Marcus started to respond, but Victoria cut him off with a wave of her hand. “You know what, Marcus? She’s right.”
“She is?” Marcus looked confused. As did everyone else.
Victoria’s expression shifted to something more calculated, more dangerous. “Curated authenticity doesn’t exist. But it should.” Victoria tapped her manicured nails against the table, the rhythmic click-click-click like the timer on a bomb. “See, Marcus? I told you we shouldn’t fire her just yet.”
Parker and I exchanged a nervous look. I hadn’t realized how precarious my situation really was. I’d been too distracted by a certain grumpy mountain man to pay attention to what I was supposed to be paying attention to — my job.
“Samantha is right. Authenticityistoo unpredictable,” said Victoria. “We can’t risk the LuxeLife reputation on whatever Mother Nature decides to throw at our exquisitely curated guest experiences.”
At that moment, an artificial room deodorizer pumped the chemical equivalent of pine throughout the room. After inhaling real pine forest the past few days, the fake smell made me want to throw up.
“So, what do we do?” asked Marcus. “Just give up?”
“I never give up,” said Victoria. “I adapt.”
“Adapt how?” asked Maya.
“We pivot to Samantha’s idea. Effective immediately.”
“My idea?” I asked. “Which was what, exactly?”
Victoria waved me off with her manicured hand. “Don’t be shy, Samantha. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You know the folly of trying to tame the wilderness better than anybody.”
She had a point.
“Okay, people, let’s ideate on Samantha’s curated authenticity concept.” Victoria’s voice took on the enthusiastic edge of someone who’d just discovered a new tax loophole. “This is transformative thinking, Samantha. Well done. Paradigm-shifting.”
“What’s a paradigm?” I whispered to Parker.
“We’ll do a mind-mapping exercise,” Victoria commanded. “Marcus. Curated authenticity. Go.” She gestured at him like a conductor cueing an orchestra section playing the “March of Doom.”
Marcus seemed to know what a paradigm was because hedidn’t miss a beat. “Instead of whitewater rafting, we build a lazy river behind the infinity pool.”
My growing sense of fear at what I’d accidentally unleashed started to build. The rushing river that had tossed me like a rag doll was terrifying, yes, but also exhilarating and real. Was Marcus actually proposing that a glorified bathtub with strategically placed bubble jets would replace it?
“Excellent, Marcus.” Victoria tapped her chin with a pointed nail. “We’ll put up a barbed wire fence to keep all the real wild animals off the property and put in some more of those stuffed dead ones for people to take selfies with. We can dress them up in LuxeLife branded hats and scarves too.”
My growing fear turned to growing horror.
“Maya, you go now.” Victoria leveled Maya with a pointed stare.
“Well, I guess ... for people who don’t want to do horseback riding, we could do e-bike tours? Still outdoors, but more ... controlled?”
“I love the electrification of the outdoor experience,” Victoria said. “We’ll tear down some trees and put in paved bike paths everywhere. Well done, Maya. Well done.” She pointed at Parker next. “You. Asian man-child. What do you have for me? Curated authenticity. Go.”
“You could put in a virtual reality arcade,” said Parker. “They have these hyper-realistic fishing simulation games, hook sensitivity, weather variations, everything.”
“We’ll have to workshop that one.” Finally, Victoria turned to me. “Samantha, your turn. Dazzle me with your curated authenticity vision.”
With each suggestion, the real Colorado I’d experienced with Noah seemed to dissolve like froth bubbles in a piping hot latte. The mountains, the storms, the wildlife, all replaced with sanitized copies that wouldn’t dare inconvenience apaying guest with something as unpredictable as actual nature.
“Well, Samantha?”
Across the table, Marcus shook his head, giving Victoria one of those “I told you so” looks. I could see him drafting the contract termination papers in his head.
I never intended to abandon the idea of Colorado authenticity. But with everyone staring at me, waiting, I felt as exposed as I had standing naked in that cabin, wrapped in nothing but a scratchy wool blanket. If this was the direction Victoria was determined to go, maybe I could at least preserve some tiny bit of the original vision.
“Samantha?”
