by Dani Collins
“I’ll have a new manager hired long before July.” The calendar had just turned to March. Lots of time. “It won’t affect the renovations. Those are on schedule.”
“But it affects Glory.” Rolf tucked his chin in a man-to-man directness.
Marvin turned to close the back of his vehicle, hiding the sting that came from having this man, who had only come into Glory’s life a year ago, trying to protect his daughter from him.
“She’s upset today. This hits close to home.” Nevertheless, Marvin felt the creep of failure pressing into his bones. Somehow, over the last years, he had lost something in his daughter’s eyes. She loved him, but she didn’t believe in him. Dragging her into his dream of renovating and running an inn might have resulted in her finding the love of her life, but she didn’t think her father could make a go of Blue Spruce Lodge. Not really. Not in the long run.
Her lack of confidence in him hurt. Failing her on her wedding day was not something he would or could allow to happen.
“Everything will be fine,” he told Rolf. “You’ll see.”
“I’ll ask Vivien to take a more active role,” Rolf said. “Just to be sure.”
Ouch. It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel every day that Rolf was waiting for him to crash and burn so he could pick up the pieces and do things his way. Vivien was the thin edge of that wedge. She already behaved proprietarily enough: quick to order staff, playing lady of the manor when VIPs were in residence. Marvin didn’t need anyone taking him in hand, most especially a duchess of the Johansson realm.
Marvin was a pleaser, though. Always had been. That’s why it had taken him nearly sixty years to go after what he really wanted. He was here now, though. Blue Spruce Lodge was his, and, “I have everything under control.”
“She’s very organized. Always kept my father on track.”
Marvin smiled past his dismay at Rolf’s relentlessness.
“I’m sure she did. She’s a fine woman.” Too fine. She looked down on this entire venture. Since agreeing to plan the wedding, she hadn’t stopped complaining about the lack of resources in this small town. “But I can—”
“I’ll tell her to schedule a meeting.” Rolf talked right over him, nodded once to indicate the discussion was over, and carried the flowers inside.
*
Vivien had lived high and she had lived low. Rock bottom had been her foundation, growing up in poverty, moving around as her father went from job to job, drinking himself out of each hint of security with reckless abandon. At sixteen, with him in the drunk tank and her lacking even a high school graduation certificate, she had applied her pretty smile and pretty legs to every reputable business taking names, including the airfield on the outskirts of whichever town they had occupied at the time.
That stint making coffee between filing and running bank deposits had inspired her to become an airline hostess. Two years into that, she had found a pilot willing to marry her. He had stationed her in Berlin where they had lived a little too well. It had been the eighties, after all.
When her marriage had fallen apart, she’d been flat broke all over again. She hadn’t even had the airfare to fly back to the nothing she had left in America. She had taken up with a midlevel executive who had a wife in the country and an apartment in the city. He had complained constantly that his secretary didn’t know how to use the new computer she had been given to streamline her workload. He was investing in the company that made those contraptions, though, convinced they would soon appear on every desk in every office.
Being highly adaptable, and quite full of shit, Vivien had applied her pretty smile and pretty legs to every office looking for a computer systems manager. Soon she’d been the personal assistant of Oskar Johansson and fathoms deep in love with him. He’d been a bear of a boss, determined to take his father’s sporting goods chain into developing its own line of gear that would dominate the industry and very soon had.
He had also been married. When she and Oskar had become a little too close one night, and she had subsequently turned up pregnant, quite by accident—Vivien hadn’t wanted or planned to have children—Oskar had set her up in Manhattan where she had lived very well. She had seen him often, as he made regular visits to see their son, Trigg, but she didn’t sleep with him again until his first wife died. Then Oskar had married Vivien and she had been living like the one percent ever since.
What she had never lived, nor aspired to be, was middle class.
Taking in the home of Chief Adams and his recently deceased wife, Suzanne, she supposed this midlevel of society had its charms. The furniture was decent quality, if worn, the dishes pretty, if department store brand. There was a cozy permanence to the array of snapshots and children’s artwork and hand-knitted throws that spoke of familial connection, though. That was something Vivien had aspired to, especially when she’d been married to a workaholic, fighting his pigheaded, teenaged stepson for a shred of respect, fairly begging him to return the love of his hero-worshipping, much younger half-brother.
That ship of nuclear-family perfection had long sailed, though. Her husband was dead and his sons were adults. She had a fortune at her disposal and wasn’t a snob, per se, but she liked the way she lived. She had no intention of taking a step backward.
Which was why she was so frustrated by this ski resort project Trigg and Rolf had taken on. She’d fought Oskar on buying the wretched thing, but it would seem her lot in life was to manage hardheaded men.
And yes, Whiskey Jack Resort would eventually cater to the level of society she had risen to call peers, but currently she was living with blue-collar laborers in a pioneer setting. There was no shopping, no river cruises, and her best dinner parties were attended by athletes and executives, as if she hadn’t had her fill of those in this lifetime.
There wasn’t even a spa—yet—to turn her boredom into pampered ennui.
What was she supposed to do, though? Live in Berlin and hope Rolf and Trigg would visit once or twice a year, when they happened to be in Europe? Follow Trigg on his training circuit? Of course, she would always attend his most important races. South Korea had been a welcome reprieve from homesteading in the Rockies, but that visit to civilization was over and here she was, back in the backwater, her only choice of setting if she wanted any involvement in her sons’ lives at all.
And what of male companionship? Marvin Cormer was her natural squire to local events, being her contemporary and the father of her stepson’s fiancée. He was chivalrous and well educated, but he looked like an old English sheepdog in an unpressed suit. At best, he kept the other middle-aged heathens at bay, but he wasn’t a serious option for romance. If she attached herself to any man, it would be one who would keep her in the style to which she’d grown accustomed. When it came to running his lodge, Marvin was a disaster looking for the quickest route to bankruptcy.
She couldn’t imagine what had possessed Trigg to entrust such a vital piece of the resort’s restoration to such a haphazard man. Trigg was as stubborn as his brother and father, though. And loyal, which she couldn’t fault. A dreamer, too. That would be her DNA, she supposed, since believing she was destined for a life of grandeur was the primary reason she lived one.
No, she wouldn’t have any luck convincing Trigg the Whiskey Jack Ski Resort was a bad idea. As for Rolf, well, he was Oskar two-point-oh, veins seething with more piss and vinegar than a man had a right to. He had committed to Oskar’s original vision of Whiskey Jack becoming the number one resort in the world. Moving Rolf from a course he’d chosen was like moving the mountain he was trying to revive. Exasperated tolerance was the best she had ever been able to expect from him.
So here she was, mingling with the proletariat, trying to work out how to be happy with what she had. With this.
“Vivien.” Rolf cast his shadow over her.
“Bärchen.” Forced affection always made Rolf bristle, which was half the reason she did it, but the endearment was apropos. He was a bear, if not a little one
. And she adored him for his thorny personality. He reminded her so much of Oskar, she couldn’t help love him with all her heart, the monster. “Do you need me to find a vase or something?”
She’d seen him moving around the home, using his long arms to set flower arrangements on every flat surface. She set aside the tea she’d only accepted to have something to do with her hands. Her bladder wasn’t the stalwart it used to be and she’d heard rumors there was only one bathroom in this house. Honestly, they might as well have an outhouse at this rate. This wasn’t even glamping.
“The lodge needs a new manager.” Quick to the abrasive point, as always.
“Since when?”
“Since Trigg ghosted the last one.”
“Tsk.” She sighed, longing to defend her son, but how could she?
“Help Marvin for real this time. Don’t just hire a replacement. Make it all work.”
All? Simple as that?
“I have my hands full with organizing your wedding. In case you’ve forgotten.” And the town’s best catering option had just been laid to rest. She offered the calm smile she always used when the rest of the world was running around like their hair was on fire. Taking control was easy when you acted like you already had it.
“There won’t be a wedding if the lodge isn’t ready. Marvin leans so hard on Glory he pushes her out the door.”
“Devon will get every room guest-ready by July. Of that, I have no doubt. And Glory wouldn’t leave you again.”
“No, she won’t, because you’ll prop up Marvin and hire whoever is needed to make that place run like a well-oiled clock.”
So much like his father she wanted to smack him.
But if Trigg somehow caused the lodge to fail, by impacting staff or by his choice in teaming up with Marvin in the first place, Rolf would never forgive him.
Ah, parenting. Did it ever end?
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Danke. And why did you invite Ilke to the lodge again?” He switched to German to underline how dismayed he was.
“She arrived?” She skipped the part where she had no idea the girl was coming. “I talked to her in Korea. You know that.” Vivien had said she hoped Ilke would find time to visit again soon. It hadn’t been empty manners. Ilke held a special place in Vivien’s heart. Still, she was dead-shocked Ilke had taken her up on the offer. Ilke isolated herself at the best of times and after her disappointing performance in Korea, this definitely counted as ‘worst.’
Rolf wasn’t happy, though. He’d been downright pissed after Ilke had been here over the new year, skiing with one of his heli-tour groups. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but Vivien read him like a primary reader. Ilke didn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with, however, and sexism annoyed Vivien. It had held her back so often during her own professional life; she always called out her sons when they forgot that Oskar’s boys’ club had died with him.
“Run these things past me in the future,” Rolf said. Commanded.
“Don’t feel threatened, darling.” The thing with Rolf was, if she didn’t head right into the eye of the storm, he won by default.
He narrowed his gaze so his brown eyes were slits of hammered copper. “Ich nicht.” I don’t.
“Then there’s no problem, is there?” Checkmate. Not her first Johansson.
“Why is she here? She should be in Norway, finishing the season.”
Vivien’s heart had broken for Ilke as she watched the poor girl drop like a stone in the rankings. “Let her lick her wounds a few days.”
“Is that what she’s doing? Because that’s not how you win. Is she injured?”
At their level, team doctors did everything they could to keep athletes competing. Ilke would have to be in a full-body cast for Rolf to believe she couldn’t ski.
Before she could conjure a prevarication, she spotted Nate moving toward the door, zipping his leather aviator jacket.
“Nate! I thought you’d left already.” She waved him over.
“Leaving now.” He and Rolf stood eye to eye. “I want to finish the procurement list so we can go over it tomorrow, before you lift off,” he said to Rolf.
Rolf nodded acknowledgment.
Vivien had once heard Devon refer to Nate as ‘the black knight.’ She didn’t think it was meant as an insult. More a remark on how chivalrous he was beneath that strong, silent veneer. Vivien had always found him incredibly appealing, quietly going about his business, never missing a thing, quick to take action that solved a problem without making a fuss.
He was utterly heart-stealing with his son, too. She’d watched him today, not for the first time, standing like an alpha wolf over the litter of children, letting them throw themselves at him while he rolled a snowball, picking up and dusting off the ones who fell on their faces.
Being far too old to make a play for him herself, her matchmaking impulses shot through the roof every time she remembered he was single. Surely there was a woman in the vicinity who could see how badly this smartly turned out specimen needed a mate? Today he was especially handsome, with a freshly trimmed beard and civilian clothes instead of his usual reflective vest, work boots, and radio belt.
“Would you mind terribly if I went back with you?” Vivien asked. “Marvin is still making the rounds.” And could talk the ears off a stalk of corn. He would be here for hours. It was also a convenient excuse to leave this prickly conversation with Rolf and check in with Ilke. They should get their story straight before her stepson’s next interrogation.
Rolf sent her a half-lidded glare, knowing full well what she was doing. “Don’t drag your feet on finding a replacement manager. Glory is ready to castrate Trigg.”
“Likely have to take a number,” Vivien mused.
Nate said nothing, but his mouth pursed as Rolf walked away.
“No comment?” she prompted.
“I expect you’d like grandchildren someday. Might be in your best interest to guard his tackle.”
“Yes, well, mixed feelings if those grandchildren turn out like either of those boys.” No way was she ready to be a grandmother. Grandmothers were old.
She led him toward the bedroom where everyone’s coats were strewn on the bed. Dear Lord, deliver me. She unearthed her wool and cashmere Burberry and smiled as Nate took it to hold for her.
“I suspect Rolf is concerned with his own tackle,” she said. “And how much use it will see.”
Nate snorted.
“Oh, you must have a comment on that one.” She turned to give him a knowing smile. “I’ve heard the gossip.” There was a running joke amongst the staff that bingo cards should be issued for all the places Rolf and Glory had been caught fooling around. “What happens when Glory delivers his lunch to the base?”
“I eat at the lodge and take my time,” he drawled, holding the door for her, pointing to where he’d left his company-issued pickup truck.
She chuckled, but grew misty at the passion and genuine love between Rolf and Glory. There had been a time when she had felt that deeply cherished by Rolf’s father and sometimes wistfully ached for such devotion again.
“Even so, he doesn’t have to act like losing another manager is a humanitarian crisis. He’s completely forgotten we sent half the staff home through Christmas and I managed to pinch-hit right through the new year—”
She stalled, brain veering to New Year’s Eve. Some of the locals had come out, joining the heli-skiers in the lounge. The party had gone on well past midnight. Ilke and Nate had danced almost exclusively with each other before disappearing as so many other couples had through the course of the evening.
Nate steadied her as she climbed onto the runner and into the truck. He hovered, waiting for her to finish her sentence. She waved at him to close the door.
Nate wasn’t the type to screw around with a local woman, not in a small town where his son resided. She would bet he sought TLC further afield, maybe in Sacramento, when he disappeared to visit family.
Or maybe when a woman passed through whom he wasn’t likely to see again.
A woman who had shown up unexpectedly after a piss-poor performance at the winter games.
Hmm.
*
“Looks like we’re the first ones back.” Nate put the blade down on the truck as he turned off the highway and resigned himself to a slow crawl through half a foot of snow up to the lodge.
“I thought the city plowed to the parking lot,” Vivien said beside him.
“Once a day. They came by this morning.” Rolf had an arrangement with the town of Haven to clear the access during heavy snowfalls, but the road crews had plenty of other work in town and through the pass to Kalispell with the white stuff falling nonstop this week. “Our own tractor is supposed to sweep it the rest of the time.”
“Everyone had the day off,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but…” The Adamses were fixtures in Haven. Rolf hadn’t refused any local who had asked to attend the service, which included most of the laborers. Marvin had done the same with his staff and even Devon, Marvin’s contractor renovating the lodge, had only left a couple of carpenters behind. Everyone seemed to know Suzanne and her daughters, loving the food and cheer she had served up at Lazy Suzanne’s.
“Someone should have been down here by now, though. Hope you weren’t in a hurry to get back.”
“No,” Vivien murmured, but her tone almost suggested otherwise. She lapsed into silence.
Nate was fine with silence. He kept thinking about Wanda and how many ways he had already accommodated her—for his son, so they could share custody and not disrupt Aiden’s life too much.
He was still mostly furious with Wanda over everything, including this move to Montana, even if this job had turned into a silver lining.
He was very employable, but where he worked had become an issue even before Wanda came out of the closet. After growing up without his own parents, he had been prepared to do everything in his power to give his son picket-fence perfection. Money had always been tight, though. His grandparents had helped as much as they were able, but he had struggled financially to get into engineering. He had ended up in project management, which he loved, and the pay was lucrative. Unfortunately, bridges and other big construction projects didn’t come to him. The more remote the work, the better it paid.