
“Eleven,” Roman said.
I glanced at the clock on the wall above my storage units. It was eight thirty. “That’s more than enough time for me to go to the market and get back. If I’m not here by quarter to eleven, go down to the spa and add a specialty service. Make sure it isn’t one they have planned for the rest of their week here. We can’t risk an oversight like that. Sound good?”
Ginny nodded. “Got it.”
“What’s our worst-case-scenario plan?” Roman asked.
I appreciated this about him. He never wanted things to go badly, but he was prepared to handle them if they did.
I moved toward the door. “Worst case, I can’t get any fruit at the market and we’re not going to have anything for them…” I trailed off, considering what the best way to make amends would be for a couple who had everything and anything. “Dinner on the beach.”
“Sorry?” Roman asked.
I nodded, positive that this would work as a last-minute solution. “If we can’t make this happen, offer them a romantic dinner on the beach and make sure they know we’ve never done this for anyone before. Tell them they’ll have their own personal server, a free bottle of wine or champagne, whichever they prefer, and a three-course meal.”
Roman arched an eyebrow. “Have you seen Mrs. Delacroix? She’s a three-course meal all to herself.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “And if that doesn’t work?”
Roman frowned, obviously dejected that nobody was pausing to humor him. “Guys?”
“Shut up, Roman,” Ginny said sharply.
He shot her a dark look. “I was just saying. She doesn’t need more fruit anyway. What that woman needs is water and sunscreen. I swear, if she’d give me two minutes with her, I could show her how to—”
“Shut up, Roman,” Ginny and I barked.
Ginny turned back to me. “And if the dinner doesn’t appease them?”
I shrugged. “Then we hope and pray they don’t lose their damn minds. You never know with the supremely wealthy if they’re going to have a tantrum or carry on with their day. It’s best to err on the side of caution.”
Roman smirked. “If the Mrs. has a tantrum, she’ll start a damn earthquake.”
“Oh my God, Roman,” Ginny hissed. “You’re so rude!”
“What?”
“She’s not that bad,” Ginny said in defense of the most high-maintenance guest I’d had in my entire career. “She’s voluptuous.”
Roman laughed. “That’s a generous way of saying she’s as fat as her bank account.”
Ginny shook her head and buried her face in her hand. “You’re going to get yourself in