The Chosen

than ninety.”

“No it isn’t, not really. I’ve got ninety rooms, sure, but the average room books two people, and that’s three meals a day, not just one.”

Vera paused. He had a point… sort of. Perhaps she was letting a petty jealousy cloud her ability to see facts. “Well,” she attempted, “some of those people will be coming in to The Carriage House to eat.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Kyle baldly told her. “Mr. Feldspar figures that most of your business will be from the locals.”

“Is that so?” she huffed.

“Like it or not, the majority of The Inn’s business will be from wealthy out-of-towners, a select clientele. That’s why he needs me running the RS.”

“Oh? And why is that? You’re saying that my people aren’t good enough to serve your ‘select clientele’?”

“Hey, you said it, I didn’t. I’m more experienced in this gig. I’m sure your man over there is a great chef, but there’s a difference between a great chef and a great room-service chef. It’s a different job.”

All right, all right, Vera tried to settle herself down. She was falling right into Kyle’s trap, fighting already for higher ground—and losing. “I see what you mean.”

“We’re a team, Ms. Abbot—Vera.” His grin remained subtly sly. “Let’s be friends. I’m not out to compete with you.”

Bullshit, she thought for sure. She’d run into plenty of Kyles in her career, people who come on as nice guys, yet they’re stabbing you in the back whenever they get the chance. Everything Kyle said made objective sense; nevertheless, she didn’t trust him for a minute.

At least he’s cute, she thought next. A moment later, though, when she considered the thought, she felt shocked. Vera was not a libidinous woman. Her sex life with Paul had been good, but that was over now. It didn’t seem part of her character to suddenly acknowledge her attraction, however remote, to some kid she’d met fifteen minutes ago.

Be a good girl, Vera. Forget about this guy’s tight ass and start acting like an adult.

“Come on,” he prodded. “You’re gonna love it. Mr. Feldspar says you have your choice of suites.”

Nearing the end of the RS line, they passed two elevators, rs staff only, one read, and room service delivery read the other. But suddenly he was taking her through a door which opened up behind the reception desk in the atrium, between the twin winding stairwells.

“I still can’t believe how beautiful the atrium is,” she commented. Once again, her gaze strayed out over the array of plush carpet and furniture, and the gorgeous artwork, statues, and flower arrangements. Kyle, however, seemed to take it all for granted, turning up the left stairs without a second glance.

“Let me grab my bags,” Vera said. “I didn’t bring much in the way of personal effects.”

“Forget it.” Kyle waved her up. “I’ll have the dolts bring it up later.”

“The what?”

“The dolts, you know. The housekeeping staff,” Kyle designated. “That’s what we call them. They’re good workers but not much in the smarts department.’’

Vera’s lip pursed. Dolts, she thought. “I don’t know what school of management you come from, Kyle, but tagging your manual labor with derogatory nicknames