Polly longed to be able to leave, but she and Marcus had already arranged to hold a meeting to discuss the finances of the hotel after Neil had left, and for that reason she felt obliged to stay.
It was plain to Polly that Marcus was sparing no expense on the house. But then why should he? He was, as she already knew, comfortably well off and he earned a very good salary—Marcus’s mother had come from a wealthy family and it was via her that Marcus had inherited some family money. Richard’s parents, on the other hand, who were now retired and living in Cheltenham, had only Richard’s father’s army pension to live on.
Not that she envied Marcus his wealth, not for one minute. The hotel provided her not just with a beautiful home but with a comfortable living as well, and once Briony had finished college she would be even better off. Not that she had needed to finance her daughter’s education—Marcus had made it clear that he was more than willing to do so—but Polly had refused to let him. She had her pride, after all—which reminded her: she would have to find out from Briony first how much Marcus had spent on that dress, because she fully intended to repay him.
Neil and Marcus had finished talking now and Neil was getting ready to leave.
‘I’ll be in touch about the new bedrooms,’ he told Polly. ‘When do you think the work will be able to start?’
‘That’s really up to Marcus,’ Polly told him, ‘but if it could be finished for Christmas—’
‘Christmas?’ Neil’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’ll be lucky…’
‘Well, in that case it will have to be put off until the new year.’
That sounds more like it,’ Neil said, then thanked them both and took his leave.
‘Despite the fact that we’ve virtually been fully booked all year and our profits are holding steady, our actual profit margins have dropped,’ Marcus pointed out to Polly after he had finished going through the books.
‘Yes, I know,’ Polly agreed, adding when he continued to look at her, ‘The cost of food alone has increased, Marcus.’ She spread her hands and gave a small shrug. ‘Then there’s the heating, electricity, gas, water, the—’
‘Suzi tells me that at Gifford’s Cay they ration the guests’ bath and shower water, charging an excess to those who use more…’
‘Maybe, but England isn’t the Caribbean,’ Polly pointed out sharply. ‘And after a wet summer I doubt that our guests would be very impressed to be told that they can’t have a bath unless they pay extra for it. And, of course, you’re forgetting that the guests at Gifford’s Cay have the extra facility of three swimming pools,’ she couldn’t resist adding sarcastically.
‘We do our best to keep costs down and profit margins up, Marcus,’ she continued crisply. ‘But our guests expect a certain standard of comfort and if we start cutting corners…’
‘I understand what you’re saying,’ Marcus agreed. ‘But our tariff hasn’t increased this year…’
‘Not this year,’ Polly was quick to respond. ‘But we did increase it last year and I was going to ask you what you thought about us increasing it next year. I think our guests will accept an increase in costs more readily if they don’t feel that it’s something they have to expect regularly every year.’
‘Do you? Or is this just an idea you’ve come up with after consulting Phil Bernstein?’ Marcus asked her acidly.
‘I don’t need Phil’s help in making decisions about what’s best for Fraser House, even if you seem to need Suzi’s,’ Polly told him recklessly.
There was a long pause that positively bristled with the anger they were generating towards one another before Marcus responded silkily, ‘Of course, how foolish of me. It isn’t Bernstein’s professional expertise you want at all, is it?’
Polly drew in her breath, warning herself not to let her fury get the better of her. This wasn’t the time or the place to become involved in a full-scale no-holds-barred fight with Marcus, even if she was inwardly itching to retaliate to what she knew was a deliberately provocative and hurtful gibe.
‘What I want is absolutely and totally no business of yours,’ was all she allowed herself to say once she was able to speak past the lump of fury lodged in her throat.
‘In one sense perhaps not. But in another…’ Marcus paused and then told her flatly, ‘We are, after all, business partners, and when your personal behaviour could potentially affect our shared business interests…Suzi was telling me that Bernstein has quite a reputation. And you do realise, don’t you, that he’s—’