Chapter 25
The doorman dressed in a black suit at the Ainsworth Hotel opened the glass door for Holly. She smiled her thanks and walked into the lobby.
They designed the hotels much the same all over the world. Black and white marble floors, huge crystal chandeliers and glass pendant lights hanging over the gold trimmed reception desk. Elaborate and fresh floral arrangements filled every corner of the room. The scent of exotic flowers floating through the air.
Holly made her way to the restaurant.
“I’m sorry Miss, I can’t let you into our dining room.” The stiff maître d stood in front of his podium looking down at Holly with flared nostrils like she stank. Or probably because she wore jeans and a t-shirt. Not the evening clothes required in the dining room. Already jittery from her run-in with Oliver, the last thing she needed to deal with was pompous restaurant staff.
God, how did she survive all those years living with people like him? “My parents are in there. They’re expecting me.”
One eyebrow rose in a perfect arc. She bet they were professionally threaded and tinted. “I highly doubt that.”
She hated playing the name card. It was times like these she had no other choice. “I’m Holly Ainsworth. I’m meeting my parents Richard and PenelopeAinsworth.”
This time he laughed. Not a normal open mouth kind of thing, but with a controlled tight lip. The sound, weird and annoying. She wanted to get dinner over with but this stuck-up jerk was stopping her.
Digging into her bag, she took out her wallet and pulled out her driver’s license, slapping it on the top of the podium. “Ainsworth.” She tapped a finger on the name on the plastic card so he wouldn’t miss anything.
The maître d’s face grew bright red. “Ms Ainsworth, I apologise for the misunderstanding. I didn’t know—”
“Just let me pass.” She couldn’t stand listening to his blubbering apology. “My father will hear about this.” Then she watched his face drain of colour until she thought he’d faint. Two minutes back in this world and she was acting like a rich bitch. She wanted to kick her own arse. “Forget I said that… your job’s safe.”
“Thank you, Ms Ainsworth. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Can you let me pass?” she asked.
“Oh yes, certainly.” He waved his arm and bowed so low like she was royalty.
Once inside the dining room, it didn’t take long to spot her parents. A swarm of waiters surrounded their table ready to kiss their feet. Holly rolled her eyes and nerves flicked in her belly as she approached. This was the first time she’d seen them in nearly six months.
“Hi Dad. Mum,” she greeted them with what she hoped was a friendly smile.
“Holly, honey. It’s good to see you.” Her father rose and gave her a warm hug. Surprised by the show of affection, she stood still for a beat. Then wrapped her arms around his waist. She breathed in the familiar scent of his sandalwood cologne; she’d missed him. Pulling back, she took him in. His thick salt and pepper hair was receding and he wore frameless glasses—a few more lines creased the side of his eyes. The charcoal grey Armani suit fit perfectly on his tall solid frame. In his sixties, her father was still an attractive man.
Stepping away from her father, she turned to her mother who remained seated. Her sharp white bob framed her flawless smooth complexion. Light brown eyes, much like her own showed no softness or pleasure in seeing her daughter after so long. She sat ramrod straight in her chair no doubt so she wouldn’t crease the cream Chanel jacket she wore over a pale pink dress. A string of pearls hung around her neck. Holly leaned down and kissed her on her powdered cheek. Then her mother gave her a thorough examination from her head to her black boot covered toes. You didn’t turn up to an Ainsworth dinner dressed in ripped jeans and denim jacket. Her mother’s nostrils flared just like the maître d’s. Holly was tempted to sniff under her armpits in case she really did smell.
“What on earth are you wearing? I’m surprised Leonardo let you in here.” She searched the front of the restaurant for the maître d like she wanted to chastise him.
“Good to see you too, Mother. And Leonardo did his best to send me away.”
The poor man was probably lying down somewhere after the shock she’d given him.
Before her mother could complain further, three waiters wearing starched white shirts, cotton gloves, and black trousers—the creases down the centre of their pants sharp enough to cut someone—placed massive silver plates in front of them. Four prawns drizzled with salmon roe sat on a bed of green leaves and decorated with edible flowers. Holly could’ve done with a meat pie or toasted sandwich. It would be more filling and tastier. Did Ethan enjoy this more? Had he finally seen how good normal food was? Or did he only pretend to like it to make her happy?
It took all of three seconds to eat the tiny meal. She passed on the edible flowers. The waiters materialised from thin air to remove their plates. Did they really need a waiter for each person?
Her mother dabbed the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin then placed it on her lap. “Holly, it’s time you came home.”
Holly sighed. For once it would’ve been nice for her mother to inquire about her wellbeing. Ask if she enjoyed living in Sydney or maybe even tell her she was missed her. Normal conversation between mother and daughter.
Because Holly knew her mother so well, that would never happen. And she knew this wasn’tjusta visitwhile they were in town. They’d come to Sydney for one reason, to bring Holly home.
“Did you get my email about me wanting to stay here for another twelve months?”
The waiters placed another course before them. Quail with shitake mushrooms and a dab of polenta. Not much bigger than the last meal. Luckily, Holly had lost her appetite the second she’d entered the dining room.
“We’ve let you get this nonsense out of your system long enough. You need to be where you belong, working for the company,” her mother said.
