Page 27 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“I know.” I grab his wash bag and head into the bathroom, flipping on the light and then the shower, leaving the water to heat while I strip off these god-awful clothes and debate whether to put them back or burn them. “I wouldn’t have put it past them to knock the place down,” I call out to Warren, who’s still in the bedroom, “and build a more modern hotel and spa in its place. It’s got a lot of land. It’s already attracted an aggressive buyer who wants to make it into a golf course.”

Opening the shower door, I step under the water, groaning in satisfaction before tipping my head back under the spray and letting it saturate my hair.

“There are thousands of hotels, spas, and golf courses to cater to the rich and pretentious.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Warren in the bathroom’s open doorway, having discarded his heavy winter coat and scarf and now leaning against the doorframe.

“You do remember catering to the rich and pretentious is how we make our money?” I grab the complimentary hotel body wash and squeeze some into my palm, pleasantly surprised at the scent as I lather up my body. Usually I use my own—that is, until Artie ran off with it.

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Warren says, and there’s something in his voice, something I can’t quite place, but it doesn’t sound like his usual happy-go-lucky nature.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I rinse off my body and reach for the shampoo.

“Nothing,” comes his reply. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything we have. I guess sometimes I think it would’ve been nice if we could’ve built something for ourselves instead of just having it all handed to us.”

In the middle of scrubbing my hair, I pause, letting his words sink in. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned something like this, and I get it.

“Do you want to sell up?” I ask quietly, my voice barely audible above the clatter of the water.

“No.” He sighs. “I don’t know.”

I lean my head under the water and rinse, giving him time to order his thoughts.

“I feel like I’m at a bit of a crossroads,” he admits as I shut off the water and open the shower door, snagging a clean towel off the rail and rubbing the excess water from my hair.

“I know that feeling,” I mutter, wrapping the towel around my waist.

“It’s not like I don’t love the job, or parts of it, at least. Being a hotelier is in our blood, but the company grew so big, so impersonal. All the hotels are the same. I know Dad was going for the luxury market, but you have to admit, we’ve seen the inside of more boardrooms than hotels over the last few years. It’s never-ending meetings, and I guess I’m struggling to remember the parts I do love.” He crosses the bathroom and hops up onto the counter beside me as I step up to the sink and study my reflection in the mirror. “Dad worked himself into an early grave, and I guess I don’t want the same thing to happen to either of us. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to look back and realise all I did was work twenty-four seven at a job I’m ambivalent about at best.”

“I get it, believe me.” I reach for the small travel toothbrush in the room’s welcome gift basket and unwrap it. “But it doesn’t mean things can’t change, Ren. You know I loved your dad, and I’m so grateful for all the opportunities he gave both of us. But he’s gone. If running the company is not what you want, we can do something about it.”

“What do you want?” he asks me. “For your future, I mean?”

I squeeze some toothpaste onto my brush and take the time while I’m brushing my teeth to really think about it. Finally, I spit and rinse, then dry off my mouth and turn to my brother.

“Honestly?”

He nods. “I think we both need to start being honest, not just about what we want but also what we need.”

“Like you, there are parts of being a hotelier that I love. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else. But you’re also right that the company has become so big and impersonal. All our hotels are…”

“Boring?”

My mouth twitches as Warren unzips his wash bag and hands me a comb.

“I was going to say they all follow a blueprint as part of the branding. It was what your dad wanted, but that was his dream. You need to figure out yours.”

“I’m not sure how to do that,” he admits, watching me comb my hair.

“Sure you do,” I say as I set the comb down and he hands me his shaving foam. “Forget all of our hotels and the business as it currently is. If you had a hotel empire all of your own, how would you want it to look?”

“I don’t know. Smaller, I guess. More intimate. Each property unique. Although we have hotels in other countries, those are geared towards luxury city breaks, and we have that huge concentration of similar ones in the States. I’ve always loved older buildings, ones filled with history and character,” he says, warming up to the subject, and I can see the moment the light and excitement flickers in his eyes as his imagination fires up. “A smaller portfolio of hotels. Less domestic, more international. Historical cities. Landmark buildings. We wouldn’t just be hoteliers, we’d be preserving old buildings. Each one would be steeped in its country’s history. No more beige walls and white bedding. Colour and culture. Edinburgh, Venice, Madrid, London, so many amazing places with buildings that need saving, that can be beautiful and functional once more. No boards, no one to answer to. Just you and me.”

Despite the layer of foam covering the lower half of my face, I smile at him. “Sounds perfect to me.”

He hands me his razor. “Do you really think we could? I mean, sell off Dad’s company, everything he worked for.”

“I think your dad got to live his dream, and he’d be just as happy to watch you build yours.” I turn to the mirror and start shaving.

“Our dream, Morgs,” he says. “We could save this place too.”