Why wasn’t I more happy about it?
In the dining room, the tin box sat on the table beside a lamp, its metal sides reflecting soft light. I brushed a thumb over the daisy, the petals fragile under my touch. My parents had left their beginning here, hidden under a floorboard like a secret. Maybe love always left something behind, even when people didn’t mean to.
My cellphone rang just as I replaced the lid. The sound startled me. It was late, the kind of hour when calls rarely brought good news. I pulled the phone out of my back pocket to see Dex’s name glowing on the screen. I hesitated a moment before answering.
“Hello?”
His voice was low, roughened by distance and cold air. “We are staying overnight. The roads iced up faster than expected. Carly offered rooms at the lodge.”
“Of course she did." The words came out sharper than I meant. I forced a lighter tone. “That’s probably for the best.”
“I wanted you to know so you wouldn’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
Silence followed, heavy and full of things unsaid. I could almost hear the quiet behind him, the muted luxury of the lodge, maybe Carly’s voice somewhere in the background.
“All right,” he said finally. “We will drive back in the morning. Sleep well, Lucy.”
“You too,” I said, but he had already hung up.
I set the phone down and pressed my palms to the table until the wood grain imprinted against my skin. The only sound was the wind pressing against the windows. He wasn't mine to miss, and yet my chest ached like something had been borrowed and might not be returned.
Chapter Fourteen: Glass and Frost
Dex.
Morning came too quietly. The room where I had stayed the night was all sharp corners and polished surfaces, every line deliberate to accentuate the feeling of class and money. I sat up and stared through the glass wall at the valley below, white snow broken only by dark trees and the distant curl of smoke from the chalet restaurant. It was beautiful in the kind of way that photographs well, but feels cold to live in.
The bed was too firm and the air was so filtered I couldn’t smell anything. Even the sunlight seemed staged, cutting through the double-glazed windows in perfect symmetry. I missed the uneven light that crept through the old windows at the SnowDrop Inn, the smell of coffee that fought with varnish and cinnamon, the sound of Helen’s voice filling every room before the day had even begun. Here, impressive and sterile silence reigned.
As I got ready for the day, I saw a text from Braxton informing me that he had already gone downstairs. He also let me know that Carly wanted to meet with me in the conference room at nine. The text was delivered in his usual cheerful voice, though I could practically hear the sigh behind it when it came to his sister.
Carly and Braxton had a complicated relationship. I would never call Carly loving, more like interfering with the best of intentions from her point of view only since Carly wasn’t able to entertain something opposite to what she believed. As for Braxton, he loved his sister, even if he didn’t always like heractions, and he was far too patient with her. He was still too patient with most people, I personally believed.
I showered, dressed, and stared at my reflection longer than I meant to. The man in the mirror looked composed, professional, and entirely disconnected. No wonder Lucy had joked to her sisters that I was a robot. I felt like one in the moment, forcing myself to do something I didn’t want to really do. I caught myself wondering if she had eaten breakfast yet and what project the family had taken on next at the inn since they should be done with the dining room by now. I forced the thoughts away and left the suite to meet with Carly.
The conference room was all glass and chrome. A fireplace flickered purely for effect, and the walls were covered in renderings of Carly’s proposed expansion. She stood at the head of the table when I arrived, poised and immaculate in winter white. The kind of beauty that draws attention by design.
“Dex,” she said warmly, holding out her hand. “Thank you for coming. I know this was short notice.”
I politely shook her hand for only as long as necessary. I gestured to the concept sketches on the walls. “It looks ambitious.”
She smiled, the kind of smile that suggested both compliment and conquest. “Ambition is how we survive in this business. Everyone wants a mountain experience, but I want the Hale Lodge to redefine it.”
I moved closer to the renderings. The plans were striking. Minimalist lines, reflective glass, with heated stone corridors. It was technically impressive and emotionally empty. “You’re doubling the square footage.”
“Yes. We will add private suites, a spa, an event hall, and a rooftop restaurant. Guests crave luxury. They don't want a rustic atmosphere anymore, they want perfection. We are adapting to the needs of our luxury guests,” Carly informed me.
Perfection. The word sat uncomfortably on my tongue. “And you want my firm to take it on?”
“Not your firm,” she said smoothly, her gaze lingered for a moment too long. “You. Personally. I want your eye, your precision, your reputation. You have always had a gift for elevating spaces.”
I looked back at the plans. “It is an enormous project. Two years at least.”
“Two and a half years minimum since we will need to import our workforce. The local community just can’t manage what we want. The project will require you to live on site. We need leadership here, not someone managing remotely. You understand that,” Carly responded as she came to stand uncomfortably close beside me.
“I do understand,” I said quietly. It was what I used to dream about. Creative control, financial security, and a project that would make my career. Yet the thought of living here made my chest tighten. I imagined months of this perfect stillness, every surface gleaming, every conversation measured.
