Garden of the Moongate by Donna Vitek

idea?"
    "Well, no, but…"
    "I thought not. You did the firing after he became ill, didn't you?" Raking his fingers through his thick dark hair when she nodded, he shook his head. "God, Deb, you shouldn't have done that without consulting someone with more experience. You simply can't run a luxury hotel properly if you don't have the staff."
    "You could if everyone worked harder, but, as I said, no one wants to work these days. Besides, you're making much too much of this. One dress wasn't returned on time. What's the big deal?"
    Allendre blushed as Ric muttered a string of very concise expletives.
    "The 'big deal' is that the couple behind me isn't having a very pleasant evening because of that one dress. They wasted an hour waiting for it to be delivered as promised, and now they're taking out their frustrations on each other. And, contrary to what you might believe, we're not in business here to precipitate divorces."
    "Oh, you're exaggerating, Patrick Shannon," Deb said with a foolish, ill-timed giggle. "People don't divorce because of one little argument about a dress."
    As the muscles in Ric's jaw hardened it was obvious that his patience was wearing thin. "That isn't the point, and you know it. The point is that these people will probably always remember this little episode with the dress, and for that reason they may never come back here. We want our guests to leave here with only pleasant memories, Deb. Any good, experienced hotel manager knows his prime objective is to check out happy people who feel as if they got what they paid for. But I don't suppose you lowered the room rates when you decided to reduce the staff, did you? That explains the high profit margins in the quarterly financial report."
    "But I thought you'd be pleased by the increase in profits," Deb muttered, allowing her lips to tremble pathetically. "I tried to cut every little corner I could to make you proud of me."
    "Lord, Deb, I thought you knew Shannon House means more to my family than just a convenient way to make a quick buck," Ric answered wearily, grim lines of strain etching themselves around his strong mouth. "My grandfather built this place up from nothing to become the finest hotel in Bermuda, and though I'm sure he was glad it made money, he wouldn't ever have sacrificed the quality of service for a few extra dollars. Even though my father has branched out into other businesses, he still wants to see Shannon House maintain that excellent standard of service. And I feel the same way; some things are more important than excessive profits."
    "Oh, now you're angry with me," Deb sniffled, clutching his arm as tears filled her eyes. "Sometimes I think if it weren't for Uncle Lawrence, you'd fire me. But I'm doing the best I can. I'm just going by the lessons I had during that hotel-management course I took in New York last year."
    "You would've been better off skipping that course," Ric said bluntly. "You'd have learned a lot more about running this place if you'd stayed here and watched how Lawrence did it."
    He sounded so impatient that for a moment Allendre could almost feel a certain pity for Debra Hopkins. But as she glanced at the older girl's face and intuitively detected the insincerity of her tearful reaction she realized that her sympathy was probably neither wanted nor needed. She could understand perfectly why Ric was so upset—Debra was something of a ninny. Embarrassed for the other woman and feeling she shouldn't be witnessing this unpleasant scene, Allendre decided to withdraw discreetly. However, before she could rise to her feet, the discussion began anew.
    "Dinner seems to be running smoothly," Ric commented with some relief as he looked around the dining room. "There seem to be an adequate number of waiters. Didn't you reduce the staff up here, too?"
    "No," Deb murmured, eyeing him through the damp fringe of her lashes. "Derek Harrison threatened to quit if I tried to reduce his staff."
    "Thank God somebody around here