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“I see what you mean about the different architectural details,” Worth says, taking in the wooden doorframes and the intricate architraves.

“The building was constructed in 1881, so it’s one of the older buildings in New York.”

“We could lean into that in the design though,” Poppy says. “We can still make it cool. It’s not like Hotel on Ninth Street is a slave to the Art Deco age.”

“I’m sure the designer can come up with something,” Worth says, who won’t be focused on what the place looks like.

“But we need to make sure that there’s a consistent story between the two hotels,” I say.

“Right, but it’s not like you’re going to find an Art Deco hotel in Boston,” Poppy says. “So we’d have the same problem there. The building we liked there was Victorian, wasn’t it?”

I hate how she refers to the Boston building in the past tense, like it’s over and done with and now we’ve all moved on to New York.

“I guess.”

“We could have Art Deco features added, couldn’t we?” Worth asks.

Poppy and I stay silent, because adding Art Deco details to a Victorian building is a stupid idea, but neither of us want to embarrass Worth.

He stares at us, waiting for an answer.

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug.

“Maybe?” he asks. “What does that mean?”

“I think we should lean into the period of the building—Victorian,” I say. “Same for Boston.”

“What does lean in mean?” Worth asks.

“And I’m the one without a college degree?” I ask.

“Help me see it, Avril,” he says, his tone shifting to the one that says quit being sassy.

I sigh and turn around, taking it in properly. “Lots of forest greens and berry reds. Oak reception desks with brass lamps.” I pull in a breath. “But we don’t want to go too dark, so the walls should be…I think stone with murals, maybe.”

“Murals?” Poppy and Worth exclaim in unison.

“Hand-painted.” I gesture over to the east wall. “You could have a wisteria painted over here that would stretch across the back of the reception desks.”

“That would be very pretty.”

“You could solve the problem with the uniformity of the rooms that way,” Poppy says. “By having hand-painted murals in the rooms.”

“Sounds expensive,” Worth murmurs.

But I try and work through the idea in my head. “It doesn’t have to be. We can get art students to do it. And we don’t have to do it in the entire bedroom—or maybe we do the suites. In the standard rooms, we could just do it in the bathrooms. Or the hallways. No, the hallways have too much traffic. But we could find a way of incorporating it into the rooms without it being too costly.”

I hate it, but Poppy’s right. It would be a good idea for putting our stamp on the hotel and making it stand out from the midtown competition. It wouldn’t be Art Deco but it would be design led.

“Maybe you could name the rooms too,” Worth says. “Like the Pelican Room and the Elephant Room.”

“Except we will never name our rooms after animals,” I reply.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Poppy says.

I snap my head around to see if she’s joking. “A pelican room?”

“Well, not the animal names, but to name the room rather than just have a number. It makes it feel more personal.”