Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
My distraction at the handsome man in front of me is quickly replaced with panic.
My shirt is covered in coffee.
“What?” I ask, fumbling for my phone to check the time. Can I go home and try and rinse out this coffee and still make it on time?
It’s six minutes to nine. There’s no way I can get there and back. I’ve been splatted against the hotel wall. I’m ten steps away from the staff entrance. And anyway, I don’t even have a spare shirt when I get home. I’m due to pick up the rest of my uniform at the hotel today.
Shit, shit, shit.
How could this have happened?
When I look back up, the stranger is gone.
They say you never get a second chance to make a first impression. I hope that doesn’t turn out to be true in my case. I don’t want Avril and Poppy to think they made a mistake in hiring me and decide to terminate my employment. I can’t go back to Chilternshire with my tail between my legs after three days.
I pull some tissues out of my bag and try to mop up the worst of the coffee spill. I’m lucky not to have been burned. My shirt is soaked right through.
Is this a sign? Are the gods trying to keep me away from the hotel? Is the universe telling me I should never have set foot in New York?
I look up to the sky and try to take a steadying breath. On my third attempt, I actually feel a little calmer.
The universe is going to have to fuck right off because I’m here for three months—unless I get fired for looking like I crawled through a ditch to get to work.
At least my black jacket escaped relatively unscathed. Just a few drops caught the lapel, and I easily dab it dry.
I blow out a sigh and button up my jacket. When it’s closed, the stain doesn’t show. I can just feel the dampness against my skin. But I’ll have to put up with it until I can arrange to change.
This is fine, I tell myself. It could have been worse. Maybe this coffee spill was sent from the heavens to distract me from my nerves. Yes, that’s the explanation I’m going to go with.
I pull my shoulders back and head to the staff entrance. Inside, there’s a woman dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt, who’s clearly been waiting for me.
“I’m Rhonda. I take it you’re Aurora?”
I smile and hold out my hand. “Yes, very nice to meet you.”
She lets out a half chuckle and takes my hand. “You’re British. Avril said you were. I’m going to take you to see her and Poppy.”
Without waiting for a response from me, she turns and walks briskly down a long dark corridor.
“Laundry’s down there.” She points as we pass an opening to another corridor. “And so is the staff room.”
I’m terrible at directions and finding my way about. Honestly, it took me years to understand how The Rookery was laid out. I’ve brought a notebook with me, and when my shift is over, I’m planning to spend ten minutes drawing myself a map of the inside of the hotel. I figure if I do ten minutes every day, by the end of the week, I should have something I can use. It all depends how complicated the layout is.
“Are we in the basement?” I ask, as I have to run a couple of paces to keep up with Rhonda.
“Yup,” she says.
The linoleum on the floor turns from blue to green and suddenly we’re by some lifts.
“These are the staff elevators,” Rhonda says. “Never use the guest elevators if you’re not with a guest.”
I nod. We have the same rule at The Rookery.
“And the porters take priority with the luggage.”
“Okay.” Even though these are rules I’m used to, I still pull my phone out and make a note. I don’t want to forget anything.
My parents thought I was crazy for handing in my notice at The Rookery. And Darcy thinks I’m crazy for going across the ocean. I don’t want to prove them right. Even though I’m scared, and inside I’m wondering what I was doing saying yes to this job, I really don’t want to fuck things up.
When I leave, I want it to be on my own terms, not because I’ve been fired.
The lift arrives and Rhonda and I travel up one floor in silence. My head is too full to small-talk with a woman who clearly doesn’t want to small-talk.
When we come out of the lifts, the floor has changed from linoleum to carpet—a sure sign we’re on a guest floor.
After passing a couple of doors, Rhonda comes to a stop and knocks on one. “Good luck,” she says. “I’ll see you around.”
Avril opens the door, a huge smile on her face. “Aurora, it’s so good to have you here.” She pulls me in for a very unexpected hug. Then she glances at Rhonda. “Thank you so much for meeting her and bringing her up.” She turns to me. “Rhonda knows everything about everything. Any questions, she’s your gal. Any of us are, really, but when we want to know something, we all go to Rhonda.” Avril laughs.