"Really? Then why do you smell like cat?" Kayla demanded. Her nose wrinkled, as if to emphasize her point.
Hannah's eyes widened in shock. She leaned forward to take a sniff. "Wow, Mom, he moves fast! It's been like, a day since he got here?" She hesitated. "Though he's pretty cute for an older guy."
With a start, Margaret realized that before Daniel's arrival, she would have never contemplated hopping into bed with a stranger, much less with one of her guests. But Daniel didn't feel like a stranger, and everything that had happened between them yesterday and this morning had just felt so right.
And she owed no one, least of all her daughters and her nephew, an explanation about her private life.
She looked at her three visitors, all of them in full metal protective bear shifter mode, and reminded herself that she had known them all when they were still babies. And had changed all of their diapers, even the glowering Mark's.
The memory gave her the strength to smile pleasantly at them despite her irritation.
"I'm trying to figure out how granting sanctuary to a perfectly nice man and his nephew suddenly turned into stranger danger—" She shot a glance at Mark and saw his jaw tighten under his beard. Then she fixed her daughters with her gaze, and finished, "—and your poor helpless mother being taken advantage of?"
Hannah and Mark at least had the good grace to flush with embarrassment.
Kayla set her jaw in that stubborn line that she'd inherited from her father. "Something doesn't feel right," she insisted.
"Maybe not to you," Margaret said, forcing down her irritation and trying to keep her tone gentle. They're just trying to protect you. "But I think I'm old enough to know what I'm doing."
She looked pointedly past them, to the house. "Now, if you're all finished trying to mother me, I need to start preparing Sunday dinner. These vegetables aren't going to wash and chop them themselves."
"Mom," Kayla began in an exasperated tone, but Hannah shook her head and put a hand on her sister's shoulder.
"C'mon, K. Let's go. It's a long drive back to our place in town, and I need to take a shower and put on some makeup before dinner. And so do you—you stink." She cast an apologetic glance at Margaret. "Sorry, Mom. We were just worried about you."
"I know, sweetie," Margaret replied with a sigh. "And I do appreciate you all worrying about me. But I promise you, there's no need for concern."
She watched as Hannah tugged at her sister's arm until Kayla turned and began heading back to her pickup.
Mark lingered for a moment longer, still frowning. "I really hope you know what you're doing, Aunt Margaret."
So do I, Margaret thought, as she watched him stride away. Looks like dinner tonight is going to be...interesting. I should probably warn Daniel when he gets back from his interview.
* * *
If you'd asked me last week what I thought I'd be doing this weekend, thought Daniel, as he drove south down the highway in the direction of Bearpaw Springs National Park, I would have never in a million years thought I'd be heading for an interview at a haunted hotel.
That thought brought to mind the source of that particular piece of information, and he found himself smiling at the memory of Margaret's reaction to the breakfast he'd cooked for her. Such a small thing, and it had apparently made her happy.
Daniel had discovered yesterday that he really enjoyed making Margaret happy. And last night had just sealed the deal, as far as he was concerned.
He couldn't wait until tonight, when all of the dinner guests had departed and he'd have her all to himself, all night long.
And now I need to stop thinking about her and trying to focus on my interview. No one's gonna hire a guy who strolls into a restaurant sporting a hard-on.
Daniel looked around at the passing countryside. The last time he'd driven down this stretch of the highway, it had been pitch-dark, and he'd been dangerously fatigued on the tail end of his desperate flight from Albuquerque.
He flexed his left arm experimentally. The bullet wound hadn't done more than twinge last night, and it felt only faintly sore this morning. By tomorrow, he'd only have a scar and a marred tattoo to remind him of the attack.
The reminder made him grit his teeth as guilt rose in his gut and dissolved his afterglow like acid. Here he was, safe and sound, well-fed and well-laid, and on his way to what sounded like a great job opportunity. And all because he'd run like a fucking coward when the enemy came for him.
Yeah, I'm just a genuine fucking hero. When hurriedly packing up, he'd left his Bronze Star and all of his other medals and ribbons behind in Albuquerque. And good riddance to them.
He sighed. Thinking about what he could have done differently two nights ago wasn't doing him any good right now. He needed to think about the future, and how he was going to support himself and Chris. Which meant he needed to ace this interview.
Can I see myself living here?
The scenery around Bearpaw Ridge was so different from New Mexico's stark, arid landscapes. The curving road followed the course of the river for the most part. Through the breaks in the bushy willows and tall cottonwood trees lining the banks, he caught glimpses of a wide band of clear green water flowing over smooth rocks. The valley floor rolling away on either side of the river was pleasantly rural—farmhouses, lots of lush green pastures dotted with grazing cattle and occasional flocks of sheep or dances of gray-brown sandhill cranes foraging with long, graceful steps. Behind the pastures and meadows, rolling hills covered with sagebrush rose towards the twin ridges of jagged peaks defined the eastern and western boundaries of the valley.
No cactus here. Lot of flowers, though.
After years of living in the desert, Daniel wondered if seeing this much greenery would ever seem normal.
He kept driving, following the directions of his Jeep's GPS, until the valley narrowed and tree-covered hills closed in on either side of the highway, rising steeply from the riverbed. Occasional clouds of steam rose into the cool autumn air from hot springs that dotted the riverbank at intervals.
He spotted the sign for the turn-off to the Bearpaw Springs National Park's entrance. The road leading to the park was narrow but paved. Daniel drove another five or ten minutes, until he saw the sign for the Bearpaw Springs Resort. He glanced at the time displayed on his dashboard clock.
I'm early. Good. And this commute is doable from the ranch. It had sometimes taken him just as long to cover a quarter of the distance during rush hour back home.
He pulled into the resort's large parking lot, and noted the large number of parked cars. Apparently, the park still had a lot of visitors even after summer vacation ended and school started up again.
The hotel was an enormous A-frame building with a log-and-shingle exterior and multiple gabled windows. It sat tall in the lap of the wooded hills that rose behind it. Two long two-story wings extended like arms on either side of the main building, as if embracing the parking lot.
A bronze plaque fastened to the wall next to the hotel entrance announced that the hotel was a National Historic Landmark built in 1902.
Daniel pulled open the massive wood-and-glass doors, and stopped to admire the immense lobby. It rose to the heights of a medieval European cathedral, and was nearly as long and wide as a cathedral, too. To his right, a massive stone fireplace, big enough to roast an ox, crackled with a real wood fire, scenting the air with applewood smoke. The lobby floors were dark-stained hardwood that looked original. They were covered with a brightly-colored assortment of what looked like Native American woolen rugs.
Ahead of him, the registration desk was an expanse of dark wood carved with a bas-relief of forested mountains, birds, deer, and bears, topped with a polished marble slab veined with pale gold and light gray.
To his left, he glimpsed what looked like a large dining room through a pair of vintage brass-and-glass double doors. That must be the hotel restaurant, he thought with a spark of interest.
Everything looked very upper-class, rusti
c but polished and buffed to a high gleam.
"Hi there, and welcome to the Bearpaw Springs Resort," a cheerful female voice said from behind him. "Do you have a reservation?"
Daniel turned and saw a tall, lithe, dark-haired Latina approaching him. He caught her scent, and recognized a fellow cat shifter, possibly one of the jaguars that Margaret had mentioned.
"Afternoon, ma'am," he said. "I don't have a reservation but I do have an interview with Mr. Eddy Ornelas. I am a little early, though."
"Oh, you must be Chef Langlais," the woman said, smiling. She looked him up and down with swift assessment, then offered her hand. "I'm Ariela Ornelas, the front-office manager. I can escort you to your interview." She paused then added, "Uncle Eddy really likes punctuality."
Point in my favor, Daniel thought as he followed Ariela through a door located behind the registration desk.
"I've really been looking forward to meeting you," Ariela said as they walked down a long, wood-paneled hallway. "I heard that you were thinking of relocating to this area. What do you think of Idaho so far?"
"It's beautiful," Daniel said sincerely. "And really green. Everyone seems really friendly."
"Good to hear," Ariela said, coming to a stop in front of an office door at the end of the hallway. "I hope you'll stay."
She knocked briskly and a gruff voice called, "Come in."
Ariela ushered Daniel into the office.
"Good luck," she whispered, then turned to go.
The office was uncluttered and its decor surprisingly modern, considering the Victorian rustic decorating scheme in the hotel's public areas. A sleek modern metal-and-glass desk held a laptop docking station, a large flat-panel monitor, and a split keyboard with ergonomic mouse.
The man seated behind the desk rose at Daniel's entrance, his hand extended. Though half a head shorter than Daniel, Ornelas was a powerfully-built older man with light brown skin, iron-gray hair, high cheekbones and the aquiline nose of a Mayan warrior statue. He was clean-shaven and wore a nicely-fitted dark suit and a dark red tie.
Daniel spotted a decorative plaque hanging on the wall behind the desk, which displayed an enameled Eagle, Globe, and Anchor emblem of the United States Marine Corps on a polished brass background.
"I'm Edward Ornelas," said the man in a rasping voice, as if his vocal chords had been damaged at some point. "And Maggie Swanson tells me that you're a fellow former Marine, Mr. Langlais."
Daniel shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you. And please call me Daniel."
"And you can call me Eddy. Come on in and have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?"
Daniel declined the offer of a beverage, and settled himself into one of a pair of large, very comfortable red leather armchairs placed in front of Eddy's desk.
"So, what do you think of Bearpaw Ridge?" Eddy asked, seating himself at his desk.
"I like it so far," Daniel answered, cautiously. "Everyone I've met so far has been really pleasant, and it seems like a good place for shifters."
Eddy nodded. "Got that right. This is one of the few places in the country where we outnumber the Ordinaries...during the winter, anyway, when the tourists go away." He paused, and gave Daniel a penetrating look from his dark eyes. "What have you heard about my resort?"
That's it's haunted. Luckily, Daniel had stolen a few minutes after breakfast to look up the Bearpaw Springs Resort online.
"You've got a nice website," he said. "Very informative. I saw that you have a full-service restaurant on the premises, as well as a coffee shop, a spa, hot springs pools, and a tour desk offering guided tours of the park aimed at various interests."
Eddy nodded, his face creasing in a smile. "Our photography safari has been the most popular tour in recent years. It books out months in advance. Currently, this resort is open from early May through mid-October, and closed during the winter. I'd like to keep it open year-round, and to do that, I need to offer a reason for people to visit here, even when most of the park is snowed in. That's where I'm hoping that you'll come in, Daniel."
"Margaret mentioned that you were interested in hosting conferences, weddings, and other special events," Daniel said, leaning back in the armchair. "I did a fair number of weddings and corporate holiday dinners back in Albuquerque. Have you hired an event planner?"
Eddy shook his head. "Not yet, but I've been looking for one. And my current executive chef, Tomás Flores, is leaving at the end of the month. He just accepted an offer at a major hotel in New York, which will be great for his career, but I really hate to see him go. " Eddy sighed, and visibly switched gears. "So, Daniel, tell me about your style of cooking."
"I'm trained in classical French techniques, and mostly cook Cajun and Creole food these days. But I'm flexible. Tell me what kind of cuisine you'd like your restaurant to focus on, and I can create appropriate menus for you."
Eddy nodded, as if pleased by Daniel's answer. "Can you describe your approach to hiring staff? What do you look for?"
Chapter Twenty – Commitment Issues
The interview lasted for a half-hour. Eddy's questions ranged from staffing to managing food costs to planning menus for large-scale events. For his part, Daniel was pleased that he could answer all of Eddy's questions, and even offer a few suggestions for implementing Eddy's plans.
"I like your attitude, Daniel," Eddy said at last, folding his hands on the glass desktop and looking satisfied. "Would you like to tour the kitchen and meet the staff? They were excited to hear that you were coming today, and told me that they were looking forward to serving you lunch."
"I'd love to see the kitchen and meet everyone," Daniel said with genuine enthusiasm.
He followed Eddy out of his office and through the hotel's huge lobby and equally vast restaurant dining room to the kitchen. Daniel was pleased to see that despite the building's age, the kitchen looked newly renovated, spacious and with modern workstations and the latest appliances.
The next half-hour passed in a blur of greetings, and more questions, this time from the kitchen staff.
To Daniel's surprise, all of the kitchen staff, from Food and Beverages manager Antonio Vargas and Executive Chef Flores down to the dishwashers, knew Daniel by reputation and treated him like a visiting celebrity. It made Daniel uncomfortable, but he did his best to ignore the adulation and just talk to the people, shifter and Ordinary, who might be his co-workers in the very near future.
"Looks nice, eh?" Eddy said with a wink as they left the kitchen and re-entered the dining room.
"Very impressive," Daniel agreed, following Eddy over to one of the tables, which had been set with a crisp white linen tablecloth covering the Formica tabletop and set with what looked formal china and glassware, including a pair of wine glasses.
The dining room was mostly empty, which was surprising given the number of cars in the parking lot. There was a family seated at a table halfway across the dining room from them. One half of the couple was a woman in her twenties, with hair dyed the shade of pink cotton candy. The scowling man sitting across from her had a shaved head and cheap, ugly tattoos running up the side of his neck to behind his ears. He wore a black hoodie plastered with the name of an out-of-state football team.
A little girl, maybe three years old, sat next to the woman in a blue plastic booster seat. The three-year-old was currently in full meltdown mode, wailing and sobbing, her face red with effort.
Eddy and Daniel both winced as the little one's high-pitched shriek hit their sensitive shifter hearing like a red-hot skewer. Daniel glanced at the woman's tired face, and felt a stab of sympathy. There had been a few memorable meltdowns when Chris had first come to live with Daniel, and the little boy screamed and cried for the mother who had abandoned him.
Eddy quickly shifted directions towards a booth as far as away from the family as they could get in the dining room.
"Maggie's nephew Tyler Swanson owns a construction firm," Eddy explained as they seated themselves. "I hired him to upgrade t
he resort's facilities two years ago. He did a great job, but it cost an arm and a leg." Eddy grimaced, as if the expense caused him physical pain. "Now I need to increase the restaurant's business volume to recoup those costs."
Daniel glanced around. The restaurant's decor was rustic-casual, with a mixture of wood-grain Formica tables and vinyl-upholstered booths, walls paneled in knotty pine stained a dark honey color, and large framed black-and-white photographs from the resort's early days. The ambiance was all wrong for hosting corporate events or even a formal wedding, even with tablecloths and formal place settings.
The decor would need some major updating here to upgrade it from a family dining experience to something more elevated, but given Eddy's comment about how much renovating the kitchen had cost, Daniel wasn't sure how his suggestion would go over.
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