“My dad says she wore it almost every day before she gave it to me.”
Olivia leaned against the table.
“She must have been special.”
“She was.”
Emily paused.
“She used to tell me that the easiest way to understand someone's character was to watch how they treated people who couldn't do anything for them.”
Olivia nodded slowly.
“That's pretty good advice.”
Emily smiled.
“I think about it a lot working here.”
Olivia laughed.
“With some of our guests, you must think about it every five minutes.”
They both laughed.
Neither knew that those words would soon become painfully relevant.
Derek Langford's reservation appeared on the hotel's system at nine o'clock on a Friday morning.
He had booked the Presidential Suite for three nights, requested a private dining arrangement, and demanded an unusually long list of special accommodations.
The suite alone cost more than four thousand dollars per night.
His reservation was attached to a corporate account belonging to Langford Development Group, a company currently negotiating a multimillion-dollar partnership with Whitmore Hospitality.
Derek's father, Charles Langford, had been a respected businessman.
But Charles had recently retired, leaving his son in charge of the family company.
The transition had not gone smoothly.
Derek was intelligent and ambitious, but he had inherited his father's money without inheriting his patience or discipline.
He was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
When he did not, he became vicious.
He had fired assistants for minor mistakes, threatened restaurant managers over delayed meals, and used his family's influence to intimidate people who challenged him.
To Derek, employees were not people with their own worries, dreams, and families.
They were obstacles or tools.
And he believed that the more expensive the establishment, the more completely its staff should obey him.
By noon, he was already furious.
His private driver had taken a wrong turn through downtown traffic.
His phone had lost its connection during an important business call.
And the custom vehicle he had ordered for the weekend had not arrived on schedule.
By the time he entered the Whitmore Palace Hotel, Derek was searching for someone to blame.
Emily was standing at the reception desk assisting an elderly guest when Derek strode through the revolving doors.
He did not wait in line.
He pushed past another guest and slammed his phone onto the marble counter.
“Presidential Suite,” he snapped.
Olivia looked up from her computer.
“Good afternoon, sir. May I have your name?”
Derek stared at her.
“You're joking.”
Olivia maintained her professional smile.
“Your last name, please?”
“Langford.”
She began typing.
“Thank you, Mr. Langford. I see your reservation right here.”
He glanced at her screen impatiently.
“Then hurry up.”
Emily finished helping the elderly guest and stepped closer.
“Would you like some water while we prepare your room, sir?”
Derek turned toward her.
“What I would like is competent service.”
Emily nodded.
“Of course. I'll be happy to assist.”
“I reserved your most expensive suite.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So why am I standing here?”
Olivia checked the system.
“Your suite is ready, Mr. Langford. We just need to verify your identification.”
Derek scoffed.
“Do you know who I am?”
Olivia hesitated.
Emily responded calmly.
“We understand you're an important guest, sir. Our identification policy applies to every reservation.”
Derek's expression hardened.
“Did I ask you to lecture me?”
“No, sir. I was only explaining—”
“Then stop talking.”
A few nearby guests glanced over.
Emily felt the familiar discomfort of being publicly reprimanded, but she kept her voice steady.
“We'll have you checked in as quickly as possible.”
Derek pulled out his wallet and threw his identification onto the counter.
“There. Happy?”
Olivia completed the verification.
Then she frowned slightly.
“Mr. Langford, I apologize, but the authorization on the corporate account hasn't been completed yet.”
Derek's jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we need a payment card to secure incidental charges until your company's authorization clears.”
He laughed without humor.
“You want my credit card?”
“Only as a temporary guarantee.”
“You people already have my company's billing information.”
“Yes, sir, but the approval hasn't been finalized.”
Derek leaned forward.
“Listen carefully. My company spends more money in a month than this entire hotel makes in a week.”
Emily glanced at Olivia.
The statement was clearly exaggerated, but neither woman challenged him.