A familiar footfall sounded in the hallway. Martin appeared at the doorway of the room. He took in the equipment and gave a low, impressed nod.
"You've outdone yourself, Linda," Martin remarked.
"Brock and Stuart did most of it," Linda replied, honestly.
“It’s looking good, and I’m sure George is going to be pleased.” Martin glanced at the two nurses. "I'm sorry to steal her, gentlemen, but I need to talk to Linda for a few minutes."
"Of course," Stuart agreed. "We're nearly done here. We'll finish up and head out within the hour."
"Are you sure I can't help with the last bit?" Linda asked.
"You go," Brock told her warmly. "We've got this. We'll let ourselves out the side gate when we leave."
"Thank you, both.” Linda turned and followed Martin out of the therapy room, back through the sun lounge. The look on his face had shifted from approving to careful. Linda's heart gave a small, uncomfortable squeeze. She knew that look. She'd been hoping not to see it for at least a few days.
"What is it, Martin?" Linda asked.
"Let's go over to the office," Martin suggested. "I'd rather show you on the screen than read it out."
She nodded, and they crossed the side garden together, letting themselves into the staff entrance at the back of Hearts Hotel. The small back corridor was quiet. The office, which had been Uncle George's for forty years, was now Linda’s in everything but the nameplate on the door. The room was warm with the late-morning sun. After they stepped inside, Linda closed the door behind them.
"This is bad news, isn’t it?" Linda watched his expression closely, as she sat down at the desk.
Martin pulled the other chair around so he could sit beside her rather than across from her. He put his laptop on the desk, then turned it toward both of them, opening the hotel's management email, and clicked through to a thread he had clearly already organized.
"This is the chain so far," Martin began. "First, the letter we sent in response to the aggressive one that came by courier. I scanned it and attached it to the email chain.”
He clicked it open.
Linda read it again, even though she had read it five times when they had drafted it three days ago. The response had been brief and courteous. They had thanked Mr. Wayne for his interest, then politely informed him that Hearts Hotel was not for sale. It had been in the Heart family for three generations, and there was no current consideration of any kind for a transfer of ownership. They had requested that no further correspondence on the matter be sent. They had signed it from Miss L. Heart, on behalf of the family, with Martin copied in as the hotel's accountant.
"And here's the response that came in this morning," Martin continued.
He clicked.
Linda read.
Dear Miss Heart,
Thank you for your prompt reply. We respect the family's position and have noted it carefully. However, given the substantial nature of our standing offer and the equally substantial financial considerations associated with HeartsHotel's current trajectory, we would very much like the opportunity to meet with you and Mr. Hale in person before any final decision is made on either side. A brief meeting at your earliest convenience would give us the chance to present our offer in full, answer any questions you may have, and clarify our intentions for the property and the surrounding community.
We assure you that we have no wish to apply pressure, and we would prefer this conversation to take place on cordial terms. A face-to-face meeting frequently resolves misunderstandings that letters cannot.
Please advise a date and time that suits you both within the next 10 days. We are prepared to meet in Sweet Blossom Bay at your convenience.
Yours sincerely,
Mr. D. Wayne,
Wayne Group International.
Linda pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Didn't we just tell him we're not interested in selling?" Linda asked, impatience resonating in her voice.
"We did," Martin confirmed.
"That's not what I'd call respecting our position," Linda observed.
