“And expensive.”
“Quality costs,” he says. “But it also returns. You want this town to thrive?”
“Yes,” I say instantly.
“So do I,” he replies. “We’re just choosing different paths to get there.”
For a second, we stand there, chest to chest in the space between stubbornness and something else entirely. The wind rattles the old windows. A loose board creaks. Somewhere under all of that, I can almost hear the echo of holiday music, the murmur of long-ago conversations, the clink of glasses. I absolutely love this place. I hate that he sees it too.
Holden interrupts again, mercifully. “We’ll need to discuss load-bearing walls and support beams if you plan to open up adjacent spaces, Graham.”
“Let’s start in the east wing,” Graham says, tearing his gaze from mine. “I want to show you how I see the suites reconfigured.”
As we move toward the hallway, his hand brushes the small of my back to guide me around a fallen beam. The gesture is nothing, yet it’s everything. My heart stumbles, and for one dangerous second, I let myself imagine what this lodge would look like filled with people again with the fire roaring, music playing, lights glittering.
And I hate the way my traitorous mind conjures up ideas. Because in that imagined picture, he’s standing right beside me.
Chapter 6
Graham
I’ve walked these halls three times before today. First, with my acquisitions team. Second, with a structural consultant. Third, with Holden and his notes. Each time, I saw the same thing: risk and opportunity. A decaying asset with good bones. A challenge worth the investment. A chance to prove again that I can take what other people abandoned and turn it into something remarkable.
Today, I see something else. Today, I see it with her. Willow’s presence changes everything.
She moves through the lodge like someone walking through a half-remembered dream. Each room seems to pull a different memory from her – tiny flinches of emotion she clearly doesn’t want me to notice. I notice anyway.
In the great room, when she talked about the tree, something in my heart actually twisted. I didn’t know memories could sound like that. I sensed ache wrapped in warm, nostalgia.
We’re in the east wing now, picking our way through a corridor of faded wallpaper and warped floorboards. Holden drones about load distribution and reinforcement costs, while Atlanta snaps photos and sketches, eyes wide.
“I’ve heard the suites on this side were the most popular,” Atlanta says. “Best light, best views. If we can restore the original window lines …”
“We can,” I say. “We’re not chasing a modern glass box. We’re honoring what worked and building around it.”
Willow laughs softly. “That almost sounds like compromise.”
“It’s called design,” I correct. “You should see some of my other projects.”
“I’d rather see what you plan to do with this one.”
Of course she would. I stop at the threshold of a corner suite and gesture for her to go in first. The room is a mess with peeling paint, exposed insulation from a broken section of wall, and an old mattress half-collapsed in the corner. But the view steals even my breath. The mountains stretch out beyond the cracked glass, endless and snow-capped, the sky a hard, bright blue.
Willow steps closer to the window, fingers hovering near the pane but not touching. Her reflection stares back at us faintly, her expression caught somewhere between grief and awe.
“I stayed in this room once,” she says quietly. “We couldn’t afford it most years, but my grandparents saved up for our last Christmas here. I remember waking up and thinking this was what magic looked like.”
I lean against the doorframe, watching her instead of the view.
“It still can,” I say.
She glances back, skeptical. “With a champagne bar and luxury shopping downstairs?”
“With investment,” I counter. “Without it, this place rots until the roof caves in. Then someone less interested in preservation comes along and flattens it.”
She flinches. Tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “So those are my choices? Your version or total destruction?”
“No.” I push off the frame, stepping into the room. “Your choice is whether you stand on the sidelines and watch someone else dictate what happens here … or you help shape it.”
