1
Deadwood, South Dakota
With her laptop perched on her knees and ear buds in her ears, Evelyn Cotton hit refresh, hoping this time the man she was scheduled to chat with would be in the online meeting room. Thanks to technology, it was her first face-to-face meeting with a potential investor in the family business she was trying to save.
Except he wasn’t showing up and she couldn’t sit here staring at the screen forever. She had to get over to the casino for her evening shift. This time of year, wild winter storms or not, dealing poker at the Silver Aces kept this family in the black.
Barely.
The investor, Tate Cordell, had contacted Cottonwood Adventures a few weeks ago. They’d hit it off over the phone and he’d requested a personal tour to get a feel for the area and a better idea of her plans to expand and offer winter activities. She was happy to oblige, but he’d cancelled last week’s visit at the last moment, after she’d traded away her shift. With the sudden weather system jacking up flights and travel plans, they’d opted for an online meeting.
“Come on, Tate.”
“He called?” her father, Dale, half-shouted from his beloved recliner. He’d spent the day in his woodshop, restoring a set of kitchen chairs for a friend.
“No.” She shook her head. “Must be trouble with the connection.”
“Or he lost interest.”
Gee thanks. Evelyn suppressed a scathing glare. It was bad enough sitting here as if she’d been stood up by a date. “He’ll call.” She reached for her boots and pulled them on. When hedidshow—and hewould—she wanted to make the most of every remaining minute.
“Then what’s with the boots?”
She forcibly reminded herself that her dad loved her, even when he didn’t show it in normal ways or even in ways she might prefer. Plus, big storms like the one closing in on them usually amped up his depression issues. “There’s no sense wrecking my good shoes crossing the parking lot,” she replied. If the meeting with Tate went well, this might be her last winter at the casino. Her heart actually fluttered at the happy thought.
For several seasons now, her father had posed significant resistance to her many suggestions and ideas that would shift Cottonwood from merely scraping by as an average three-season tour operation to a thriving year-round profitable endeavor. Whether or not he believed she could do it, he seemed determined to prevent her from trying. None of her spreadsheets or marketing plans had changed his mind. All she needed to put them on the map was a modest financial investment for new gear, a storage building, a website overhaul and a couple of new hires.Allsounded like a lot, but she knew how to prioritize and make every penny stretch.
Her father, despite the evidence in the roof over his head and food on the table, wasn’t convinced of her ability. Every timeshe asked, Dale refused to even consider a business loan, leaving Evelyn to get creative.
“I wish you’d stay home.” He pointed at the television, where another aspiring journalist was bundled up against the gusting wind and blowing snow. “It’s going to get worse in a hurry.”
“It’s a wonder the mic doesn’t freeze over,” she muttered. Her laptop chimed and she scrambled back in front of the camera, only to see that the meeting had timed out without starting. The chime was an email alert from the casino. Small comfort to know the internet connection was fine on her end. “Damn.”
Her father snorted, either agreeing with her assessment or disapproving of her vocabulary. It didn’t matter. She and Dale hadn’t seen eye to eye on much of anything since her mother, Tess, died during Evelyn’s senior year of college.
“Only goes to show you shouldn’t be out in this mess,” he said.
“I wish it was as easy as calling in,” she said. “My boss just asked me to confirm I can make tonight’s shift and she’s hoping I’ll stick around to work through the storm.”
“You told me they were evacuating the resorts.”
“Dad.” Evelyn clung to her last scrap of patience as she turned off her laptop and stowed it away. Tate would reschedule. It helped to remember that he wasn’t the only backup plan she had working. “They were discussing the option. If people can’t get out of town, they’ll need entertainment.” She’d packed an overnight bag and stowed it in her car, just in case the roads were impassable and she had to stay over.
“You’re risking your neck just so they won’t miss a dollar,” he grumbled when she crossed the room to tell him goodbye.
She could launch into a lecture about the economic boost the casinos brought to Deadwood with events and tourism every single month. The Silver Aces even recommended CottonwoodAdventures to guests when the company was open. She could mention how the casinos reinvested a generous chunk of their profits back to the community year after year. She could, but she’d be wasting her breath.
“There’s meatloaf in the fridge when you’re ready.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and kissed her dad’s graying hair before shrugging into her coat. Grabbing her overnight bag, she escaped her well-meaning father and headed for her car.
Between the wind and the temperature drop, the air had more bite as she stepped outside. She leaned into the wind, averting her face and wishing she’d parked in the garage. Thankfully, her compact SUV started right up with the same dependability it had shown for years. She turned on her radio for some upbeat music to perk up for her shift. Tate being a no show was a bummer, but dwelling on that disappointment would negatively impact her tips. Unfortunately, her favorite station was in full storm-mode.
“People.” Winter Storm Holly was becoming a local obsession. She navigated the winding driveway from her lifelong home, past the turn off for the Cottonwood Adventures office and to the main road. “It’s not our first brush with snow.” She laughed at herself, eyeing the remains of the most recent snowfall lining the shoulders on either side of the road and covering the wilderness in a blanket of white.
Traffic was lighter than she expected and, once she was out of the driveway, the roads were mostly clear. Though she’d lived here all her life, it was hard even for her to imagine six feet of snow at the minimum. Maybe people were being smart and heeding the warnings to prepare for the worst. While that was the smart and safe way to go, it could cost her on a night when she needed the tips.
She was almost to the casino before she found a station still playing pop remakes of Christmas classics. It was enough to puta smile on her face as she finished the drive and circled for the closest parking space she could find.
As she gathered her purse and the bag with her good shoes, her cell phone rang. “Come on, Dad,” she groaned. But she brightened when the screen showed Tate Cordell’s number. Sucking in a quick breath, she pulled off her glove and swiped the screen to answer. “Cottonwood Adventures, Evelyn speaking.”
