Grand Passion

morning,” Cleo said. “I didn't hear you coming up behind me. Out for a morning walk before your next seminar session?”
    “I make it a point to walk one mile every day,” Valence informed her. “Proper aerobic exercise is essential to a successful attitude.”
    “It's always nice to meet someone who practices what they preach.”
    “I have a reputation to maintain, Ms. Robbins. I can only do that if I live by my own five basic rules of success.”
    “What are your five rules, Mr. Valence?” Cleo asked curiously. “Or don't you hand those out for free?”
    “As we have a professional relationship, I don't mind giving you my five rules.”
    “How kind of you.” Cleo wondered if the list would include clicking his pen exactly five times before replacing it in his coat pocket and always staying in the same room at the inn. During the course of her so-called professional relationship with him, Cleo had had occasion to observe a long list of such eccentricities in Valence.
    Valence held up his hand and pointed to his thumb. “The first rule is to concentrate on the objective.” He pointed to the next finger. “The second rule is to prepare a plan to meet that objective. The third rule is to resist the impulse to deviate from the plan. The fourth rule is to pay attention to every detail and to make certain it is covered before proceeding with the plan.”
    “And the fifth rule?” Cleo asked.
    “The fifth rule is to always think in terms of success, never in terms of failure.”
    Cleo considered that. “But what happens if one does fail, Mr. Valence?”
    Valence tilted his chin at a proud angle. “Failure is not an acceptable outcome for those who orient their lives toward success. I assure you that I did not acquire my reputation by making mistakes, Ms. Robbins.”
    “Must be kind of tough having to live up to that kind of reputation,” Cleo mused.
    “The rewards more than outweigh the effort involved,” Valence said. “You should know what I'm talking about, Ms. Robbins. Look at what you've accomplished at your age. You're the owner and proprietor of one of the most successful inns on the Washington coast. How did you talk a bank into loaning you the kind of money it must have taken to open Robbins' Nest?”
    Cleo looked out over the steel gray sea. “I had some money of my own.”
    “Ah, I see. Family money, then.”
    Cleo thought of the trust fund she had inherited after her parents' death. “Yes.”
    “I apologize for my questions,” Valence said a bit gruffly, as if he had suddenly realized he might have intruded on Cleo's privacy. “Didn't mean to pry. The thing is, I'm always interested in success stories. I guess you could say I collect them.”
    “You collect them?”
    “Yes, indeed. Whenever I find an interesting one, I like to dissect it. Find out how it happened. I learn things from it that I then incorporate into my seminars.”
    “Well, there's not much to my story, Mr. Valence,” Cleo said. “I bought the inn with my inheritance. With the help of some good friends, I've made it work. That's all there is to my tale.”
    Valence bobbed his head again. “You've certainly got an unusual group of employees. Your kitchen staff all look like they're from some New Age commune, and that new one, the man with the cane, doesn't dress or act like hired help.”
    “Well, he is hired help,” Cleo said shortly. “But I don't know how long he'll be staying.” That realization made her catch her breath. The thought of Max leaving sent a flash of pain through her. She realized she did not want to lose the man in the mirror now that she had finally found him.
    “In my opinion, his manner is far too arrogant for his position.”
    Cleo smiled to herself. “I'll speak to him about it.”
    “I suggest you do that.” Valence glanced at his chunky gold watch. “I should be getting back to my room, I suppose. I want to go over my notes. Before I bid you good day, however, Ms. Robbins, there is something I wish to discuss.”
    Cleo stifled a groan. “What's that, Mr. Valence?”
    Valence gave her a disapproving look. “I trust there will be no more upsetting occurrences such as the loss of electrical power that I was obliged to endure yesterday afternoon.”
    Cleo smiled wryly. “I'm afraid that sort of thing is beyond my ability to control, Mr. Valence. We'll do our best, but I can't guarantee anything, especially during a storm.”
    “If you cannot promise a reliable power source,