The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club. Lynsey James
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It’s coming together. I can feel it.
There was something in his voice, a little nuance that told me I was moments away from success. Excitement began to build within me and I felt a million tiny butterflies release themselves into my tummy. This is it, I thought. This is the big moment. The one I’ve been waiting for.
‘I promise you, Mr Woodward; you won’t regret becoming part of Walter Marshall Hotels. We’re a trusted, reputable brand and, under our name, you can expect to see a significant increase in both visitor numbers and yearly profits. You’ve seen the numbers for yourself; you know it makes sense.’
As Mr Woodward repeated his numerous concerns about becoming part of a ‘faceless corporate machine’, I shifted my chair from side to side and drank the remains of my green smoothie. My face burst into a smile as the combination of kale, spinach, water and avocado hit my taste buds. There was no better way to start the day, in my opinion. I’d never been able to stomach a full breakfast; I preferred something quick to kick-start my busy mornings.
After listening to my prospective client’s worries and gripes, I knew exactly what to say to ease his mind. I’d dealt with a million owners like him; it was almost second nature to me.
‘Don’t think of it as becoming part of a faceless corporate machine,’ I said in soothing tones. ‘Think of it as joining a big, happy family who are ready to welcome you with open arms. You’re worried about your guesthouse losing its charm and I understand that, but I can assure you that won’t happen. While we do like to make some improvements to our establishments, we’ll do everything in partnership with you. Mulberry House will still have its charm and character because that’s the way you have made it. All you’ll be getting from us is the chance to be part of our established, reputable brand. If you join us, you’ll be able to really put Mulberry House on the map. What do you say, Mr Woodward? Are you ready to take the chance?’
There was a little pause and, for a moment, I worried I’d overdone it. By the end, I did sound like an eighties aerobics instructor. I swallowed hard and chewed my thumbnail. Please, please let this happen…
‘OK, Emily, you’ve got yourself a deal! Send me over the contracts and I’ll sign them.’
‘Excellent!’ I had to stop myself from dropping the phone and doing a happy dance. ‘Welcome to Walter Marshall Hotels, Mr Woodward.’
We said our goodbyes and I hung up. A feeling of elation hit me like a thunderbolt and I threw my hands up in the air in celebration. I hadn’t just closed another deal, you see; I’d closed the deal. This was the one that would change everything, or so I hoped.
‘Someone looks happy!’ My best friend, Frankie, perched herself on my desk. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘Just clinched the Mulberry House deal!’ I reached up and high-fived her. ‘Three months it’s taken me to persuade the owner to join and he’s just agreed! I’m sending him over the contracts now.’
‘Nice one!’ Frankie grinned and reached into her bag. ‘This calls for a celebration. How about we go to breakfast at that little café down the road? I could do with a fry-up!’
I shook my head and got out of my seat. My best friend was one of those impossibly skinny people who ate what she liked and never exercised. I’d found myself picking away at a Caesar salad while she wolfed down a cheeseburger and chips, wondering how the hell she managed it, on many occasions.