Her Own Rules (27 page)

Turning on the ignition, driving on, Patsy said,

“Probably at Christ Church in Armley. Do you want me to take you there?”

“I don’t think so, I’m sure I won’t remember anything. But thanks, honey.”

“What about Leeds Market? Would you like to stop off, see whether or not it triggers any other memories?

It was rebuilt in the seventies, after it burned down in a fire. But fortunately it was rebuilt Her Own Rules / 279

in the same Victorian style it had always been. So it’s the same now as it was when you were five or six.”

“I doubt I’ll have any significant recollections there, Patsy. I think that we ought to go to Ripon. We’ve quite a lot of things to review, and to discuss with the Millers. By the way, that was good news that they’re going to stay on as the managers.”

“Isn’t it just,” Patsy exclaimed, a smile flashing on her face. “I was thrilled when they first told me last week. I hope you’re not angry that I didn’t pass it on then, but I wanted it to be a lovely surprise for you when you arrived.”

“No, I wasn’t angry, and it was a
marvelous
surprise.

Now we don’t have to search for a good management team or interview anyone.”

“True, but we do have to interview the various chefs.

The Millers have done a lot of weeding out, as I told you, and we’re down to three.”

“That’s not too bad, but hiring a chef is always a tricky business; you know that, Patsy. They usually do a lovely meal to impress, but invariably that happens only once…disaster frequently follows.”

“The Millers have tried out these three off and on for a couple of weeks. One’s a man, Lloyd Bricker. The other two are women, a Mrs. Morgan and a Mrs. Jones.

So we’ll be eating well this weekend, that’s a certainty.

However, I tend to agree with you, hiring a chef is dicey.”

“We should be able to open the inn in May,”

Meredith remarked. “You don’t foresee any problems, do you?”

280 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“No, and I told you that when you arrived. It’s just this chef business that nags at me. It’s going to be fine, let’s not worry.” Patsy threw her a quick glance, then focused on the road again. “By the way, when are you planning to leave for Paris?”

“I had hoped to go next Wednesday. Now I’m not so sure. Agnes and I are supposed to visit Montfort-L’Amaury on Thursday so that I can see the progress they’ve made with the remodeling. And then I was going to Talcy with Luc. For the weekend. However, now that we’re looking for my mother, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Let’s just take it day by day,” Patsy suggested.

That afternoon, after they had eaten a delicious lunch prepared by the male chef, Lloyd Bricker, Meredith and Patsy did a tour of Skell Garth House.

Each of them made copious notes, and once they had reviewed every room in the inn they found a corner in the empty dining room and went over their punch lists together.

“There’re still a lot of things missing in many of the rooms,” Patsy said. “Claudia’s only partially understood me, I think. I explained to her several times that we’re upgrading the inn, creating much higher standards, both in accommodation and service. She seems to have missed the point that real comfort and luxury are absolutely mandatory.” She glanced at her pad, and added,

“I’m sure you’ve listed the same things as I, Meredith.

Hot water bot-

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tles in covers, oodles of towels in every room, bowls of potpourri and scented candles, wool throws, hair dryers, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Yes, I’ve noted all those things, Patsy, and they’re easy items to add. We just have to ship them up from London.”

“They’ve already been shipped,” Patsy replied, making a moue with her mouth. “Well, perhaps she just didn’t put them out yet. I’ll talk to her about it. What do you think about the refurbishment in general?”

“It’s good, Patsy, we picked some lovely fabrics and carpets. I noticed the draperies and bedcovers have been extremely well made, and the sofas and chairs beautifully reupholstered. Thanks to you. And the wallpapering and painting is excellent. But I am going to have to rearrange all of the furniture—and in most of the rooms.”

“I knew you’d say that. When I came up two weeks ago to oversee the installation of the carpets and the draperies, I gave them your floor plans for the furniture arrangements. They seem to have ignored them completely.”

Meredith nodded. “They certainly did.” A faint smile flickered. “The Millers simply put everything back where it was before, and those old groupings were not the best. Or the most comfortable.”

“I hope we haven’t made a mistake, keeping them on,” Patsy murmured, throwing her an apprehensive glance. “Do you think they’re too set in their ways?”

“Perhaps. But I’m sure we can overcome that. I’ll 282 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

have a long talk with them over the weekend. They’ve simply got to understand that we’re raising our prices.

Therefore our standards have to be higher, too. They’re both bright, so I’m sure we can reeducate them, help them to operate the inn the Havens way.”

Patsy grinned. “I’m glad you’re such an optimist, Meredith. I was getting really concerned about them when we were upstairs.”

“If I hadn’t been an optimist, I don’t think I would have survived that orphanage in Sydney.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Patsy glanced down at her pad, and went on, “The rest of the stuff on the punch list is all minor, to do with electrical outlets, the wattage of the lightbulbs and such, so we don’t have to worry now. It can wait.”

“I don’t have a lot of other things either,” Meredith said, and pushing back her chair, she stood up. “I’m going to take that walk, Patsy.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to Fountains Abbey?”

“No, thanks anyway for offering. I really do want to walk, I need the exercise and the fresh air. See you later.”

Patsy smiled at her and nodded.

Returning the smile, Meredith left the dining room, crossed the foyer, and headed out of Skell Garth House.

It was a fine afternoon, not too cold even though it was still April. The sky was clear, a soft pale blue filled with scudding white clouds. Wherever she Her Own Rules / 283

looked, Meredith saw that spring was truly here. The trees were in bud, the grass already thick and verdant, and, here and there, patches of wildflowers grew in the hedges. She noticed primroses and irises, and then, as she came to the avenue of limes leading to Studley Church, she caught her breath. Daffodils were blooming everywhere, on the banks by the side of the road and under the limes.

As she walked past them, the Wordsworth poem Patsy had recited to her in January ran through her mind. It had seemed familiar then, and now she realized that she knew the last verse:

For oft when on my couch I lie

in vacant or in pensive mood
,
they flash upon that inward eye
which is the bliss of solitude
;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
,
and dances with the daffodils
.

She knew it by heart because her mother had taught it to her all those years earlier. And it had stayed in her mind, dormant perhaps, but nevertheless there.

Her mind focused on Kate Sanderson. The shock of discovering that her mother was not dead had partially receded, but she was still upset, troubled that Kate had apparently abandoned her, and so callously, when she was a little girl.

284 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

Meredith knew herself extremely well, and she had begun to realize earlier in the day, as they had driven from Leeds to Ripon, that anger and resentment were beginning to simmer deep down inside her. As she walked on, heading up to the church on the hill, she resolved yet again to find Kate, no matter what it took.

Upon reaching the top of the hill she stood looking down at Fountains Abbey, and just as it had in January, it seemed to beckon to her, pull her forward.

A magnet, she thought, it’s like a magnet for me.

She hurried down the steep path, almost running, and within a few minutes she was entering the ancient ruins.

On this clear bright April day she was more stunned than before by the dramatic beauty of the soaring ruined monolith.

Dark and imposing, it was silhouetted against the pale sky as if flung there by a mighty hand. But, the blackened stones were softened by the greenness of the trees surrounding them. Just a few feet away from where she stood the Skell flowed toward Ripon. Yet another river, Meredith thought, no wonder I love to live near water. I grew up with it.

Seating herself on a piece of ruined wall, she cast her mind back in time, trying to envision herself visiting this place with Kate Sanderson, but no memory came to her, even though she sat there for half an hour. Her mind was totally blank. Still, again she had the strongest sense that she knew Fountains, had been here before, and that someHer Own Rules / 285

thing momentous, and tragic, had happened to her in this ancient spot. But what?

Only her mother had the answer.

Always, in the past, Meredith had used work to subjug-ate heartache, bring it to heel. Working hard until she dropped had enabled her to keep her mind off her troubles, to function properly.

And so for the rest of the weekend she threw herself wholeheartedly into creating a new look, her look, in most of the rooms in the hotel. It kept worry about her mother at bay.

With the help of Patsy, Bill and Claudia Miller and three handymen, she had furniture moved around until every arrangement pleased her, and each room had the look she was striving for. Beds, chairs, sofas, antique tables, and chests were repositioned under her direction; once this had been accomplished, she set about rearranging lamps and accessories and rehanging pictures.

The Millers were astounded by her, taken aback. As Bill put it to Patsy: “We couldn’t believe it when she took off her jacket, rolled up her sleeves, and got down to it herself.”

Claudia Miller was particularly impressed with Meredith’s energy, stamina, and sheer doggedness. At one point, late on Sunday afternoon, a weary and exhausted Claudia said to Patsy, “I’ve never seen anyone work like this before. She doesn’t stop, she’s a whirl-wind.”

286 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“I know. Meredith’s never ceased to amaze
me
. She’s a real workhorse. And also very talented,” Patsy pointed out. “She has terrific style.”

Claudia merely nodded.

Patsy added, “Meredith has really fine taste in decorating. She was born with it. And she has a great eye.”

“So I’ve noticed. The rooms do look better the way she has arranged everything. I suppose Bill and I were a bit slow on the uptake. We really should have followed the plans you gave us more precisely.” Claudia’s expression was suddenly worried as she asked, “Are you and Meredith upset with us?”

“No, of course not. It’s all right, don’t worry,” Patsy reassured her. “But do try and follow our instructions
exactly
in the future, Claudia, please. It’ll save a lot of heartache for everyone. Tomorrow I’ll help you to unpack all of the items I shipped from London last week, and Meredith will finish the public rooms down here. She expects to be done by lunchtime.”

“You will interview the chefs tomorrow, won’t you?”

Claudia said. “Monday is the deadline.”

“That doesn’t present a problem. By the way, I enjoyed lunch today. Mrs. Morgan cooked it, didn’t she?”

“Yes. She also is going to make dinner tonight.”

“Not Mrs. Jones?”

“I’m afraid not. She burned her hand cooking dinner for us last night and she begged off today.”

Her Own Rules / 287

“I see. Do you have a favorite, Claudia?”

“Yes. Mrs. Morgan. She’s the best in my opinion, and besides, she’s the most adaptable, more easy going in a way, not quite so temperamental as Lloyd.”

“And Mrs. Jones? Aren’t you impressed with her?”

“She’s a good cook, but I don’t think she’s right for the inn…at least, not the way it’s going to be in the future.”

“Do you mean she’s not sophisticated enough?”

“No, I don’t mean that, not really. You and Meredith said you wanted high-style English cooking, and country-type cooking to a certain extent. In my opinion Mrs. Morgan’s the winner. She’s the most all-round cook of the three of them.”

Mrs. Morgan turned out to be a woman in her middle fifties, with rosy cheeks, bright brown eyes, and a cheerful smile.

Meredith noticed at once that she had a pleasant demeanor, and within moments of being in her company she felt quite at ease. The woman exuded calm self-confidence, and Meredith could tell from Patsy’s expression that her partner had also taken an immediate liking to the chef.

“I understand from Claudia Miller that you are used to cooking for relatively large numbers of people, Mrs.

Morgan,” Meredith began.

“Oh yes, I am. Until a few months ago I was chef 288 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

at a hotel in the Scottish border country. It was an old house turned into an inn like this, but a bit bigger. And we also got a lot of local trade in the restaurant. So numbers don’t faze me, oh no, they don’t at all, Mrs.

Stratton. Of course, I’m used to having a couple of sous chefs.”

“Yes, I understand, Mrs. Morgan. That’s not a problem,” Patsy interjected.

“I gave Mrs. Miller all of my references, so I expect you’ve seen them.” She looked from Patsy to Meredith.

“We have indeed.” Meredith smiled at her. “And they’re excellent. We also enjoyed the meals you’ve cooked this weekend.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Stratton, and please call me Eunice. I prefer it. Much friendlier, isn’t it?”

Meredith said, “Yes, it is, Eunice.” She paused for a moment, shook her head, then said, “I’ve known only one other person called Eunice. And that was my baby-sitter when I was a child.”

Eunice laughed. “What a coincidence. You had a baby-sitter called Eunice in America, and I was a baby-sitter here in Yorkshire.”

Meredith stared at her. After a split second she said,

“Where in Yorkshire?”

“Leeds. That’s where I come from originally. My husband’s from Ripon, and he’s been nagging me to come back here for years.”