The Chosen

nothing to do with it.”

“Well, it’s none of my business—your private life is your own. It’s distressing to see you like this, though. You’re obviously repressing a trauma.”

Am I? Of course she was. How could he not sense that, how could anyone? “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather not talk about that right now. Let’s talk business instead.”

“Ah, yes.”

Vera felt ludicrous. She’d lost her shoes on a mad dash through rush hour. Her vermilion dress was so crumpled it looked slept in, which in fact it was. Her lips were parched, and she could feel her makeup flaking on her face. Yet here she was, with a stoic business man, accepting a job for nearly four times her current salary.

First, Feldspar gave her back the bank check. Then he slipped her a sheet of paper. “This is our employment contract. It guarantees terms upon your signature. Before you sign, though, I must explain that the work won’t be easy. Expect to put in ten to twelve hours a day, six days per week.”

So what else is new? Vera signed the contract, the back copy of which Feldspar gave her to keep. “I’d like to elaborate now on some of the specifics,” he went on. The sweet cigarette smoke dispersed before his face. “As I informed you last night, we’re opening an exclusive resort; it’s a country-inn type of establishment.”

“Is the restaurant in the same building?”

“Oh, yes, and it’s quite well done. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

Neither could she, though she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “I’ll need to know what kind of staff you’re giving me.”

“There is none yet. As the restaurant’s manager, you will be expected to hire the restaurant’s staff. And do it quickly—we’d like to open in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” That was no time at all. “And what about the menu, the wine list, who are your distributors, your delivery agencies?”

“That, too, will be up to you.”

“Mr. Feldspar, I think it’s great that you want a state-of-the-art restaurant, but that’s dependent on a whole lot more than an R.M. I could be the best manager in the world, and the restaurant would fail if I don’t have the right people. The first thing you absolutely must have is a great chef—”

“Hire one.”

“A skilled chef doesn’t come cheap. The guy we have at The Emerald Room gets paid forty thousand a year.”

“Pay him eighty,” Feldspar bluntly told her. “You know this business, Ms. Abbot; that’s why we’ve hired you, and we know that good staff won’t leave their current jobs for a pittance. Simply solicit the people you need. I should think that if you offer them twice their current salaries they’ll be most willing, especially considering the free room and board.”

Vera had forgotten about that. Feldspar had said he was reserving some of the hotel’s rooms for staff. She could hire people here, and get them to move.

Feldspar passed her another bank check, but the amount space was blank. Next he gave her a thin stack of employment contracts. “Pay them each, say, a thousand dollars for moving expenses, and give them their first week’s salary as a bonus. Waitresses and busboys might be a problem, since many are students and hence unable to leave the localities of their schools. Room service should be able to provide some people if that’s the case. Keep it light at first, you can always hire more staff as business picks up. But a good chef is essential, and whomever else you feel necessary to start-up operations.”