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At the end of the week, she received a summons from Lydia Jameson.
She’d expected an elaborate office, something regal to suit the photo of the woman she’d studied and the biography she’d googled to go with it.
Instead she found a modest, workmanlike room, a serviceable desk with a chair as straight-backed as Lydia’s spine.
She wore her dark honey hair in soft waves around a strong face of sharp points. Cheekbones, chin cut like diamonds. The decades of lines didn’t detract from it but made her look wise. And formidable.
Her eyes were deep golden brown behind the lenses of black-framed glasses. Her poppy-red lips didn’t smile as she studied Morgan.
“Have a seat.” The voice matched the face—strong—as she gestured with a hand adorned with a wedding set with a blinding square-cut diamond solitaire. “And welcome to the Jameson family.”
“Thank you. I’m very grateful to be a part of it.”
“I see Olivia in you, and some of Audrey with it. I imagine you got the eyes from your father.”
“The color, yes.”
“I have a great deal of respect for Olivia, and in the last several years, for your mother. It’s why you’re here. Or I should say it’s why you were given the opportunity to be here.”
“I know that. I’m grateful for that.”
“As you should be. I had Nell interview you, as I felt I should step back. I also have a great deal of respect for my granddaughter.”
“As you should.”
Lydia’s eyebrows cocked up at that.
“Nell tells me, as did Don, you’ll be an asset to the resort.”
“I’m determined to be.”
“Are you a determined individual, Ms. Albright?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
Lydia let that hang a moment while she continued to study Morgan in silence.
“It’s difficult for a determined individual to start over, but without determination there’s no chance of succeeding. Your previous employers also touted your loyalty. We prize loyalty here, and will give it in turn.”
“I appreciate that, and I’ve already seen it. Nick Tennant, ten years; Opal Reece, twelve; Adam Fine, sixteen. And others with that much or more. People don’t stay happily at a job if they’re not treated well, if there’s not respect and loyalty on both sides. I’m going to give you my best, Mrs. Jameson, and my best is solid.”
“I’d expect nothing less from Olivia’s granddaughter. Once again, welcome to the Jameson family.” This time Lydia rose, held out a hand.
“Thank you.”
As she walked to Après, Morgan let herself breathe again. She was pretty damn sure she’d passed the last test.
On her first official day as manager of Après, she wore her lucky earrings. And came in an hour before shift for a meeting with Nell and her mother—Drea Jameson, Events coordinator.
They met in Drea’s office, a larger space than Lydia’s that included a rosy-hued love seat and two floral-print chairs.
Morgan thought the feminine touches suited the woman, with her tumble of auburn waves, porcelain skin, and dreamy blue eyes.
She wore a plum-colored sheath with a waist-length jacket. Morgan imagined the slim-heeled gray pumps boosted the petite woman’s height.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t had a chance to come into Après and introduce myself.”
“Two weddings, an anniversary party, a corporate banquet, and the Grototti family reunion over the last couple of weeks wouldn’t leave you much time.”
