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the impression I got from Jack.”
    “Jack?” Sam asked, trying to place the name.
    “Your front desk clerk? I expected you to be familiar with the staff.”
    Another area in which he’d been lax when it came to the Sunset. An error he would not repeat. “Cheryl handled the hiring. What exactly did Jack tell you?”
    With one brow lifted, Callie said, “Let’s say Cheryl wasn’t as amicable about terminating her position as she might have seemed. When I walked into the office yesterday, it looked as if it had been ransacked by angry marauders. I managed to collect things into somewhat manageable piles, but it could take me weeks to get things organized.”
    They didn’t have weeks to focus on an office when they needed to renovate the entire hotel before the holidays.
    “I’ll send Yvonne over to assist you, but we need to get started on the plans and set things in motion. The wedding I mentioned earlier is not next year or the year after, it’s this Christmas.”
    Several emotions danced across Callie’s features as his words sank in. Sam recognized doubt, confusion, and disbelief. He hadn’t expected to see anger.
    “Are you saying the Sunset Harbor Inn has to be completely renovated into a top-of-the-line boutique hotel in less than twelve weeks? Have you set foot inside the building lately?” She was up now, pacing in front of his desk. “The entire exterior needs repair and a new coat of paint. That alone would take longer than you’re requesting.”
    “Ms. Henderson—”
    “For heaven’s sake, call me Callie.”
    He didn’t like the informality, but, as they did have a history, it was ridiculous to maintain the charade. “Fine. Callie—”
    “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking. The inside isn’t much better than the outside. The carpet is old, stained, and smells in some areas. Every room has to be redone. And a boutique hotel does not have cookie-cutter, uniform rooms. Each will need its own theme and design. Don’t even get me started on furnishings.”
    She stopped abruptly, bracing her hands on the front of his desk. “This can’t be done.”
    Sam held his temper. Regardless of their past, she was still his employee, and he’d hired her to do a job. A job she now claimed was impossible.
    Granted, the timeline was being altered, but nothing was impossible.
    “Are you finished?” he asked. “Perhaps you could sit back down and continue this conversation rationally.” Sam used a tone that communicated this was an order, not a suggestion.
    “Fine.” Callie regained her seat. “I apologize, but surely you understand that what you’re asking is too much. We’ll have to let the wedding coordinator know that the Sunset Harbor Inn simply is not an option for this Christmas.”
    “Last I checked, Ms. Henderson”—Sam reverted to formality to make a point—“I am the owner of the establishment in question. And I say it will be ready by Christmas. If you’re not the person to make that happen, I’m sure I can find someone who will.”
    Nothing like letting arrogance and ego bite him in the ass. Sam had no other qualified candidates and doubted anyone else would accept this challenge. If Callie walked, he was screwed.
    But she didn’t know that.
    Callie gritted her teeth, holding his gaze as if determining whether he was serious. Exactly how desperate was she? Not that he wanted to use that desperation against her, but he would if necessary.
    “This is going to cost you,” she said. “Everything will have to be a rush order. Overtime labor. My own overtime.” She lifted her chin. “And I won’t have time to wait for your approval on every decision. I’ll need a high level of autonomy to get things done.”
    The idea of giving up any level of control went against Sam’s nature. But this was his fault for having given up so much already where the struggling inn was concerned. He’d delegated and let the hotel wither, if Callie’s summation of the place was