Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Well, if you guys need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
Jane nods tearfully.
“Is that my grandson?” I hear the familiar, boisterous voice behind me.
“Best-looking grandson,” I reiterate as I stand up and face my grandpa.
Grandpa scoffs. “Only grandson,” he reminds me before a huge smile breaks out across his face. “Get over here,” he adds, holding his arms out.
Grandpa looks exactly the same as he has for the last decade. Sure, his salt-and-pepper hair has gone all gray now, but he still looks as young and fit as ever. You’d never know this seventy-four-year-old man still likes to run marathons twice a year.
After I’m squeezed with a strong hug, and he’s checked me over from head to toe, he waves me into his office. Grandpa’s wearing one of his business suits, this one in a deep blue color with a blood-red tie. When I was younger, I swore he was born in a suit. For years, I barely saw him in anything but one. However, now I know he always strives to present in a professional manner. His hair is freshly cut, and his nails trimmed.
When I was fourteen and following him around this very hotel like a lost puppy, he told me to always dress to impress. You never know when a networking or business opportunity will present itself. The last thing you want to be is at the grocery store and wearing grass-stained tennis shoes and a holey T-shirt. That’s why I’m in a pair of dark khakis and a white polo. After traveling halfway across the country the last two days, I’m still dressed as if I might run into a potential business acquaintance.
“I won’t keep you long,” he says. “I know you have to get settled.”
“I do, but the moving van won’t be here until tomorrow with the rest of my belongings. My trunk’s packed, though.”
Grandpa nods. “George is here. I’ll have him send one of the valets around back with a cart to help unload,” he says, typing out a message on his keyboard. When it’s sent, he sits back and gazes across the desk at me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I return his grin, relaxing into my own seat. “Me too.”
Sadness sweeps across my grandpa’s face as he says, “Your dad would be so proud of you, Eli.”
My throat tightens and it’s hard to swallow. “Thank you,” I whisper, wishing my dad was here today.
“You’ve taken the Chicago property and made positive changes. Our reservation percentage has steadily increased, and from what I’ve been told, the employees loved you.”
All I can do is grin at the compliment. When I graduated from business school, I was sent to Chicago to turn around one of our properties with the lowest annual profit. Even in the heart of Michigan Avenue, the Chicago Morrison struggled against big name hotel chains who would undercut their rates like Marriott and Hilton. Over the last five years, it went through changes to its interior design and landscaping, but the biggest change came in the form of the restaurant. Good food and a great atmosphere are what attract visitors, and once I brought in a world-renowned chef, the steak and seafood restaurant took off like a dream.
But all good things must come to an end.
Grandpa is finally retiring, stepping down as the President and CEO of Morrison Hotels. The next successor was always his only son, Turner. My dad. But an unexpected massive heart attack five years ago—one week after I walked across the stage to receive my business degree—left a void in our family business. So Grandpa stayed on, nurturing and helping me grow until he felt I was finally ready.
Monday is the big day.
“I have the best mentor,” I state, giving him a pointed look.
Grandpa waves me off. “Anyway, you’re all set upstairs. Housekeeping made sure of it.”
“Thank you, Grandpa,” I reply, anxious to get upstairs and shower after my long trip.
I’ll be living in the penthouse apartment on the top floor of the hotel. When the place was built, my grandparents put the penthouse apartment in the plans, so they had a place to live. Their plan was to cut costs by living on-site. However, after years of living within these hotel walls, my grandma craved grass. A yard for their young son to play in. So they purchased a small piece of land outside of town and built a home. All these years later, that’s still where my grandparents reside.
As I get up and stretch, he asks, “Big plans later?”
“I’m meeting Mom for dinner. You would know. You’re going to be there,” I tell him, watching him closely.
Grandpa laughs. “Yeah, I’m going to be there. We wouldn’t miss dinner with our grandson.”
“Best-looking grandson!” I holler as I head toward the door.
“Only grandson!” he bellows, the humor in his voice following me out of his office.