Riverside he could almost hear the sound of laughter and easy chatter. Even Madge had smiled as he’d passed her office.
But it was more than that. Sean felt as though he had been infected with the Dee virus which coloured everything he did and made him see it in a new light.
He had spent the day getting to know the new hotel management trainees. They were a great group of young and not so young graduates: bright, keen and eager to learn. The future lifeblood of Beresford hotels.
It had been a pleasure to take them through some of the Beresford training materials, materials written and tested by experts in the hospitality industry and used in the hotels around the world. And yet, the more time he’d spent standing at the front of the minimalist meeting room at Beresford City, working through the elegant presentation materials while the graduates had scribbled away taking notes, the more his brain had reworked what she had said to him.
Was it really the best way to engage with his staff and motivate them?
Frank Evans was not the only hotel manager who had left Beresford hotels in the last twelve months, and they needed to do something different to keep the staff that were crucial to any hotel business. And it was not just the investment the family made in their training and development; it was that precious connection between the manager, his staff and the hotel guests. That kind of connection took years to build up and could transform customer service.
But it had to come from the top.
Perhaps that was that why he had turned off the projector after a couple of hours and herded these intelligent adults out onto the footpath to the Riverside hotel. He’d let them talk and chatter away as they’d walked, and he’d listened.
It was a revelation. A twenty-minute stroll had given him enough material to completely change his view on how to retain these enthusiastic new employees and make them feel engaged and respected.
The rest of the afternoon had been amazing. He had felt a real buzz and everyone in the room had headed back to their hotels exhausted and dizzy with new ideas and bursting with positivity.
He couldn’t wait to tell Dee all about it.
He couldn’t wait to see Dee and share her laughter. Up close and personal.
Sean flicked open his notebook computer and smiled at the new screensaver he had loaded that morning.
Dee’s sweet, warm smile lit up the penthouse. Her green eyes sparkled in the faint spring sunshine under that silly knitted hat as she clasped the red and yellow tulips to her chest.
She was life, energy and drive all in one medium height package.
The kind of girl who would enjoy travelling on rickety old railways, and always be able to find something interesting to do or someone fascinating to talk to when their flight was delayed. Dee was perfectly happy to spend her days serving tea to real people with real lives and real problems.
She was content to work towards her goal with next to nothing in the way of backing or support, making her dream come true by her own hard work.
His mouth curved up into a smile. He hadn’t forgotten the hit in his gut the first time that he had looked into those eyes only a couple of days ago. The touch of her hand in his as they’d walked along the London streets like old friends, chatting away.
Sean turned his screen off, got up, walked over to the window and looked out over the city where he had grown up.
Where was his passion? He was a Beresford and proud to be part of the family who meant everything to him. There had hardy been a day in his life when he had not been working on something connected to the hotels.
Sasha had accused him of putting his work before everything else in his life, blaming him for not having time for a relationship.
But she had been wrong. Sasha had never understood that it was not the work that drove him. It was the love for his family, and especially his commitment to his father.
That was the fuel that fed the engine. Not money or power or success. They came with the job.
When his mother had died of cancer a few short months after that first visit to the doctor, he had shut down, blocking out the world, so that he could grieve alone and in silence. His father was the only person who had been able to get through to him and prove that he had a home and a stable base where he was loved unconditionally, no matter what happened or what he chose to do.
The family would be there for him. His father and his half-brother Rob: Team Beresford.
Damn right. His father might have remarried when he’d gone to university, and he had a teenaged sister on the team now, but that had only made it stronger.
So why was his mind filled with images of Dee, her smile, the way her hair curled around her ears and the small brown beauty spot on her chin? The curve of her neck and the way she moved her hands when she talked?
Magic.
Sean ran his hands over his face.
Was it a mistake inviting Dee to the management dinner and introducing her to the family?
Paris was a short train ride from central London and Dee would love it there.
Maybe he could take a chance and add one more person to Team Beresford?
Only this time it would be for totally selfish reasons. His own.
* * *
Dee locked the front door, turned the lights off one by one and then slowly climbed the stairs to the studio apartment where she lived above the tea rooms.
What a day!
She never thought that she would be complaining about the tea rooms being busy but they had been going flat out. It was as if the rays of sunshine had encouraged half the tea-drinking and cake-eating population of London out of their winter hibernation in time for a huge sale at a local department store. And they all wanted sustenance, and wanted it now.
The breakfast crew had scarcely had time to munch through their paninis and almond croissants before the first round of sales-mad shoppers had arrived, looking for a carb rush before they got down to the serious shopping, and the crush had not stopped since.
Ending with the Thursday evening young mums’ club who held their weekly get-together in the tea rooms between seven and nine p.m. while their partners took care of the kids. And those girls could eat!
Lottie had gone into overdrive and a production line of cakes, muffins and scones had been emerging from the tiny kitchen all day. The girl was a baking machine in the shape of a blonde in whites.
And the tea! Lord, the tea: white; green; fruit infusions; Indian extra-strong. Pots. Beakers. And, in one case, a dog dish for a guide dog. She must have hand-washed at least sixty tea cups and saucers by hand because the dishwasher had been way too busy coping with the baking equipment.
They had never stopped.
But there were some compensations.
Whenever she had a moment it only took one quick glance at the huge display of bright tulips which Lottie had moved onto the serving counter to put the smile back on her face. Sean!
Dee padded through the small sitting room into her bedroom, unbuttoning her top as she went, and collapsed down on her single bed.
She slipped off her espadrilles and dropped her trousers and top into the laundry basket before flopping back onto the bed cover, arms outstretched.
Bliss! The bedroom might be small but Lottie had agreed to a rent which was more than affordable. And it was hers. All hers. No need to share with a nanny or friend or relative, as she’d had to for most of her life growing up. This was her private space and she treasured it.
She bent forwards and was rubbing some life back into her crushed toes when the sound of Indian sitar music echoed around the room and made her almost jump out of her skin.
Dee scrabbled frantically from side to side