“Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised. Victoria was personally involved in every detail of the renovations. She’s very hands-on. And specific. And insistent.” Maya leaned in slightly. “Pretty sure she’s never heard the word no.”
“Renovations?” I asked, cutting into my eggs to capture yolk-porn for my followers. “Sorry, had to get that money shot.” I continued taking video as the yolk spilled over the crabmeat in a perfect golden cascade. “This isn’t how the lodge originally looked?”
“Oh God, no.” Maya shook her head. “You wouldn’t recognize this place from a year ago. It used to be geared toward hunting and fishing. Think mounted trophy bass and plaid everything.” Maya waved her hand to encompass the room. “The bones of the old lodge are still here, but LuxeLife completely reimagined it. We’re sitting in what used to be the tackle shop.”
I glanced around, trying to imagine fishing rods and bait boxes where now there were white tablecloths and silver service. “That’s quite a transformation.”
“Night and day,” Maya agreed. “The renovation costs are …” She let out a low whistle. “That’s why there’s been such a push on the marketing front. Victoria needs to recoup the investment. Heard some big shareholders are making some noise.”
Maya took a sip of coffee while I popped a raspberry into my mouth. It may have been the best thing I’d ever eaten.
“How’s your suite? Everything to your liking?”
“Like it? I’m considering moving in permanently.” I nibbled a blackberry. “I must have taken fifty pictures just from my window.”
“I’m glad,” said Maya. “And I want to apologize again for yesterday’s transportation … mix-up.”
I held up my hand. “You can make it up to me by never mentioning it again. In fact, let’s make a pact never to mention the name Noah Barrett ever again.”
Just saying his name sent an unwelcome flash of last night’s dream coursing through me, which I promptly squashed with another raspberry.
“Deal. No more mention of ... that person.” Maya pulled out an iPad from a sleek leather portfolio. “Speaking of making it up to you, wait until you see what I’ve got planned for today.”
She flipped the screen around to show me a meticulously crafted itinerary that made my influencer heart sing. “Full property tour first, the spa, fitness center, indoor and outdoor pools. We’ve scheduled treatments for you this afternoon, a signature massage, facial, the works. For lunch, our executive chef from our farm to table restaurant will be curating a special tasting menu. Then this evening, we have a private cocktail mixing class with our executive mixologist, followed by a sunset stroll to our private overlook where we’ll have champagne and charcuterie set up.”
My eyes widened with each new thing. This was influencernirvana, exclusive experiences, photogenic settings, and luxury treatments, all carefully packaged for maximum social media impact. Everything I’d been hoping for from this trip and more.
And the best part? No cantankerous mountain men with stupidly blue eyes and wolf-dogs.
I began planning my captions and hashtags. After yesterday’s travel fiasco, it felt good to be back in my element. This was what I did best. Finding the perfect angles, the most flattering light, turning ordinary moments into something extraordinary.
“So, are you ready to get started?” Maya looked at me expectantly.
I tucked my phone into my pocket and drained the last of my coffee. “Lead the way.”
“Our signature scent is a blend of sage and mountain lavender,” Maya explained as we stepped through the double glass doors of the spa entrance.
I inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance wrap around me like a blanket. It was mountain wilderness distilled into perfume form, minus the sweat smell from hiking and terror.
“It’s intoxicating,” I said, holding my phone up to capture the delicate tendrils of steam rising from hot stones in a copper bowl. The vapor caught the morning light streaming through the skylights, creating ethereal wisps that danced in the air.
“Each amenity is designed to bring the outside in,” Maya continued, offering me a cucumber-infused water from a dispenser. “We want guests to feel connected to the mountain environment, but cocooned in luxury.”
“Cocooned in luxury is good.” Vaulted ceilings soared overhead. A wall of water trickled over slate, creating a gentlesoundtrack. “My followers are going to lose their minds over this.” I leaned in close, my camera capturing everything.
“Just wait,” Maya said with a knowing smile. “Follow me.”
She guided me down a corridor as the floor transitioned from stone to cedar. “This is our flagship treatment space.”
My jaw dropped as we entered one of the circular rooms. The glass ceiling offered an unobstructed view of the mountain sky. Aspens surrounded the perimeter, their white trunks and golden leaves creating a natural privacy screen.
“During the winter, guests can watch the snow fall while getting a hot stone massage,” said Maya.
I crouched down to capture the perfect angle. A beam of light had pierced through the aspen leaves at just the right moment, illuminating the aromatherapy diffuser and creating a mystical haze that filled the room.
“The massage tables are heated with volcanic rock from Iceland,” Maya continued. “And these sheets are made from organic bamboo.”
“This is all incredible.” I ran my hand across the polished wooden surface of the nearest table.
