Chương 10
Victor answered:
Then use judgment.
Two words.
Use judgment.
They sat at the center of half the disaster.
Rebecca explained that no single email decided everything.
Context mattered.
Other records mattered.
Who knew what, when they knew it, what disclosures had been made, what representations had been signed.
Clara was almost disappointed.
Real wrongdoing was less satisfying than television.
It came with attachments.
Lucas visited his mother twice a week and the hotel less often.
When he did come, he and Clara spoke carefully.
Their conflict had cooled into something neither named.
One evening, she found him in the ballroom after an event.
Staff were stripping linens from tables.
The chandeliers had been dimmed.
Lucas stood near the place where Margaret’s purse had fallen.
“You look lost,” Clara said.
“I’m waiting for my mother.”
“She’s here?”
“Scholarship dinner.”
Clara glanced around.
“Again?”
“She said avoiding the room would give Victoria too much authority over her.”
“That sounds like her.”
“Yes.”
Lucas looked at Clara’s new badge.
“Assistant director.”
“Don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You look surprised.”
“I look like this.”
She laughed.
He almost smiled.
Then she said, “Victoria was right about something.”
The almost-smile disappeared.
“She said you needed a symbol.”
Lucas did not pretend not to understand.
“Yes.”
Clara appreciated the answer and resented it.
“You never apologized for that.”
“I thought I did.”
“You explained.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
He looked toward the staff clearing glasses.
“I’m sorry.”
Clara waited.
“That’s it?”
“I’m trying not to give a speech.”
She smiled.
“Good instinct.”
He put his hands in his pockets.
“I was angry. I wanted Victor to feel powerless. You were standing there, and what you had done made the contrast useful.”
“Useful.”
“Yes.”
“Still not great.”
“No.”
“Why did you offer me the liaison job?”
“Denise did.”
“You approved it.”
“Because you had credibility with staff.”
“Because of the video.”
“At first.”
Clara folded her arms.
“And later?”
Lucas looked at her.
“Later you kept telling people no.”
She laughed.
“That’s my qualification?”
“You told Victor no. You told me no. You told Rebecca when you didn’t understand something. You told employees you couldn’t promise secrecy when that would’ve made them like you more. You told Denise the food supplier decision wasn’t yours.”
He paused.
“Most people become less honest near authority.”
Clara looked away.
A server dropped a fork.
It rang against the marble.
“Patrice thinks I’m becoming management.”
“You are.”
“She says it like a diagnosis.”
“Probably healthy.”
Clara glanced at him.
“What happens to the hotel?”
Lucas’s face closed slightly.
“We’re negotiating.”
“That means you won’t tell me.”
“It means I don’t know.”
She believed him.
That frightened her more.
The crisis came in October.
Victor’s restructuring proposal failed.
Not because Moretti rejected everything.
Because a second lender refused to extend its debt without fresh equity, and Victor could not raise enough without giving up controlling ownership.
Moretti’s alternative was a consensual transfer of the hotel into a new ownership structure rather than a prolonged court fight.
It would keep the property open.
It would also cut corporate staff, replace senior leadership, and likely eliminate several departments shared with Halcyon’s other properties.
Denise showed Clara the staffing model.
Thirty-eight positions were marked for elimination.
Clara stared at the page.
“These people have names.”
“I know.”
“Then why are they employee numbers?”
“Because this is the planning sheet.”
“Change it.”
Denise looked at her.
“What?”
“Put names.”
“That doesn’t change the economics.”
“I know.”
Denise studied her for a second.
Then changed the sheet.
The cuts included people Clara knew.
A payroll clerk who brought boiled eggs every morning.
A reservation supervisor whose husband had just opened a barbershop.
Two marketing coordinators.
Three corporate accountants.
An assistant banquet director.
Not villains.
Not symbols.
People.
Clara went to Lucas.
She did not ask for a meeting.
She walked into the conference suite where he was talking with Rebecca.
“I need ten minutes.”
Rebecca checked her watch.
“You have eight.”
Clara put the staffing model on the table.
“You’re cutting thirty-eight jobs.”
Lucas glanced at it.
“The proposal reduces duplicated corporate functions.”
“Say people.”
His eyes lifted.
“Thirty-eight people.”
“Why?”
He explained.
Some positions existed because Halcyon operated multiple properties under shared services. If the Grand separated, certain roles no longer had enough work. Other roles duplicated functions Moretti’s restructuring partner would provide temporarily.
Clara hated that the explanation made sense.
“How much do you save?”
He told her.
“How much does a ninety-day extension cost?”
Rebecca answered this time.
“More.”
“How much more?”
She gave a range.
Clara sat.
“What if occupancy improves?”
Lucas shook his head.
“Not enough.”
“What if executives take cuts?”
“Already modeled.”
“Sell something.”
Rebecca almost smiled.
Lucas did not.
Clara leaned forward.
“You made me assistant director because I tell people no, right?”
“I didn’t make you—”
“You approved it.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Lucas’s brow furrowed.
“No what?”
“No, you don’t get to call thirty-eight people a duplicated function and then tell yourself you saved the hotel.”
Rebecca closed her folder.
“Clara.”
“I’m not saying keep every job forever.”
Lucas remained still.
“Then what are you saying?”
She had spent two nights on the answer.
Not alone.
With Patrice.
With Denise, who told her she was wrong twice.
With department heads who argued for their own staff.
With a payroll manager who showed her severance costs.
With a banquet director who showed seasonal labor projections.
Clara opened a second spreadsheet.
“Ninety days. Voluntary reduced hours where people choose it. Freeze outside hiring. Use open positions first. Cross-train reservations and events. Delay three management hires. Offer severance now to anyone who wants it instead of forcing everybody into the same date.”
Rebecca read.
“This still costs more.”
“Yes.”
Lucas looked through the pages.
“And after ninety days?”
“Then you know more.”
“We know enough now.”
“No. You know what the hotel looked like while everyone was hiding problems.”
“That’s still the hotel.”
“It’s part of it.”
May you like
He turned a page.
“Who prepared this?”
