Green meadows blanketed the valley bordered by rolling, tree-covered hills. The mountains in the distance stood tall and blue. There was snow on their peaks, the white caps shining under the brilliant morning sky.
It was captivating and bold. Guests from all over the world came to stay here because the landscape was wholly enchanting. There was a reason why I hadn’t taken a vacation in years. When you lived in paradise, why leave?
This trip of mine wasn’t out of wanderlust. It was a necessary escape. The mental image of Cash canoodling with Dany, the surprise girlfriend, at Friday night’s family dinner was enough to make me scream.
Carol escorted me out of my office, flipping off the light as we passed the threshold. She probably felt my itching desire to go back in and check my planner just one more time, so she kept her arm looped with mine, leading—dragging—me down the long hallway. Her boots echoed on the floor’s wooden planks as we passed the row of empty offices.
This wing of the lodge was mostly offices, storage and two conference rooms for the occasional corporation who sent their executives away for a working retreat. Beneath us was the dining room and five-star kitchen. The guest rooms were on the other end of the lodge and we also had chalets and extravagant tents.
We sold Montana luxury. Our guests came here for a traditional Western experience—at least, that was the marketing pitch. Nothing about the Greer resort was traditional. We catered to the uber rich, the celebrities and urban wealthy who wanted to escape reality for a week to go hiking, horseback riding and glamping in Montana.
Our reputation and quality of experience meant we could charge four thousand dollars per night for a lavish, rustic, three-bedroom chalet.
I glanced at Annabeth’s office as we passed, my heart sinking to see it dark and empty. I was late to meet Gemma but I would have felt better had I touched base with at least one employee before leaving.
Besides the kitchen staff who’d been here since six, most of my employees wouldn’t arrive until eight thirty. JR’s office was across from mine, and while technically retired, he liked to come in around eleven each day, giving him plenty of time for one last cup of coffee before raiding the kitchen for lunch.
“I went through the menu for the next two weeks, but when JR comes in today, will you ask him to check in regularly? Chef Wong will go off menu if someone isn’t keeping tabs.”
The man was a brilliant chef who we’d hired from New York, but he forgot at times that we weren’t in Manhattan and our guests weren’t here to try gourmet fusion.
“Yes, we’ll make sure he stays on menu,” Carol said as we reached the top of the wide, sweeping staircase that dropped to the lobby.
“And will you remind Annabeth that we have a guest in a wheelchair coming Thursday? It’s a little boy with cerebral palsy. They’re staying in the Eagle Ridge Chalet and I’d like to have her escort them personally to make sure the arrangement will work.”
“Anything else?” Carol side-eyed me.
“Um . . .” Yes. About a million things. “You know what? I’ll just email Annabeth from the road.”
“Katherine, will you relax.”
“I’m relaxed.” I forced a too-wide smile as we reached the lobby. The smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs and pancakes filled the air. A couple crossed the foyer, headed for the dining room. “Good morning.”
They both smiled and returned my greeting before disappearing to get breakfast.
“Shoot.” I slipped my arm free of Carol’s and rushed to the front desk, where the receptionist’s stool was empty. “I forgot to tell Chef Wong about a party coming next week. They requested a special prime rib dinner, which shouldn’t be a problem, but I don’t want him to forget.”
“Which reservation?” Carol asked, appearing at my side.
“Boyd. They’ll be in the Grizzly Chalet.”
“Okay.” She waved me off and grabbed a pen to scribble on a sticky note. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I can just buzz into the kitchen—”
“Katherine Gates.” She pinned me with a stare normally reserved for her grandsons, son or husband. “I will see you in two weeks.”
“Fine,” I muttered. “I’m going. I’ll call and check—”
“You will do no such thing.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t call.”
“But—”
“Kat, take this vacation. It’s for your own good.”
I fought a cringe, despising those words.
Carol’s voice gentled and the pleading in her eyes made me hold my breath. “Let’s not pretend I don’t know the reason why you decided to take this whirlwind trip. Cash showed up at family dinner with a woman and . . . I get it. I think it’s a brilliant idea for you to get away.”
I had too much stubborn pride to confess that I was in love with my best friend. But I’d been a fool to think Carol hadn’t noticed my feelings for her grandson. I’d loved Cash for years. Did all of the Greers know? Did they share pitiful glances behind my back?
Our poor Kat, stuck in the friend zone for life.
I swallowed a groan.
“Go.” She put her hand on my arm. “When I told you to take some time, I meant it. You need to get away from here and decide if this is really the life you want.”
“What are you saying?” Why wouldn’t I want this life?
“We love you. You are a part of our family, whether you live and work here or not. But you need to get away from here. Breathe. Think. Let him go.”
Ouch. Hadn’t I thought the exact same thing myself? So why did it hurt so much to hear from someone else?
“I don’t want you spending your life waiting,” she said.
The lump in my throat made it impossible to speak, so I nodded and stretched a tight smile across my face.
“Go.” She kissed my cheek. “Think it over. I would hate to lose you, but I would hate for you to stay here and be unhappy even more.”
I walked away from the desk, my head spinning. Why did it feel like I’d just been kicked out? Why did it feel like I’d just been given an ultimatum?
Get over Cash or go somewhere he’s not.
Carol had good intentions and I believed that she was looking out for me. She didn’t want me to suffer here while he moved on with his life. I didn’t want that for myself.
But it was a stark reminder of the truth. I wasn’t a Greer. I was the guest in the family photo.
Cash was the Greer, and she wasn’t losing her grandson.
My truck was waiting outside the lodge, parked in front of a hitching post we used for space markers. I climbed inside and sucked in a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry.
Part of me wanted to shove my head in the dirt and pretend like this wasn’t an issue. After all, I’d been practicing that move for years. I could go about my work, enjoy my simple life and drown the feelings I’d been harboring for a decade in work and denial.
But that wasn’t working out so well for me, was it? I’d arrived at a crossroads and maybe after eight hundred and thirty-one miles, I’d know which path to take.
I sucked in another deep breath, then started the truck and reversed out of my space. The gravel road that wound from the lodge to the highway was damp from last night’s rain shower, and the grass along the drive glistened. My tires didn’t kick up the normal cloud of dust as I drove, giving me a clear view of the imposing lodge through the rearview mirror.