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draperies and bedding. Each room will be unique, so we’ll need several sets of every color and pattern. New paint and area rugs over newly installed hardwood floors. Industrial grade to withstand the level of traffic a hotel endures, of course.”
    There. Back on track. All business.
    “We’ll need new mattresses,” Sam said. “I’ll give you the name of the company we used for the Anchor. So far the guests have been happy, so I trust we made the right choice.”
    “Mattresses,” Callie said, keeping her eyes on the yellow lined paper and not the man with whom she had once shared her own mattress.
    “Okay,” she said, stepping toward the door. “I think that does it. I can get started on this—”
    “Why are you here?” Sam asked, taking Callie completely off guard.
    She stared blankly. “Excuse me?”
    Sam crossed his arms, pulling the suit jacket tight over his broad shoulders. “You weren’t surprised when you walked into my office yesterday, so you knew I was the person you were coming to interview with.”
    She’d forgotten how direct Sam could be.
    With a brief hesitation, she considered her answer, but in the end, Callie told the truth. “I need this job. I knew any operation run by you would be top quality. I’ve worked hard since earning my degree four years ago, and have assisted in several hotel transformations, but I’ve struggled to find anyone who would let me lead a project.” Standing tall, she added, “When I found the ad for this position online, I applied immediately, hoping our previous connection wouldn’t be a problem.”
    Once her full confession was out, silence filled the air around them. Tiny dust particles danced in the beam of sunlight behind Sam’s head as his eyes narrowed, boring into her as if he could see the words she hadn’t said. Then his stance loosened.
    “Fair enough,” he said. “Looks like your gamble paid off. Hopefully for both of us.”
    The breath Callie hadn’t realized she’d been holding whooshed out. “I really appreciate this chance, Sam. I won’t let you down.”
    “I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t believe that.” Sam glanced around the room. “Back to the task at hand. You said each room will be unique. That’s forty-two rooms. What do you plan to do to make them all different?”
    “Right,” she stammered, jarred again by the sudden change of subject. “In the past, I’ve created a sort of color block for the layout. A four-block of rooms in blues, the next in reds, and so on. That helps the painters keep things straight and gives the hotel a flow and consistency, even while nothing is exactly the same.”
    Sam nodded. “A sound strategy. And the style?”
    “Clean lines and simplicity with touches that make the rooms feel cozy and welcoming.” Callie warmed to her subject now that she was discussing the part she loved most about these renovations—the actual decorating. “Nothing too frilly or cluttered. Elegant but accessible. We want guests to explore the local attractions but feel at home enough in the room that when they make a return trip to Anchor, we’re the first place that comes to mind.”
    Sam smiled, and Callie realized it was the first time he’d done so in her presence since she’d walked into his office the day before. Maybe even longer. His full lips stretched over straight white teeth, and tiny laugh lines appeared around his eyes.
    He looked younger when he smiled. Though Callie knew Sam was only thirty-six, he looked much older than she’d expected him to. Older and sad. Though she hadn’t put that emotion to it before, since he covered so much with formality. But there was definitely sadness in his eyes.
    “We’re clearly on the same page, Ms. Henderson,” Sam said, joining her once again at the door.
    “Please,” she said, “call me Callie. Every time you say Ms. Henderson , I want to look behind me for my mother.”
    Sam’s smile turned into a grin. “I met her once, didn’t