After All - Part Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Dylan could hear singing as he walked into the suite of offices off the reception at nine o’clock. And it was a rather random occurrence. As he reached the office he was using it got louder. He paused at the door to Matilda’s office and smiled, she was the happy one, a small radio sat on the windowsill was playing Dolly Parton...not that he could hear much over her dulcet tones.

                ‘Working nine to five...what a way to make a living...’

                “Someone’s happy!”

Matilda glanced up from where she was pouring coffee and didn’t stop singing until the end of the line, “my mother’s favourite song. Just happened to come on the radio, but I kind of needed to hear that today.”

He smiled, “I remember. She used to play that bloody Dolly Parton album EVERY Sunday when she was cooking dinner.”

Matilda smiled too, a special shared moment, “yeah. She did.” She paused for a minute, “sometimes I can forget she’s not here...but never when I’m eating dinner on a Sunday.”

When she turned back to the coffee he knew that little mutual truce had passed, as she walked towards him extending a hand, a warm mug of coffee in it, he smiled.

                “So you got any miracle plans to rectify all this?” She asked with a smile as she gestured around her, meaning the hotel, “cos I’ve been thinking.”

That caused him to lift an eyebrow in question, “what?”

Smiling she lowered her bottom to the edge of the desk and looked at him, “well, I think you should take the least disruptive offer for the rest of the staff here, not Paul. And if I lose my job then I accept that. Since you settled my debt...” she eyeballed him for a second trying to make him squirm, it didn’t work, he just grinned. “Well I’m not as desperate as I was. If I’m out on my arse, I’ll bounce back. I’ve been lower than this.”

He smiled at her, it was such a generous thing to say, and she had no obligation to think of anyone but herself, “your mother would be so proud of you, you know that?”

She swatted at him, “don’t try and make me upset!”

Grinning he turned to the door, “got a few things on the horizon. Can we meet in an hour, I want to call Paul first, see what he has planned. Is that ok?”

She nodded, “I’ll be working out the bar rotas with Daniel if you need me.”

Not much later, it had all changed. Dylan ran his fingers through his hair. Since leaving Matilda’s office three things had happened, and all of them were going against what he wanted. Firstly his mother called, not just that - she’d phoned him a lot, but he actually answered that time. Cue forty minutes of being ranted at, now he was meeting her for dinner in the Ritz that evening. Hardly his choice.

Then he’d had a few fairly ludicrous offers for the hotel from more sharks, his biggest fear was someone ripping the place to shreds, but he was prepared for that, he knew that Paul wasn’t all about the highest bid, so he called him. Only to find him bouncing with excitement from the second he answered the call.

                “That’s SO much more than I was expecting!”

That was Paul’s opening comment, and Dylan sighed, “what do you mean?”

                “Didn’t you get the email earlier? Stylar has come in WAY above everyone else, almost at asking price.”

Dylan cursed under his breath, Stylar - such a dodgy company, he knew the CEO of old, he was about as ruthless as they came. He couldn’t believe that he’d emailed the old man directly. All enquiries were meant to go through him, there was no way he could talk him down now, Paul was already discussing what he was going to spend the extra money on. Dylan closed his eyes, and before he even knew what he was saying he seemed to hear the words that he spoke at the exact same time as Paul, there was no forethought or planning to his response.

                “I’ll match them...highest bid, minus double my fee. That’s the best deal you’ll get...and I’ll look after the place, your staff. I’ll buy the place. You’ll know then that the staff, the place...it’ll be preserved, looked after.”

Dylan shook his head, what was he doing? He felt the bile rise in his throat, whilst he loved a risk, thrived on it, this was the biggest gamble he’d ever dived headlong into without truly thinking about it. He had just offered to buy the hotel, the hotel that his just-stopped-being-angry ex-wife managed. He was about to become her boss directly IF the older man accepted. If he did that would signal spending more time in London, his US based business was about to explode with neglect after the few weeks he’d been away. Further time out would make things SO difficult. Brandy was going to kill him for dividing himself like this, for loading more pressure on her...then there was his mother. He’d told her he was going back overseas that he couldn’t help her out, couldn’t be relied on as she wanted...again.

He realised he was panting, the pounding in his head was blocking the older man’s voice travelling down the phone.

                “What? Sorry the line’s a little fuzzy.”

Paul chuckled, “I said AMAZING, I really didn’t want to think of it becoming a Travel Inn, or worse. The thought that it’ll remain as a hotel, golf club, and the fact that you’ve already made plans for the place...I’m happy with that, more than happy. Can you sort out the paperwork?”

He closed his eyes; he was about to do it, buy the place. He mentally calculated whether he could put his hands on that much cash at short notice, he had a few big things happening on the horizon. He’d need to rearrange a few deals, shift some money, but he was sure he could organise it. Managing Matilda was a whole different ball game. He had no idea how she’d take the news.

After finalising a few details, Dylan hung up the phone then slumped back into his seat, closing his eyes. Well he’d done it. What the hell did he do now?

He thought about it for a moment, with his business head on it was a sound decision, the hotel was a potential gold mine, but it needed further investment, radical overhauling cosmetically, it would need a large chunk of capital to follow the plans he’d compiled, but it could be a huge asset. Then there was the rational part of him who knew that his ex-wife would possibly kill him! She already thought he was interfering, controlling. This had been a genuine spontaneous gesture, fuelled by the desire to help her, to make sure she was ok. Controlling his internal voice reminded him, always controlling and interfering.

He groaned, he couldn’t tell her, not yet. Not when he had dinner with his mother to contemplate. He wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t tell her it was anyone else, he’d just avoid it, for the rest of the day at least, as long as possible. 

Mattie was still humming to herself when she knocked at his door a good while later. She’d expected Dylan to summons her from the meeting with Dan in the bar. Maybe he really was trying; maybe he really was making an effort to change. With a smile she walked over to him, he was on the phone, deep in conversation, but rather than ask her to wait, he’d gestured to the seat opposite himself as soon as she’d walked in.

As she waited for him, she studied her nails, for years they’d been bitten to the quick through stress and strain, but over the last few days they’d already started to grow, and Matilda realised how much easier her life was for the removal of the financial stress on her. She was almost tempted to blurt out a thank you to Dylan for saving her. But in reality her problems were his fault, she wasn’t in a rush to stop labouring that point. The thought of winding him up, torturing him about him all made her laugh.

She was still chuckling when he hung up the call, “you ok? Something funny?”

Shrugging a response, she dropped her hands, “wondered where you were.”

He sighed, this was never going to be easy, “I spoke to Paul, he’s being quite decisive about things...that’s wrong actually, he has had direct contact from one of the companies.”

That made her look at him in surprise, “someone is obviously VERY keen, that’s a good thing, right?”

His face contradicted that statement, “not necessarily, this Stylar, have you heard of them?” When she shook her head he continued, “they are a glorified asset management group, basically they’ll buy the place for a few months, a year tops, then screw the pants out of it. Maximum throughput minimal staffing, their managers are pretty cutthroat. When it’s at the point of imploding through bad management, but with great accounting figures, they sell big. Hopefully this place would survive, but loads have folded after the resale as the places are usually at breaking point.”

                “How can that be legal?”

He sighed, running a hand over his eyes, “who knows? Maybe it won’t be for much longer. But at the moment it’s fair game.”

She contemplated that for a moment, “I was expecting to be gone, kind of resigned myself to that, but I really didn’t think that this could be an option.”

Leaning forward he placed his elbows on the desk, “this is run like an independent business, a company with a family basis to it. That is what makes it work, you know?” She nodded mutely, “so I’m holding out on one more person to come good. We should know end of the day.”

                “And this other person? They aren’t going to run us into the ground?”

He crossed his fingers under the desk as he furnished the truth, he’d deal with her anger once he’d sorted out the deal, “they want a productive hotel, have no interest in replacing you, and actually have approved my improvements and recommendations.”

The smile that greeted him made it all worthwhile, pure pleasure, “you’re amazing Dylan! Well done!”

With that she almost gushed out of the room, at the doorway she stopped at his voice, “don’t tell anyone yet Matilda, let’s get all the papers signed. Ok?”

She turned with a smile, “no problems, I might even miss you when you go. You never know.”

Shit!

By mid afternoon Dylan had managed to pacify his mother once more, as well as Brandy out in the US. Louise his manager out there had worked her magic, and things were calm, though he was needed back there by the weekend. When she heard about his expansion plans she almost lost the plot.

                “Is that what you’re doing there? Making everyone’s life hell? Damn you Dylan. I’m trying my best to keep things going here, investing in London...what you going to do? Split yourself in half?”

Dylan sighed at the memory; Brandy was more astute than most gave her credit for. And she was right; he’d just made things extremely difficult for himself. And lying to Matilda has SERIOUSLY helped that. He groaned, a month earlier he’d had a simple life, work, some fun and everything in a strict compartment. Now? He laughed, now he was in a living hell, it was like trying to stand in water that was just a little too deep, he couldn’t quite find solid ground under his feet and he was at the command of the ebb and flow of the sea, struggling to snatch at breaths of air, fighting to stay afloat. His threats were coming from all directions.

By four he had rearranged his finances, freed up some cash, so he contacted Paul to exchange contracts, once he’d signed on the dotted line, legally made the deal he could tell Matilda. He knew he had to do it before he left, that would at least help him sleep. The way things were going, sleep was a long way off...a long, long way.

                “Right I’ve got the paperwork from Simmonds, can you fax me your signed version and I’ll liaise with his lawyer?” John his own lawyer was nothing if not efficient.

Dylan slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes; this was it, if he agreed there was no going back. Putting pressure on the bridge of his nose, hoping that it would assuage some of the worry related pain that seemed to hang there, he sighed, “I’ve scanned the signed page, it’s ready to send via email.”

John gave a gruff laugh, “Wallace, you are THE most organised man I’ve ever met. It’s no wonder these deals just KEEP happening.”

Dylan laughed back; John Rogers had NO idea that this was potentially the worst deal he’d ever made.

Finishing the call, he stood, it was time to come clean, and he only hoped he came out of this encounter with his own teeth still intact.

A knock at the adjacent door was met with silence, and as he pushed open the door, Sarah spoke from behind him.

                “If you’re looking for Mattie, she’s gone. Got a late meeting with someone to do with the TV golf weekend. She won’t be in now until tomorrow.”

He sighed, “typical. Ok. I’m heading off too. See you tomorrow.”

Damn it, he couldn’t help cursing under his breath, he needed to see her. He was tempted to get her address, go to her home, but there was something to be said for the formality of the office. She had to behave with a little more restraint there. Didn’t she?

Mattie was feeling radiant, the meeting had gone well, things were churning on a rate of knots for this big televised event that was planned for the summer, she hoped she’d still be there to be part of it, but if not it was further experience to add to CV, that was how she was viewing everything in her life, not negative, but as an aid to the future, and it was working! It was only early May, but suddenly the sun was shining, London looked amazing, sparkling. So she decided to walk across the City from her meeting to the tube station that linked her to her East end home. Despite her heels, and the impracticality of her dress for walking, she knew there was a bounce in her step. Whatever she thought, since Dylan had walked back into her life she’d had a big turnabout. She’d been low, depressed and broke, now she was optimistic, and back to being independent. It was a powerful thought, and even though she repeatedly reminded herself that her downfall was entirely his fault, she still couldn’t help but recognise him as being such a powerful influence on her.

Somewhere near Covent Garden, she saw a man selling ice cream from a booth at the side of the road. Perfect.

As she prepared to demolish the pistachio ice cream, her phone started to ring, so whilst holding the treat to her lips with one hand, she used the other to root around in her bag until she found her mobile.

An unidentified number.

Maybe her father, she thought, she was due a call from him. “Hello?”

                “Mattie, I am SO sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I guess I was too embarrassed.”

She stopped in her tracks as she recognised Paul’s voice, she’d been so angry to hear that he was selling the place second hand, and she’d left him a dozen messages over the last two weeks. She’d been so angry, if he’d called her the previous week it would have probably become a one way insult slanging match. Instead, she opened her eyes again, looked around and remembered that she’d come along way over the last few weeks.

So she sighed, “Paul. I can’t say I was happy, but I understand. How’s Carly?”

She could hear his palpable sigh of relief, “I know...it’s been a really hard time, I’m not proud. Carly’s good, she’s getting around on her crutches, her husband is still in hospital...will be for at least another three weeks. That’s part of the reason we needed to sell, they need a lot of help with the twins, we may not be back for a few months.”

Mattie sighed, lowering herself onto a nearby bench, “you don’t owe me an explanation, you can do whatever you like. I just wanted to speak to you about it, that was all.”

He groaned, “I was a coward, sorry. But Wallace is a legend isn’t he? I mean SO much interest in the place. And I never thought I’d get the full asking price, I honestly thought we’d have to negotiate down a lot. But it was all so easy in the end, I mean it’s the most steady transition we could have asked for isn’t it? I mean literally there’s just a paper name change, he knows all that’s going on, and can just keep on driving ahead, following his plans, which were very good by the way.”

Mattie was confused, but she couldn’t get a word in to question just what the hell he was talking about.

                “So I wanted to thank you, for everything you’ve done. I hope we haven’t spoiled our friendship over my immaturity.” He sighed, “and I hope that Dylan Wallace looks after you and everyone else, his track record is impeccable. I sense that he’s going to make the place a success.”

Mattie was glad that she was sitting, “Paul...are you saying the sale was completed? Today?”

If she didn’t voice the words there was a chance that she was misinterpreting  what she was hearing down the phone, because once the sale was complete Dylan was leaving, he was going back to his own world, leaving her on her own. There was no need to worry about his track record. Was there?

                “Of course! Didn’t you speak to Wallace today?”

                “Not recently, I’ve been at a meeting with the TV production company, most of the afternoon.”

Paul sighed, “that explains it. Yes we agreed a deal at lunchtime; Dylan’s company has bought the hotel. He’s the new owner. Isn’t that wonderful?”