by Lori Ryan
“Bye, kids.” Aunt Sally gave a wink as she strolled away, singing Journey’s “Any Way You Want It.” She was a lousy singer, but her sense of timing was classic Sally.
“Bye,” Ben and Maggie said in unison.
Maggie laughed. “It’s hysterical to listen to her and your mom argue the merits of whose band is better, Journey or Bon Jovi.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never understood why your Aunt Lisa doesn’t get in on the arguments.”
Ben laughed. “She always said she doesn’t need to defend her ‘boys,’ as she calls the band. She’s confident in their superiority.”
Maggie chuckled.
Ben noted Maggie had a beautiful smile, and a great laugh. He couldn’t remember hearing the soft sound since high school, even though he’d come home for holidays and the occasional weekend here or there.
Maggie’s expression fell, her face serious, her shoulders taking on a stiff set. “So, did you get my email with the business plan?” The Maggie sitting before him now was drastically different than the one who’d been laughing a minute ago. She was all business, but there was a hopeful gleam behind the no-nonsense stare.
He hated to break her spirit, but she had to know her and his parents had been generous in their estimation of income for the coming year, not to mention the valuations had been based on his father working without taking a salary. “Yes,” he said quietly.
“And?”
“Look, Maggie, I know you guys have great intentions—”
Those mesmerizing green eyes flashed with anger and annoyance. “They’re not intentions, Ben. They’re clearly drafted and documented sales forecasts.”
He shook his head. “Maggie, your estimates of income for the coming year, I mean, you have to realize you might not get the numbers you’re hoping for.”
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Maggie—”
She raised a palm. “Stop. Your parents and I did our research when we began this expansion and those numbers are sound estimates based on our previous years’ data. We didn’t pull those numbers out of thin air and we didn’t err on the side of insanity. We went with conservative estimates. We’ve turned away business steadily for years, Ben. Did you know that, or have you been too busy nitpicking the plan, looking for flaws to find that out?”
Ben opened his mouth to remark but one glare from Maggie said she wasn’t finished yet, and he wasn’t welcome to speak until she was.
“The bank obviously believed in your mother’s vision,” she said, “enough to give your parents the loan. I’m not going to sit back while you and your brothers second-guess everything we’re doing here. If you want to help, then help. But don’t think you can do it by coming in and mucking everything up without any knowledge of the industry.”
Ben remained silent. He knew Maggie was heartbroken over his father’s death and he didn’t want to cause her more grief by hammering away at this in the lodge’s bistro. Nor did he want to point out the fact that his father’s free labor had been taken out of the equation.
Maggie closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, as if summoning a Zen god. Slowly her shoulders lowered and her fists unclenched. She exhaled, her eyes fluttering open, and glanced around the room before letting her gaze settle back on him. “Maybe we should go for a walk around the exterior and I can show you what we’re trying to do here,” she said calmly. “Maybe if you see it—”
“We don’t need a walk, Maggie. We need an overhaul of the renovation schedule.”
“Meaning?” Maggie glared.
“Meaning, there’s no viable way to finish the build-out of the private cabins and renovate the wedding barn before the bank reviews the first quarterly covenants. I’m not even convinced the buildings will be viable sources of income once they’re finished anyway.”
Maggie’s expression told him he only had a few seconds to get out what needed to be said.
“The fact remains,” he said, “the business plan was based on my dad working without a salary for at least a year, likely two. That dramatically changes how you can expect the covenant ratios to look. The bank needs to see a certain ratio of income to expenses. My dad’s death changes the results.”
“I know exactly what his death does, Ben. And I’ll make up the difference. I can work more hours to make up for it, and I’ve built a buffer into the business plan. We’ll make it.”
He shook his head. “There’s still the buildout.”
“The wedding barn and cabins were never meant to be ready in six months.” Maggie shook her head as though she was dealing with an idiot. “Our sales from the lodge, café and gift shop over the next few months have been earmarked for the first installment to the bank, and if we do this right, we can still meet the ratios and the booking requirements. The expanded number of rooms in the lodge, combined with a conservative estimate of our sales from the gift shop and café, will bring in enough income to sustain us. Did you read anything I sent you?”
“What I’ve read is that this is a secured loan, Maggie. Do you know what that means?”
“Don’t patronize me.” She narrowed her eyes as she spat the words.
Ben leaned over the table and spoke softer. “Fine. I won’t. If you understand this is a secured loan, then you understand that if this plan of yours fails, the lodge and the land go back to the bank. That doesn’t just mean this lodge, it includes the original bed and breakfast and my parent’s homestead.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.
“My family’s entire livelihood and our childhood home along with the surrounding land will be repossessed. My mother will have nothing. Do you get that Maggie?”
Maggie glared and her face reddened. “The bank can choose to forbear, they can delay foreclosure if we don’t meet the covenants. We’d pay a fee and have to deal with someone coming out to check on us, but we could weather it. Not that it’s going to happen that way,” she rushed to put in, “but they could choose to forbear.”
Ben clenched his hands. “This land has been in my family since this town was established. It’s land my brothers and I don’t want to lose. And you can guarantee, with old man Noble serving on the board of directors at the bank, they’re more than hoping you’ll fail.”
Maggie sat back and crossed her arms over her chest as if making up her mind she wasn’t going to budge. “Our research and our numbers are sound. If you and your brothers want to help, then get on board and step in and pull a little of the weight we lost with your father’s passing—” her voice broke the smallest hint but she recovered quickly, “—the numbers will pan out and your land won’t be at risk. If you waste time and energy questioning everything we’ve already researched and hashed out, you’ll only ensure our failure.”
Ben’s own anger boiled hotter. “We’re talking about Thomas Noble, the man who’s been trying to take my family’s small piece of the mountain away from us for three decades. He wants the entire county, but he’s got a hard-on for our land, in particular, and he’ll stop at nothing to get it. He’ll even repossess my mother’s homestead no matter if it’s all she has left.”
The barest flicker of hesitation flashed in Maggie’s eyes. Had they really been this blind?
Ben raked a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “God, why did the three of you have to put the land up for collateral?”
Maggie’s nostrils flared as she gripped the table, her knuckles turning white.
Oh shit. It was the wrong thing to say. He realized that as soon as the words left his mouth, but he’d always been that way. Saying exactly what he thought, when he thought it. He wasn’t good with people. They had emotions and feelings, too many variables for Ben to assess at one time. He understood computers, coding, numbers. They didn’t talk back.
Maggie stood. “Go screw yourself, Ben Sumner.”
“Screw me?” Ben laughed but it was bitter as he realized she and his mom were likely going to dig in and d
ouble down on this bet the three of them had made. “Screw me? My family is the one who’ll be screwed if this thing goes south. And as far as I can tell, you won’t lose a thing.” Ben cocked a brow, begging her to respond.
He and Maggie were hardly being discreet at this point. Thankfully, the room was only filled with a few employees right now. Most of the guests were already out on the slopes.
Maggie bent low over the table, her blouse hanging open, revealing a light pink lace bra. A bra that should have been the very last thing Ben noticed or thought about in that moment. Her flowery scent accosted his senses, but he stayed focused on his anger and ignored his body’s unwelcome response, for the most part.
Maggie’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears but she kept them at bay as she spoke. “I already lost everything when your father died, and so did your mother. Rest assured, I won’t let Valerie lose this place, too. I’ll do anything it takes to make this plan work, whether you and your brothers decide to help or not.”
She stood to her full stature. He doubted Maggie was even five-two, but she stared down at him as if she were ten feet tall.
“You’re either on board with our expansion or you’re not,” she said through clenched teeth. “Your choice, Ben. But either way, I won’t have you filling your mother’s head with negative thoughts. You haven’t been here in a long time and you underestimate what we can do.”
Ben stiffened, completely shocked by Maggie’s confrontational behavior, and a little impressed by her take-charge attitude, if he were being honest. Not to mention turned on, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.
He and his brothers didn’t have a choice but to get on board and work at the lodge. Unless he could get through to his mother and Maggie—which wasn’t looking likely—they’d all have to work their asses off to make this dream of theirs happen.
Maggie’s lips curled slightly in victory, obviously realizing Ben had succumbed to her demands. “Now, if we’re done here,” she smoothed her shirt, “I need you up on the second floor.”
Ben stood. “Why are we moving?”
“You’re moving. I’m not.”
Suddenly the hackles on Ben’s necks rose in warning. “Why am I moving?”
Maggie smiled, slow and wicked, like a cat who’d just cornered the mouse. “You work for me, Ben, remember?” she said.
Oh shit. He had to get control before she ran right over him.
Ben straightened and took a step closer. “I work for you on the management side of this business,” he bit out.
Her smile widened. “We have a very hands-on management style at The Lodge at Canyon Creek.”
Ben didn’t like the laughter in her voice. “What does that mean?”
She smirked, her green eyes dancing with amusement.
Ben stood, towering over her. “Fine. Lead the way.” He waved a hand toward the doors leading to the lobby of the lodge.
“Follow me.” She turned and strode out of the café.
Ben glanced down at her sashaying ass. Yeah, he’d follow her all right.
“Ben!” Maggie snapped.
His gaze moved higher as her eyes flared with disapproval. Damn, he’d probably never get tired of seeing those eyes light up.
She pointed to the lobby, turned her back and marched on.
Taming his hard-on was becoming increasingly hopeless, but Ben drew in a deep breath and gave it a shot as he followed.
“Oh, Ben,” someone called behind him with a sickeningly sweet voice.
Ben turned.
Aunt Sally stood behind the counter of the café, waggling her long fingers with one hand. Something in his aunt’s mischievous expression assured him he would definitely not be having fun.
Aunt Sally cupped her mouth and spoke in a stage whisper. “She feeds on the weak, so you might want to buck up there, sailor.”
Ben waved Sally off and shook his head before turning to trail Maggie through the lobby. He stopped short when he saw her standing in front of a door marked “Employees Only.”
She pulled a plunger out from behind her back and shoved it toward him. “Room 214 is having some plumbing issues. Be a dear and deal with it.”
“But we need to talk, Maggie. The numbers—”
“We’re finished talking, Ben,” she said in an eerily quiet tone. She pushed the plunger harder into his chest. “You’ll need this. Unless you enjoy using your hands.”
Ben clutched the handle as Maggie released it, leaving him alone with a plunger and a sinking feeling in pit of his stomach.
Suddenly the expression oh, shit held a whole different meaning.
Chapter Eight
“Here are your room keys, Mr. and Mrs. Bogden,” Maggie said, pushing the plastic access cards across the wooden counter. “Your room is on the second floor.” She pointed to the two-story staircase to her right. “Take a left at the top of the stairs and your room will be halfway down on your right. You all have a beautiful view of the mountain and the creek.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Bogden said. “We’ve heard such wonderful things about the lodge.”
“I’m so glad.” Maggie beamed. The Lodge at Canyon Creek was as much her baby as it was Valerie’s. Valerie and John had given her a home when they’d brought her into their dream. “If you’re planning to ski on Canyon Creek Mountain, we have a shuttle that takes you to the resort side of the mountain. It runs every thirty minutes, weather permitting, from six a.m. to ten p.m.”
“I noticed your website talked about dog sledding,” Mr. Bogden said.
“Yes, O’Halloran’s Snow Dog Tours is our recommended vendor.”
“Oh, that’s so funny.” Mrs. Bogden shook with laughter.
Maggie cocked her head, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“O’Halloran,” Mrs. Bogden repeated.
Maggie shook her head.
“He runs a dog sled company and his name is O-Holler-Ran,” she annunciated each syllable, “like he’s hollering at the dogs to run.” She covered her mouth and giggled.
“Forgive her,” Mr. Bogden wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Her sense of humor is unique.”
Maggie laughed out loud. “Actually, that’s pretty funny. I’d never thought of that before, but you’re right. Be sure to tell Grady if you book a tour. He’s the owner and one of the operators.”
Mrs. Bogden dropped her hand and smiled.
“If you book with our shuttle desk,” Maggie motioned toward the small counter underneath the staircase, “Trevor will be happy to help reserve your tour and arrange transportation.”
Maggie didn’t mention that she was about to add to Trevor’s workload. Without John working anymore, there were a few people she’d be counting on to pick up the load.
“I’m so excited to be in Colorado,” she practically squealed.
Maggie laughed. Mrs. Bogden’s excitement was infectious. This was one of the reasons she loved working at the lodge.
“I’d love to meet the owner while we’re here, to say thank you for being so sweet when we booked our room,” Mrs. Bogden said. “She must have chatted with me for half an hour.”
“You’ll see her out and about at some point during your stay I’m sure. Just look for the tall, beautiful woman with silvery blonde hair. You’ll probably hear her before you see her.” Maggie kept to herself the fact that Valerie’s husband of thirty-four years had just passed away.
Of course, many of their guests had been coming here for years. If they hadn’t heard the news yet, they would soon. Maggie would be sitting down and emailing several of them to let them know what had happened. She didn’t want them to be surprised when they came for their annual visits.
She refocused on the couple in front of her. “The elevator is just down the hallway to the right of the fireplace if you need it, and I’ll have your bag brought up right away.” She pointed toward the archway.
“Thank you…” Mrs. Bogden paused, glancing at Maggie’s name tag.
“I’m Maggie
,” she answered the woman’s silent question. “Maggie Lawrence, the manager.” Maggie reveled in her title. Even though her ultimate goal was to own a small hotel of her own someday, for now, she was happy here at the lodge.
Since she’d barely skated through high school and never finished college, Maggie had worked her way up the ranks in the industry through different hotel and restaurant jobs. She’d worked practically every position in the industry. Ben probably thought she was too dumb to run a hotel of this size.
The only thing she’d been known for in high school was a pretty face. But with John and Valerie’s encouragement, Maggie had thrived, finding her passion in the hospitality industry. She’d even enrolled in a few online classes in hotel management.
Despite what Ben thought, Maggie and the Sumners were ready for the growth they knew the expansion would bring. Going from a medium-sized bed and breakfast to the much larger lodge meant more revenue and more work. She’d never admit it to Ben, but she had to acknowledge the job of managing the lodge was harder now that John was gone—for a multitude of reasons. She missed his energy, his creativity, his encouragement. Tears stung Maggie’s eyes. She could use the help but she wouldn’t bother Valerie. Not yet. Her friend needed rest, and time to mourn.
“Well, thank you, Maggie.” Mrs. Bogden smiled.
“My pleasure. Enjoy your stay.”
Mr. Bogden clutched their paperwork and keys. “We will.” He nodded.
Once they were out of sight, Maggie sagged against the counter, glancing at the clock on the computer. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon but it already felt like midnight. She’d been up since four.
The busier Maggie stayed, the less time she had to focus on John’s passing, and the doubts Ben Sumner had planted in her mind. Doubts never helped anyone.
“Maggie,” Denise called out.
Maggie glanced to her side and saw Denise Johnson, the head of their housekeeping department marching her way. With almost thirty guest rooms, and an additional three suites, their cleaning staff had grown exponentially in the last two months since they’d begun opening the new lodge rooms. Thankfully, Denise had worked in a large hotel chain and was able to keep up with the demands. She was also ex-Army, which meant she ran a tight ship with her staff.