After All - Part Six

Chapter Six

Dylan wasn’t sleeping well, as luxurious as the suite he had was, it wasn’t his home or his bed, and he missed both. Saying that he couldn’t see him being there much longer. It wasn’t a hard task; Paul hadn’t made some key decisions with regard to the hotel. He had a day and a half of interviewing the staff and then he could conclude to the older man. He already knew what the outcome was likely to be, the place was desperate for modernisation, that and a few key issues he could confidently predict would escalate its popularity. Paul just needed to take his advice on board.

Straightening his tie, he checked his reflection, he was passable. He could do with a haircut, his eyes reflected the lack of sleep, but he was there. That was all he could promise, all anyone could ask. Breakfast, fruit and coffee, that was what he needed. With a deep breath, he marched out in to the world.

By mid afternoon he’d interviewed half of the available staff. As one of the chefs left he hung his head, would anyone say anything OTHER than how wonderful Mattie was. It was like a half day of tributes. The chef who’d just left had repeatedly told him that Mattie had helped him with work problems and personal problems, and then asked if he was aware of what an asset she was. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, since he’d announced rather uncaringly that they had once been married it seemed that the whole of the team had voted with their feet, and were now judging him as a real outsider, some sort of threat. Not the most conducive way to work.

Jumping to his feet he paced a little, he was feeling out of his depth for the first time in years, and it was all due to her. Bloody Matilda Wallace...but she wasn’t that anymore, she was Mattie Davies. He’d never called her Mattie in all the years he’d known her.

Storming out of his office he entered hers after the briefest knock on the door. She was at her desk on the phone and glanced up with a questioning look.

                “Yes, we need the delivery by four or we’ll cancel. That’s the deal Mr Roberts, we can’t negotiate on that.”

Dylan hated that he started to feel admiration for her business manner, he was here to change things, not to sit back and admire.

                “Thank you, that’s wonderful...ALWAYS a pleasure doing business with you too!”

As she hung up, Matilda looked at him with those huge blue eyes and he shook his head, “why are you called Mattie these days? You hated having your name shortened when we were together.”

She sighed, “Matilda Wallace was declared bankrupt, Mattie Davies is my kind of rebirth. Clean start.”

That stumped him, “bankrupt?”

She laughed, “Who do you think paid the hundreds of thousands of pounds if debts you left me with? Your fairy godmother?”

                “Uh...I...” he floundered. When he’d left he knew he left debt, but he presumed over the years it had sat waiting for him to return...he had no idea she’d had that.

Matilda stood, “Matilda was a dreamer, Mattie’s a realist. That works. Now you’ve booked a tee for three according to Tony our resident pro, and he’s hoping to meet you.” She gestured at the clock, you need to get going.”

With that she stormed past him and opened her office door, dismissing him. As he hovered undecided as to what to do, he heard a booming voice call out to him.

                “Wallace! There you are. What about this game you’ve promised me?”

God sometimes he could murder his friend Patrick for his dreadful timing. As he turned to excuse himself he wanted to get to the bottom of this with Matilda, the door to the office he’d just left slammed shut, and the click confirmed she’d locked him out too.

                “So what’s the deal here?”  Patrick asked as he watched his ball land a decent way of the fair way. The first five holes had been played in virtual silence, but Dylan knew that his friend would never let that last.

                “Don’t know what you mean.”

He laughed an instant response, “really? So you rush here on a whim, then I see you flushed mid argument with a fit broad...”

                “Don’t even THINK about it.”

Dylan snapped, his friend was a womaniser, and he’d never let him get near Matilda. He’d known Patrick Landry for five years, they’d had adjacent offices in the first premises he’d owned, a block in Brooklyn. Now Patrick travelled the world as a construction consultant, advising on government initiatives, housing projects...it kept him busy, and meant he had women in virtually EVERY port. They’d got on immediately, and been firm friends over the years. But now as Patrick watched him line up his shot, he realised how superficial he’d let that friendship be as at no point had he told him that he’d been married. You ‘forgot’ a dental appointment, you didn’t forget three years of marriage.

                “I think he doth protest too much. Who’s the woman?” His Louisiana accent had faded over the years, but when he was excited Patrick was as Southern as they came. Usually Dylan laughed, but not today.

                “Let it go Patrick, ok?”

With a raised eyebrow he allowed Dylan to tee off, then followed him up the groomed fairway. Part of the reason they were friends was the fact that Patrick knew when to leave Dylan to brood, he was a complex man, and was prone to mood swings. There were definitely times when he was best left alone, that way those moods had never come between their friendship, and he wasn’t about to let that happen now.

                “She’s my ex-wife.” He snapped when Patrick had played his second shot.

He could barely control his surprise as he stared at his friend, “I am so glad you didn’t say that BEFORE I hit the ball!”

Dylan rolled his eyes then chipped his own ball on to the green.

By the ninth hole he had revealed little more. Other than they’d been divorced five years ago after three years together, and that he hadn’t seen her for almost six.

                “Aren’t you going to ask me anything?” They were finishing the twelfth hole when curiosity at Patrick’s lack of the same caused him to speak.

Patrick grinned, “I have absolutely NO idea what to say, and in times like this I’ve learnt that it’s often best to keep it shut!”

Dylan rolled his eyes then played his shot before Patrick offered, “though if I knew that the reappearance of this woman would cause you to play golf THIS badly then I’d have invited her to any competition day we ever entered.”

It was a calculated comment, and had the desired effect, it made Dylan laugh and Patrick was glad of that.

                “So what’s the issue with this place? It’s a great golf course.”

He nodded, “the owner wants to know why they’re not on the celebrity circuit, he wants five star weddings and an A-list gold membership.”

                “The course has it; it’s spectacular considering it’s just twenty minutes outside the city.”

Dylan agreed, the sculptured greens, the lakes, the pheasants that strolled across the fairway, it was a great course, difficult, but not impossible, and it had a couple of trademark holes - the fourth needed a huge element of fluke to clear the lake, and the amount and size of bunkers on the eleventh made for some skill...or a spike well above par.

                “So what’s the problem?”

Sighing Dylan looked at his friend, “classic error. Investing in all the wrong things, needs an overhaul across the board. I mean I’ve got a nice room here, but you should see the general rooms, a hellish eighties mess. It’s never just that though, but there’s a very loyal staff group...sometimes that’s counterproductive, they’re all so busy appreciating and loving each other that they forget the big picture.”

Patrick lifted a questioning eyebrow, “you sure about that?”

Dylan shrugged, then hit his next ball. Because his friend was right, this devotion to Matilda was huge, and he couldn’t get his head around it. Then there was her telling him she was declared bankrupt. His fault. What a mess. She was avoiding him, and that couldn’t last.

As the eighteenth hole emerged, Dylan had never looked forward to a drink so much in as long s he could remember. In the bar, the staff gushed to serve him; all keen to show him how hard they worked. Sitting at a table overlooking the lake, the two men shared a bottle of wine. Another reason why they got on, they both appreciated the finer things in life, and a good quality red wine counted as part of that.

                “So how did you find the course?”

Dylan looked up to see Tony Farmer, the resident pro.

                “We loved the course,” he offered with a nod, then introduced him to Patrick. “Loved the fourth hole.”

Patrick chuckled, “that’s because he got to the green first try...anything to gloat over me.”

Laughing Tony replied, “that makes or breaks your day, that’s for sure.”

Dylan smiled, “I don’t think that marketing the golf course is going to be any hardship, on a sunny day like today it sells itself.”

That was the right response, because Tony grinned, “anything you want...on me.” Then he departed.

                “So?” Patrick dragged Dylan’s attention from the retreating golfer.

                “So? I email the owner with my recommendations and get out of here.” Before my mother finds me and before I get embroiled with Matilda. Those two were the scariest prospects.

                “And the wife?”

                “Jesus Patrick, she’s my EX wife...for a reason. Let it go.”

Back at the hotel the management suite was empty. Matilda had left. Ruing that missed chance, Dylan stormed up to his suite, there were times when only the pain of physical effort were enough.

                “Where’s Matilda?”

Dylan drummed impatiently on the reception desk the following morning, as Hermione worked at the computer. Looking up she sighed, “Mr Wallace.” It was almost with exasperation. “She’s at a conference in the Grosvenor, all day.”

He rolled his eyes, “so who’s in charge in her absence?”

                “Daniel and James. They’re both in the conference suite...”

With an abrupt nod he stormed away. He didn’t want to see the acting managers, he wanted to see Matilda.

Mattie hated these corporate days, but Tania their human resources manager ensured that she attended health and safety days, management forums...the list was both boring and endless. But the timing of this one was perfect; a day away from Dylan Wallace was just what the doctor ordered. The Grosvenor Hotel was swish, and the meals and refreshments more than made up for her general lack of interest.

Today there were marketing men from some huge corporate conglomerates discussing marketing strategies for various size businesses, and as she sipped coffee and listened to the theories, Mattie had the thought that in a few days time this might all be irrelevant. Come the weekend she could be out of a job...again.

Mattie wasn’t one to dwell on the unknown; instead, she listened, learned and aimed to increase her knowledge base as wide as she could. She appreciated how invaluable these conferences were on her CV, and after years of working in the city, hard business, she’d loved her diversion into hotel management, the whole tourism field was amazing. After meeting Paul and being offered the job at the Sunset Golf and Country Club, she’d attended night school to convert her business degree to one that included tourism, these hospitality and business meetings were fodder to her desire to improve, to keep working in that hotel.

She couldn’t think about the reason for everything looking so bleak. Being away from Dylan had been a relief; she was less threatened by the formidable business gurus running the course than she was of Dylan.  So much had happened since he’d walked out on her, and whilst she hated him for all he’d done, she also knew that she was anything but innocent in the whole thing. As much as he hurt her, she knew she’d hurt him. Life was hard.

Back at home her father called, he was settled in her brother’s house just outside Bangkok. He wasn’t planning to return until the summer, three months. But in his voice as he begged her to consider visiting, she had the feeling that he wasn’t coming back. Another level of loneliness. When was life going to get easier?

At the thought of another round of “beat yourself with a stick over the past” with Dylan the following day, she had an early night. Sleep...her only consistent friend.