Can't Help Falling In Love (25 page)

Willodean’s mouth curved up. “Like her heart was broken.”

Tony rubbed at the ache in his chest and ordered himself not to cry like his heart
was broken.

Willodean sat up in her chair and dropped her feet back to the floor. “Think we’ve
got a good handle on the staffing problems?”

Tony was glad of the conversation change. He needed to think. Without the watchful
eyes of Willodean Jackson recording every emotion that caused a minute change on his
face. Other people might struggle to read him. To her, he was large print and easy
words.

“Getting closer. Once construction starts, I think we need to talk about another assistant
manager for the shop, some part-time help, but we can do that later, and of course
we’ll have to start staffing the key spa positions, manager, assistant manager…
and whoever else it takes to run a spa.” Tony jotted down a list of things he needed
to research. Staffing was never-ending, but a spa? That was different. “Why do you
ask?”

Willodean stood. “You’re about to take a week’s vacation.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand. “No arguments. You haven’t
had one since you started working here. Now seems as good a time as any.” She smiled
and winked. “Better start making plans. Let’s say… two weeks from now. We’ll
meet with the builder, talk over the expansion, then you’re out of here. You don’t
have to go to Chicago but you can’t stay here.”

“Y
OU LOOK LIKE
hell. Memphis must have been rough.”

After her father completed his state-of-the-company monologue, her mother’s dining
room had fallen to polite, quiet silverware clinks. It took a minute for Randa to
absorb the fact that Trip was talking to her. And that some sort of response was actually
required. For most of the meal, she’d sat quietly and listened to her father and brothers
converse about whatever projects they were working on. It was miserable. So pretty
much like usual.

Randa had no idea why she’d decided to come for the weekly meeting her father held
every Thursday night. One of the best perks of traveling often was missing these.
These dinners might look like nice family gatherings, but this was business. They
might have been family only. And they might have taken place at her mother’s formal
dining room table. But all of her brothers and their picture-perfect wives had assembled
and worn their business best. On a slow news day, Whitmore family gatherings might
fill high society pages. And her mother’s cook had gone all out with the trappings
of a traditional yet still completely upscale dinner. Instead of roast, there was
prime rib.

Randa glanced across the table at her brother, Trip. His tie was loose but otherwise
he could be posing on the cover of
Moguls Monthly
. He looked a bit tired but that might also have been a bit of concern that she saw
in his eyes. As the firstborn, Marcus Whitmore III, or Trip as everyone called him,
was the most sympathetic to her cause. He knew how hard it was to live up to expectations
even if he didn’t understand what it was like to barely miss the mark. When he didn’t
add anything else, she looked at the rest of the family seated around her and the
empty chair right next to her where her fiancé would sit if she had one.

The empty seat was depressing. Another ally would be nice.

Her mother piped up. “Looks like the food was pretty good, though.”

Randa set down her soup spoon and wiped her mouth.

“Dammit, Diane, don’t say stuff like that to her. You know she takes it so seriously.”
Her father waved his hand. “Ignore her. Ignore your brother. You look fine. The last
thing I need is you on some crazy crash diet that makes you mean and stresses you
out.”

Fine. She looked fine. That was something. She tugged down on the skirt she’d barely
gotten zipped and fidgeted with her suit jacket. She also managed to suppress a nervous
hair flick.

She cleared her throat. “Well, everything’s in my report. Willodean Jackson has absolutely
no desire to sell and no need. I don’t think there’s a price we could set to get her
out of there and certainly not one that makes good financial sense.”

“No price at all?” Randa thought she heard a suspicious tone in his voice as Marcus
Whitmore leaned back so that a server could remove his cold soup. “That doesn’t happen
much.”

Randa was glad to hear he was leaving open the possibility that it might happen ever.
Even if she was the only one who’d seen the phenomenon.

He sighed. “Trip, head down there in the next few weeks just to give me a final opinion.”

Trip didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes was apologetic as he nodded.

Randa fiddled with her knife. “Why do you need another opinion, Father? Don’t you
trust me?” She smiled at him.

He pointed at her oldest brother. “Trip is on it. He’ll get down there, do some looking
around, and let us know where to go next.”

Randa glanced down at her water glass and her false smile faded. “Oh, that’s fine.”
But it wasn’t. And saying it was instead of how she felt about being dismissed like
that was what the old Randa would have done.

Her father heaved a gusty sigh. “Just… listen, I need you here for a bit. This
isn’t your thing, Randa. Business is hard. Cold. That last report sounded like a fan
letter to… what’s her name? The owner? You aren’t cut out for negotiation. I’ve
got some important meetings coming up. You can help your mother entertain. Since you
ran off your last fiancé, I want to show you a few prospects this time. Maybe a choice
is all it’ll take. Plenty of properties in this world.”

The thought of being on parade for a long line of hotel heirs filled her with dread.
Enough dread that she wasn’t even sure she could make it through dinner. Before Tony,
it had been awful. Now she just didn’t know if she could grin and bear it.

Her mother said, “We’ll need to see about getting you some new dresses. What you have’s
probably too tight. You’ll look like a cheap woman.”

That was her mother’s greatest insult. Cheap woman. Like what a woman wore had anything
to do with her value. To her mother, the two were intimately acquainted.

Of course, it didn’t help that she was absolutely right. The waistband of her skirt
was digging into her side and Randa was pretty sure it was ironic crappy luck that
she was also starving at the same time.

Her father glared daggers at her mother. The boys swiveled their heads from one end
to the other. And their wives ate tiny bites of everything on their plates.

She didn’t know her sisters-in-law very well but she’d often thought her life would
be easier if she could just follow their lead. They dressed well, attended all the
right functions, volunteered time and money to the best charities, and were perfectly
inoffensive in all ways to her parents. She was closest to Trip’s wife, Alice, who’d
brought with her a regional chain in Canada that was quickly rebranded when they married,
but their occasional lunches hadn’t convinced her Alice was satisfied with her own
dynastic match. Randa had made the mistake of asking if being a rich man’s wife had
been Alice’s dream. Randa wasn’t sure either one of them were prepared to hear the
honest answer. Alice’s face was full of resignation as she said, “Don’t be stupid,
Randa. I did what my father asked. Now I’ve got a husband who’s never home, most likely
because he’s in love with his secretary, and no life of my own.”

Randa picked up her wine glass and took a calming sip. More than anything she wished
it was sweet tea. Maybe after this was over, she’d get into her tiny red sports car
and head out on the hunt for a greasy burger and icy tea.

And then she’d listen to her mother harangue for days after.

Suddenly, she had no idea why she was so desperate to stay here, to fit in, to try
to out-Whitmore the Whitmores. All it got her was hungry.

On the plane ride home, she had listened to Elvis sing and done her best to convince
herself that the homesickness she was feeling would pass. In just the space of a few
days, she’d felt more at home, more herself, at the Rock’n’Rolla Hotel than she ever
had in her mother’s dining room. And somewhere between takeoff and landing, it hit
her that maybe her dream had never really been about the hotel of her own. She was
smart. She liked challenges. She liked business. But just because her family’s business
was hotels didn’t mean that was her only option. Maybe her dream had really been about
finding a place of her own. Work she could find anywhere.

As she watched her brothers and their wives and their lovely table manners, she realized
that, no matter how scary it was, to be happy, she was going to have to give up on
the idea of making herself a perfect Whitmore. She’d tried. Now it was time for her
to be the perfect Randa.

“I’m glad you’re all here. I’ve made a decision and this is an excellent place to
announce it.” Randa folded her napkin beside her plate. No matter how she put this,
it wasn’t going to go well. She needed to make a quick getaway in order to avoid flaming
fallout.

Her father tilted his head like he was oh-so-interested to hear what she had to say.

“I’ve decided that I want my own hotel, Father. When we find a new place in Memphis
or wherever the next place is, I want to renovate it and then I want to stay and run
it. I want my own place. You know that’s what I’ve always wanted. Not a husband with
hotels. One of my own.”

The room was quiet. No doubt everyone was holding his or her breath awaiting Marcus
Whitmore’s decree. Just like Randa.

He laughed. “You think you can do that? Just demand it and make it so?”

Randa wet her lips. “Well, I have more than proven myself. I’ve worked hard, done
a lot of time on the road, learning what makes a good Whitmore hotel.” She straightened
her shoulders. “I’m ready. I can do this.”

Her father looked down at his wife and shook his head. “I never doubted you
could
do it. You’ve done the hardest part of the job and done it well.”

Randa was speechless for a minute. Then her mother said, “Of course you can. Nobody
doubts your intelligence, Randa.”

Marcus shrugged. “But you’re missing the point. I’m not in this for one well-run hotel.
I’m building something here. I want the strongest chain in North America and you’re
going to help me best by adding to the number, not by running one really well. I can
hire
people to run hotels. You’re the only daughter I have.”

He picked up his fork and resumed eating like it was all settled.

And no one argued.

Except Randa.

“Don’t you care what I want?”

He snorted. “Of course I do. That’s why you’re still sitting here, a part of the group
even after you’ve let me down twice now. That’s why I pay your outrageous credit card
bills. But I know what will be best for you.” He pointed up and down the table. “Look
how happy they are. I did that. I’ll do it for you too. I’ll get my hotels and we’ll
all be happy.”

Randa glanced up and down the table. Her brothers and their wives might be as blandly
attractive as photo-frame models, but they didn’t look happy.

She turned to face her father. “I’m never going to marry the man you choose. I can’t,
not now. Since the Rock’n’Rolla and the people I met there, everything’s changed.
I have to change too. I want my own hotel.”

“Or?” He raised an eyebrow. The temperature in the room plummeted. “You’re too soft
to do what I asked you to do and not soft enough to follow the plans I make. What
good are you? What are you contributing, Randa?”

Randa blinked quickly. “So it’s all about return on investment, right?”

Marcus looked surprised she’d even ask the question. “Well, yes. Of course it is.”

“I’m not an investment.” Every head at the table snapped in her father’s direction.
She might have laughed if her hands weren’t ice cold. “I’d like to offer you my resignation
then. I’ve charged a plane ticket as my severance.”

“You don’t resign from a family.” He leaned back in his chair. “You want my money,
you work in my business where I tell you to. That car is mine. Your clothes. The credit
cards that pay for some really outrageous spa days. All mine. I don’t complain. You’re
a beautiful woman and there’s a whole lot of power in that, but if you aren’t working
for me, all that stops.”

Randa glanced across the table at Alice, who seemed to be encouraging her with her
eyes, and at Trip, who looked resigned and maybe a little like he admired her guts.
“I’m not quitting the family. I
am
quitting the job. And I understand perfectly that your money will stop when my work
stops. I can find another job.” As she said it, she was amazed at how certain she
was that it was the truth.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her father looked genuinely curious. “You actually think I’ll
let you go work for a competitor?”

“I’ve got to try something new. My ideas. My hard work. And people are going to recognize
it. My new boss has already shown she appreciates my work. I’m going to make someone
else a lot of money.”

Marcus Whitmore frowned. He didn’t like the idea of her making someone else money.
“Where are you going?”

Randa sighed. “I think it’s got to be Memphis.”

Chapter Fourteen

T
ONY WAS WORKING
the front desk when he saw a taxi roll to a stop in front of the lobby’s front door.
He’d switched shifts with Laura for the previous two days so she could get a handle
on the night shift.

Because tomorrow he was headed for Chicago.

For a week.

And if, at the end of that week, he hadn’t convinced Randa to come and work some of
her magic here at the Rock’n’Rolla Hotel, Willodean was prepared to bring out the
big guns.

Willodean was the big guns.

Apparently she was tired of dealing with him, post-Randa. He didn’t blame her. Misty
was just about the only one left who hadn’t given up on him. He was tired of being
snappy and short tempered and just a little bit sad. But he was just as determined
that if he couldn’t convince Randa to give them a shot, there was no need for the
big guns. She had her own life to live. Just because he hadn’t been able to get her
out of his head for almost two weeks since she’d been gone didn’t mean she shared
the same affliction.