“And you let her? St. Sebastian considers her a key employee. The sellers told us she played an instrumental role in realizing Las Ventanas’ potential as a family resort. Before then, it was just another pleasant but unremarkable property vying for distinction in Montenido’s crowded romantic getaway market.”
Barrington frowned. “Chelsea and I partnered on the project. We both recognized our prime location and large number of multi-room suites meant Las Ventanas could position itself as an upscale, family-friendly destination. And, yes, with my guidance, she created a plan to successfully attract the demographic we targeted. However, with all due respect, I think you’re overstating the value of a single, second-tier employee.”
With all due respect generally meant none, and in this case the feeling was mutual. “You consider the assistant manager a second-tier employee?”
“She’s enthusiastic and full of ideas, but she’s also extremely green. Once the owners promoted me to general manager, I quickly realized mentoring her was a full-time job. It took someone with my business acumen to sift through all her ideas and separate the gold from the garbage. It took someone with my skills to turn those ideas into reality.”
What in God’s name had she seen in this dickhead? A St. Sebastian-caliber leader understood management’s role to attract talented, enthusiastic people to the team, and then give them the resources they needed to succeed, not minimize their contributions and take credit for their ideas. On that philosophy, he and his father steadfastly agreed, which meant Barrington had to go. Not immediately, because firing the general manager risked inciting a mass exodus as everyone assumed they were about to get canned, but he’d start a discreet search. He’d happily pull the plug on Barrington when they found the right successor. In the meantime, however, Chelsea’s sudden departure sent a negative message to other employees. Obviously, he needed to point that out. With all due respect.
“She’s good at her job, and popular with guests and staff. Allowing her to leave on the heels of the acquisition implies we dismissed her or she resigned rather than be associated with St. Sebastian. Neither implication is acceptable as they both give rise to an employee retention issue. Talk her out of it. At the very least, negotiate an extension.”
Paul looked as if he’d swallowed his tongue. “How in God’s name am I supposed to do that?”
Rafe stood and shrugged. “Use your business acumen to figure it out.”
“It’s not that simple. There’s a…complication.”
“It’s not complicated. I’ll break it down for you. Convince. Her. To. Stay.”
“I’m involved with another staff member,” he blurted. “I’m engaged to Cindy Ruffy. Under the circumstances, Chelsea’s departure is for the best.”
Fuck. If she had any pride, she sure as hell wasn’t going to stay. “Nice timing, Paul. You drop this on her at the holiday party, right after we announce the deal. What were you thinking?”
“I held out until the deal closed, so she didn’t leave while there was work to be done. But I couldn’t wait any longer. Cindy and I are starting a family. Her condition will become apparent, and she wants to get married before—”
“I get it,” he interrupted, not bothering to hide his impatience. Barrington couldn’t sink much lower in his estimation. St. Sebastian definitely did not want this guy. The sooner he found a replacement, the better. They’d manage the messaging to the staff, as they would the news about Chelsea’s departure.
Already focused on the next steps, he strode toward the door. What a mess. Luc wouldn’t miss the opportunity to point out he’d failed to identify a significant interpersonal cluster-fuck lurking below the surface at Las Ventanas. But it was containable. He paused at the door, and turned to Barrington. “Here’s how this is going to go down. We—meaning St. Sebastian’s corporate communications specialists, and not you, or Miss Ruffy, or anyone else—will handle the employee announcement regarding Chelsea’s departure. We’ll prepare a release for tomorrow morning. If I hear a whisper about it before then, both you and Miss Ruffy are fired. Understood?”
“B-but that’s completely unfair! Chelsea could say something to someone.”
“You should hope she has better things to do than broadcast her personal life.”
He certainly hoped she did.
“My whole life just blew up,” Chelsea sobbed as she sat on a stool in Babycakes’ white tile and stainless steel kitchen, clutching a glass of cabernet in one hand and the last quarter of a double frosted fudge brownie cupcake in the other. Until now, she wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel anything but blissfully happy at Babycakes. Usually just breathing in the scents of vanilla and cinnamon, seeing the explosion of colors in the glass display cases, sent her mood soaring. But not tonight. Thank God the bakery had closed an hour ago. Customers didn’t want a side of crazy-woman-having-a-breakdown with their coffee and carbs.
Laurie took Chelsea’s wineglass and placed it on the counter, then handed her a wad of tissues and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Today goes down in the record book of bad days, for sure, but come on, your life hasn’t blown up.”
“Y-yes, it has.” She finished the last bite of the cupcake, and scrubbed the tissue over her cheeks. “Let me reconstruct the blast for you. The man I was involved with cheated on me and dumped me for the ice queen of HR, who also happens to be the mother of his unborn child. To spare myself the humiliation of watching them live happily ever after, I resigned from a job I loved, which ultimately may have been unnecessary, because after the stunt I pulled in the supply closet, I was likely to get fired as soon as the new owner found an excuse to boot me.” She crumpled the tissue. “God, when did I become such a loser?”
Laurie gave her a squeeze. “You’re not a loser. You picked a loser. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me. I’m tired of having my heart stomped on.” She tossed the tissue into the trash. “I’m done with love.”
“Because of Paul Barrington? That’s like giving up cake because you had a bad Twinkie.”
“Paul’s a Twinkie?”
“The human equivalent. A Twinkie isn’t real cake, and what you had with Paul wasn’t real love.”
“If Paul was my only disastrous choice, I might put the blame on him, but he’s not. Look at my history. Chad Dunkleman ditched me at prom and took Tammy Ballsmore home in the white stretch Hummer I kicked in half the money to rent. We’d dated for three years.”
“Tammy had a well-earned reputation for living up to her last name, Chad was drunk, and you secretly hated the idea of giving up your V-card in the cheesy white Hummer. You can’t possibly regret holding out for something better than prom night with Chad Dunkleman.”
She shrugged. “So I held out for college, only to have my boyfriend spend a semester in Spain and elope with a girl he met in a Barcelona nightclub.”
“Hey, at least you didn’t pay for the trip.”
“No, but I spent hours tutoring him in Spanish so he’d qualify for the study abroad program.” She picked up her wine and took a long gulp, wishing she could numb her heart as easily as she could numb her face. “Every single one of my relationships follows the same pattern. I trust. I give. I get dumped. Well, I’m done. The universe has been trying to send me a message, and today I received it, loud and clear. I only had to lose everything to finally listen. No more men. No more dating. No more love.”
“You can’t take what happened with Paul as a sign from the universe. Love sucker-punches everyone at some point.”
“Not you.”
Laurie didn’t even try to deny it. “That’s because I know how to guard my heart.” She tapped a snowflake-embossed red fingernail on the stainless steel counter. “Not because I’ve given up on men.”