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I suffer her kiss hello, and a hug that makes me want to shake her loose. I wait for Winter and her to greet each other, ensuring my sister doesn’t insult her again.
The layout of this suite is very similar to mine. Ours. It’s too big for Dad, but even when he retires he plans to keep this as his exclusive residence. It’s still his favorite hotel, plus his family is nearby.
We move through to the kitchen, the cabinets hand-crafted and painted in sage green. Brecken and Winter place the boxes of cake on the kitchen table, while Sienna grabs side plates and cake forks.
“Nice purse,” Winter tells Sienna, nodding towards a Coach tote slung over the back of a chair.
“Thanks.”
“It looks like it can hold a ton of stuff.”
“Yeah,” Sienna answers. “It can.”
I throw a confused look at Brecken. He’s frowning at Sienna as she lays out the forks.
Smiling, Winter takes a moment to look around, drawn to some framed photographs on a wooden dresser. “Can I take a look?” she asks Dad.
“Go ahead,” he encourages, following her over.
I decide to join them, casting a look over the twenty or so frames out on display. Many of them are of Brecken and me at a younger age. One by one Winter picks them up, oohing and chuckling at how cute or adorable we are.
Dad details how old we were in the pictures, and what we’d been up to: ski camp; a birthday gathering; a hotel opening; a garden party. As his sons age, the number of photographs including Sienna increases. There are several of her and her mom, Anna Maria.
“A beautiful family,” Winter compliments Dad. “I really like this one,” she adds, holding it so Reuben can see the photograph.
After checking it out, Roo offers her a smile. I know it wasn’t taken the first time he met Dad, which was a tricky, emotional time for all concerned. This was taken a few months later, when Roo had at leastwarmedto the idea of seeing his bio dad more often. In many respects, there’s still some progress to be made.
“One of my favorites,” Dad says quietly, refusing to look at Roo and be obvious about it.
“So, sadly, we’ve hit a bump,” Winter digresses, holding my father’s attention. “Wardorff-Messen changed their mind. We learned today that they approached the owners of Gates’ Cakes who have since signed a contract to sell.”
“Oh,” Sienna whines from ten feet away, clearly ear-wigging. “How disappointing.”
“I see,” Dad answers.
Taking our seats, Brecken updates Dad on the unexpected turn of events. “There are two issues here. One, WM lied about Winter’s absence in the proceedings, insinuating she still worked for them. It’s why the Gates’ were inclined to sell to WM in the first place. There were other interested parties.”
“Like who?” Winter interrupts, taking a seat next to me.
“Individuals looking to take it on. Entrepreneurs who saw an opportunity for expansion. There’s also a national chain bakery who approached them.”
“How do you know?”
“I spoke with Louis Gates about twenty minutes ago. He’s sent me the contract and it’s nothing we can’t fight. Which brings me to point number two. If we want to pursue this, we just meet any costs that reneging on the contract will bring. It’ll be a one-off financial hit, but it all depends on if the hotel sees this as a viable plan.”
Dad nods, turning his attention back to Winter. “The cost analysis you sent over looks very promising.”
I’ve seen that document. It was robust and thorough, giving several possible revenue outcomes.
Encouraged, Winter smiles. “And you saw the breakdown of desserts by hotel?”
After New York, Winter asked our top fifty hotels to return data on dessert sales in the restaurants. Needless to say, the statistics were similar to those here and in New York.
“I did.” A wry smile. “It seems you understand cake, Winter. Our gateaux and tortes are very popular.”
Hearing the pride in my father’s voice is vindicating. It only builds my own to epic proportions. And seeing Sienna smile like she’s happy for Winter too, is plain amusing.
“So, let’s get to it. I’m starving,” Roo suggests, rubbing his hands together. “Sienna, are you putting on some tea?”
