‘What is going on?’ Ethan hissed at his assistant. ‘I am not late.’
‘Non,’ Noel agreed. ‘They are early. I sent you three messages.’
He’d seen Noel’s messages and ignored them. The vet had called and he had rushed to the surgery with Jeanne, expecting the worst but… it hadn’t been the worst. Bo-Bo was apparently in a deep sense of shock as well as having an injured foot. He was currently sleeping off the medication in the garage of the hotel at Tour Eiffel. It had been all he could do to get Jeanne into a hotel room there rather than have her rest alongside the dog in the loading bay.
He let out a sigh. So, he was a little dishevelled? Who needed to be in an uncreased business suit to exude professionalism? Self-belief came from inside not from power-clothes. At least he wasn’t in his running gear…
‘Order the coffee Silvie likes,’ Ethan said, straightening the collar of his shirt. ‘And something American for Louis. A hot dog perhaps?’ He smiled. ‘Nothing connected to penguins.’
‘Monsieur Durand has already ordered. Honeyed coffee and coconut biscuits.’
Ethan scoffed. ‘He orders this yet he wants to—’ He stopped himself short. He had been about to say that Louis wanted to sell the hotels, but that wasn’t the kind of information you should be imparting to your staff, even your closest confidante.
‘He wants to…?’ Noel inquired.
‘Change the menu,’ Ethan said.
‘He wants to change the menu?’ Noel asked, now looking confused.
‘Non,’ Ethan said. ‘I think we should look at changing the menu.’ He took the papers from Noel and hoped it was the information he had asked him for. Details of how well the brand was performing despite the global difficulties of earlier that year. ‘The menu has not been changed since the hotels were formed.’
‘That is because a long time was taken to perfect a core menu that was, if you remember, almost scientifically devised,’ Noel said to him.
Ethan knew that. He had listened to Ferne talk about it, plus two experts she had employed to deliver on it. Ferne had wanted the restaurants of the hotels to be in sync with one another and all the dishes had to be a surprise for the palate with delicate nuances taking well-known French cuisine to another level. The science said that diners were seeking ‘different’ with a touch of ‘unexpected’. But did science really know about everyone? And shouldn’t food be more about a ‘feeling’? Ethan held his breath then, thinking about Keeley. What she had said about ‘feelings’ had really resonated with him.
‘I want a new menu before Christmas,’ Ethan blurted out. ‘I want you to look at what the other hotels have planned for their festive lunches and Christmas party evenings and then I want you to think the complete opposite.’
‘I do not understand,’ Noel said. ‘The other day you tell me to see what other hotels and restaurants are doing with their decorations so we might create something similar. Now you are—’
‘Now I am asking you, Noel, to do something else.’ Ethan hadn’t meant his tone to be so sharp, but it was important for him to be in charge when Silvie and Louis seemed desperate to strip him away from that role. Ferne had trusted his judgement. Always. ‘Think… home comforts. Not everyone who comes away for Christmas is doing that because they want to get away from home.’ He mused on this anew as the words fell into the air. ‘Some people will have to be away from home, or perhaps they simply cannot be with their loved ones. They may well want reminders of those Christmases.’
He took a moment to remember the best Christmas dinner he had ever eaten. Not in a restaurant. Not even with the Durands. It had been at a shelter where the goose had been cut thick and served with crispy roasted potatoes, hot and fluffy in the centre, a menagerie of vegetables served with a dark, rich gravy. Ethan could recall just how full his stomach had felt after eating that feast next to other people like him. People with nothing and no one. People who relied on the kindness of others.
‘Home comforts?’ Noel mused, as if the phrase was alien to him.
‘Yes,’ Ethan answered. ‘Like… all the things you think you should not have, but secretly crave because they remind you of… a happier time or… a special place or moment.’
As he spoke he was filled with the most intense feeling. This was exactly what was missing from the Perfect Paris mission statement. There had been nothing wrong with Ferne’s quest for luxury, but perhaps the world had changed. And Ethan couldn’t help thinking that the other part of his friend – the part who had cared for strays and given money to beggars on the Metro – would have approved of the shift.
Noel was still looking a little out of sorts, like Ethan had shot down his large, glittery, festive balloon with a catapult. But Ethan was buzzing now. He didn’t care if his suit was creased or not. He was going to save the hotels and he wasn’t going to let Louis stop him.
Thirty-Four
‘Bernard,’ Silvie started, ‘we have had some coffee and you have eaten three coconut biscuits. The time for small talk about what we are all planning for Christmas is over. We want to know why you have asked for this meeting.’
This was a little news to Ethan. He had assumed that Silvie and Louis had requested this meeting with Ferne’s solicitor. Her estate was not completely settled. With business interests in France, it was not always so straightforward. Was the idea of a sale of the hotel business causing Bernard some issues in finalising things? Perhaps this could be a good thing…
‘Of course, Silvie,’ Bernard answered, picking his small glasses out of the pocket of his suit and putting them on his face. He opened the faded leather folio that had been on the table between them all from the moment Ethan had joined the meeting. The solicitor looked down at the paperwork then looked back up again, then down, then up for a second time.
‘Bernard!’ It was Louis who had exclaimed. ‘Please tell us why we are here. We contacted you regarding the finalisation of my sister’s affairs as her will directed. Can we cut to the chase on that if we must be here in person?’
Although the swelling and bumps on Louis’s face had decreased in size, the man was still sporting an unusual colour. Ethan ordered himself not to laugh. It must be so frustrating for Louis to have to be here, away from the management of his minions and his money.
‘Very well,’ Bernard said. ‘Of course.’ The solicitor drew in the kind of breath a doctor might take should he be about to deliver horrendous news to a waiting family.
It was the kind of breath Silvie had taken on the telephone when she had told him the heart-breaking news about Ferne. Ethan blinked and blinked again, his heart thumping hard as his memories took him back. Silvie telling him Ferne’s brain had no response. That the doctors wanted her to give permission to turn off the machine. His instant reaction had been ‘no’. Ferne was young and strong and there was no way she would want anyone to give up on her. But then Silvie had described how Ferne looked, how damaged she was on the outside, what the medics were saying about the inside, and how it was a miracle that she had even made it to hospital to be on the machine that was helping her to breathe. And then there had been the transplant. One kidney. That’s what Ferne’s life had come down to. One kidney that was taken for someone else before they pulled the plug. He had hated the idea of that. The truth was, Ethan had never got to say a goodbye because, perhaps selfishly, he was too afraid to see Ferne that way. To him she would always remain bright, vibrant and alive. And he never wanted to know of that moment when Silvie had held her hand as she slipped away.