Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I’d been up early to work out in the gym, so I didn’t see Julia until it was time for breakfast and she waltzed out of our bedroom, hand in hand with Peyton.
He was suited up and wore a little smirk for me. “Morning, Daddy.”
Fuck.
“Mownin’, Daddy!” Julia echoed.
“Good morning, you two.” I touched her cheek before she crawled up into her booster seat. “Cathryn should be here soon. She stepped out to buy some fun things for your beach day.”
It was a shame we’d be heading inland when we flew up to Santa Rosa the day after tomorrow, but we’d be back soon enough. Julia positively adored going to the beach. Her daddy was looking forward to a trip to wine country, however.
“Peyton come wid me to the beach?” Julia asked, nodding.
“Not today, darling. But you know what? We have the whole weekend off, both Saturday and Sunday. How about going to the pool together?” It was only a white lie. I had plenty of work, but I could do most of it poolside.
Julia was disgruntled but didn’t push the matter.
Peyton served her a plate of fruit and a yogurt cup before taking a seat to eat the same thing. Julia scrunched her nose at it, but when she noticed Peyton’s identical breakfast, she stuck a grape in her mouth.
The relief was indescribable.
How had I not figured it out sooner? She wanted someone to follow while going through this delicate time. I’d scoured bookstores for material on the development of toddlers. Perhaps she needed it even more now while we were traveling and structure wasn’t a given.
Regardless, I was incredibly grateful for Peyton.
At noon, I was treated to a tour of one of our flagship hotels in downtown LA.
It was one of our most popular locations, and ratings were excellent. And yet, it wasn’t supposed to be any different from our two similar hotels in Manhattan, both of which had shown a decline in ratings regarding service and amenities.
Were business travelers arriving in LA expecting less here, or was our staff in New York not as good?
Sophia, the front office manager, showed Peyton and me around the premises, from the two gyms—one on the eighteenth floor, one on the third—to the restaurants, from the rooms to the pool area on the roof. It was a large hotel. I’d stayed here before, though it’d been years. I preferred our smaller location in Santa Monica, partly because it was easier to get to LAX from there.
The downtown hotel was popular due to its proximity to convention centers and the fact that it was in the business district.
“And here, as you can see, we have our conference rooms,” Sophia said as we exited the elevator on the seventeenth floor. “We have many tech travelers coming in from Silicon Valley, so we try to accommodate their needs.”
Peyton stepped forward and handed me a Post-it.
Customer surveys show ratings in service have improved since she started working here two years ago.
I inclined my head in thanks before returning my attention to Sophia. “That’s good. We’re trying to lure them away from Airbnb in many of our other cities. So far, without much luck.”
“Personalization, I believe, is key,” Sophia responded. “Travelers are sharing their experiences on social media today, and there’s nothing new and exciting about a hotel that looks the same in every city.”
She had a point.
We passed all the conference rooms; big and small, some were occupied, some not.
“We have luck on our side,” Sophia went on. “Many guests staying here require space for meetings, for instance. Airbnb won’t help you there.”
I furrowed my brow. That wasn’t luck. It was a well-planned move to provide conference rooms in all major chain hotels.
I let the comment slide.
The tour ended in the executive lounge next to the gym on the eighteenth floor, where Sophia spoke of another change they’d made recently—to offer privacy in the lounge for smaller meetings. She proceeded to tell me she’d taken the liberty of arranging a “nook” for me with coffee and pastries as well as some reports from their in-house surveys.
“Thank you.” It would be nice to get off my feet for a moment. The lounge was almost empty at this hour, and the dark oak wood dividers offered further seclusion. Two low couches and a table filled the little area, and a woman from the lounge staff came to pour our coffee as I sat down.
Then the women left.
“Want me to sort through these, sir?” Peyton sat down across from me and grabbed the stack of papers. “There’s no need for you to read what we’ve already had access to.” He rubbed his forehead and winced, which stole my attention much quicker than the surveys ever could.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, just a headache. Oh, wait. I have something for you.” He patted his pockets and produced a very small flask.